Summertime Killer [Vassil, Wild]

[Emma]

Panic crawled up my throat as I turned the next corner of the Fane.

Ília Fëon was a marvellously peaceful place, as I’d witnessed first-hand on my several visits here over the past two decades. Deceptively empty with its beautiful gardens, quiet brooks and elegant buildings, I was infused with a feeling of tranquility the moment I stepped within the city limits. The elves here had been called to battle many times, but had already overcome the terrors of war through nothing else but mental contemplation. Alone among the untouched trees and scenic vistas of the count’s estate, it was a welcome reprieve from the strains of ruling the melting pot of Ceunon and dealing with Dellanir and the lackeys of the Hive. At least, it usually was.

I’d left Ceunon’s reins to Veela while I was away, much to the panic of my stewards, and gone to visit the count of Ília Fëon over the small matter of a trade embargo between our two cities. I was not due to visit him for some hours yet, so I had gone for a stroll down the silent paths before entering the Fane of Nyx and browsing the remarkable collection of books in its library. I had, as always, chosen to be alone on these brief recesses, assuming nothing would happen on such holy grounds. What I hadn’t been expecting, however, was the lone knife that had very nearly been slipped into my spine.

I didn’t know what had possessed me to turn around in the nick of time. Perhaps it was my extensive training that had me doing the exact same thing back in Saxony. Perhaps the deity Nyx truly was real and she’d offered her protection. Either way, I’d narrowly escaped the dagger wielded by a masked person, instinctually and quite indecently slammed them in the abdomen to knock them off balance, and fled out of the library and down the nearest corridor. By the time I managed to locate one of the sentinels and send him to arrest the drajl, my assailant had disappeared. The library was untouched except for the book I’d dropped in my desperation to get away.

I had been untouched since. Nevertheless, agonizing worry continued to claw at me. It was only natural that a hit would be placed on me sooner or later. The Grand Game- I was deeply involved despite living in Ceunon- along with associating with the Hive gave me more enemies than I could count on fingers and toes. My attacker could have been a member of either. However, the actual instance of the attempt along with the fact that Ília Fëon was the most non-violent place I’d ever seen gave me jitters. I gripped the skirt of my deep sapphire gown and raised it up above my ankles as I hurried up the stairs, my heels clicking sharply against the polished marble steps.

As I reached the next level, however, which was the very quiet centre of the Fane, I slowed to a halt and mentally scolded myself. Life in a human castle had softened me. By far, the closest I’d been to death in twenty years was when the cook accidentally served out spoiled meat. This was nothing that I hadn’t handled before. I sucked in a breath and let it out again slowly, peering at the central hall. Two sentinels were stationed at either door, while four elves sat silently in meditation. None of them glanced in my direction when I entered. I moved away, admiring the simplicity of the building as I walked towards one of the mirrored windows, catching my pale reflection in one of them.

Cut very low in the front, my dress was the deepest blue with a heavy skirt on top of a gossamer underskirt that was held up by a whalebone frame. It went to the floor, hiding my polished black platform heels. The bodice, in comparison to the fullness of the skirt, was very tight, leaving my shoulders and cleavage bare. It was embroidered with silver that stood out against the blue, and the long gloves that stretched up the entire length of my arms were a spot-on match to the bodice. I pulled the velvet cloth up a little higher, smoothing down the dress. My wavy ebony hair had been left as it was around my shoulders, framing my face. I looked closer at my visage in the mirror, frowning.

In par with the gown’s colour, I had outlined my eyes with dark blue kohl, and the lids were sprinkled with silver mineral powders that stood out noticeably against the golden hue of my skin. My lips had nothing but a transparent moisturizer, and I had curled and lengthened my eyelashes with oils of the deepest black. However, my face had taken on an uncharacteristically severe expression. My cheekbones seemed sharper, my mouth thinner, and my shoulders were tight against my body, like I was inside a very small room. Clearly, this entire business had shaken me more than I’d thought. Exhaling deeply again, I turned and made my way back to the library, head held high.

Once inside, I browsed the high redwood shelves, these of which were lined with scrolls. I picked one at random and opened it carefully, not daring to damage the ancient parchment. It was a human script that I glanced down at with interest, as the affairs of humans- except for the accounts on the Blue Divide- were never touched upon by the elves of Du Weldenvarden. But before I could begin to read, there were footsteps outside the door that made my heart leap into my throat. I glanced up, hearing the steps pause just outside. After a moment of hesitation, there were three knocks at the door.

“Come in,” I said crisply, rolling up the scroll.

Words;; 975 again!
Muse;; Good, but also weird since Rusalka's a totally new character.
Thoughts;; Ehh, could be better, considering the newness.

[wilddog]

Illia Feon was a terrible, beautiful place. One that would take your breathe away with its splendor if you weren’t careful, and would take your life away if your weren’t on your guard. Eriak Snarlthief wondered the streets, with his friend Avoet Cursemaker. “In this city, more then my life is at stake,” he thought grimly, “but my sanity as well” Yes, it was a gorgeous place. Tall houses dot the land, decorated with anything and everything. The gardens were quite large, (a waste in Eriak’s eyes) and filled with exotic plants. Here and there, a small creek moseyed through the brush, with the sound of running water tickling the silent observer. The streets were quite clean, relatively. No rats were in sight. Every bit of garbage swept up and deposited somewhere. Being quite removed from the land, this place was a sanctuary for travelers having difficulties. But, they had to be elves, humans have no business here. What few elves were visible, they walked to and fro with their own intent in mind, paying, in fact, no attention to the two elves.

Like children’s first glances at a new sight, so too were the two “wild” elves. For they never saw anything like this. In Goena, there were indeed buildings, but nothing came close to Illia Feon. They stood, gathering the sights (and smells). Each of them felt like they returned home after one of their “adventures”. Where warm bread cooked, familiar people smiled at them, and where injuries would be healed and forgotten. Avoet began thinking about his palace, where servants and royal friends all enjoyed life. Eriak found himself remembering his modest home. His father was a great trader, so the house was full of oddities and treasures. But, each remembered why they were here. The mysteries plague that stuck them down killed their perfect little home. Here, they were outcasts. Still, the city stirred something in each of them.

But it was a terrible place. Here, the Grand Game seemed to be the religion here. Everybody played it. Not playing it seemed to be the biggest play of them all. One needs to play, or they will be playing without themselves knowing it. Such plots could snare the weak and inattentive. And the Akuborin tribe steered clear of elvish plots. In fact, they rarely ventured out of the human territory. But, some misunderstanding caused them to flee here. Dora Touchslayer and Delo Mawwanderer were back at the camp, hunting and cleaning. Bonareir Warscar and Rinar Icekiller were somewhere in the human territory. They weren’t present while the misunderstanding took place and were still trying to find some money. Eriak longed for the tribe to be together, but they understood the risks. A tribe of “wild” elves would certainly attract attention. So, they usually paired up and went out. Avoet was here to gather supplies and find news. Eriak’s job was too get hired. Maybe a servant. Maybe a bodyguard. Maybe as a bounty hunter. It didn’t matter. As usual Eriak was resilient to the plots around him. He glared at those who frowned at him suspiciously and glared at those who smiled a bit too warmly at him. Avoet, though, seemed to be sucked in. He already got in a fight over a bucket of arrow heads. It was a silly matter, the vendor asked two coins too much and Avoet wanted them three too little. Before the two started to fight, Eriak grabbed Avoet and hauled him away. After firmly talking to him, the two decided to split up. Trading glances, the two separated. Avoet traveled to the right and entered the market place. Eriak walked straight ahead and was trying to find an inn or a merchant’s house or anything worth going too.

Having never been here before, Eriak instantly found himself lost and regretting the decision to split. The gardens and the buildings all looked so different they seemed the same. He didn’t have a map in his head, like Avoet, and the best option for him was to ask. Simple, in every other city but this one. He stopped at every vendor in sight and got silence as an answer. It wasn’t him, at least. He was wearing armor wrapped with rags and had a giant bow strapped to his back, but so was a lot of elves here. No, it was that accursed “Grand Game” that the natives appeared to enjoy playing. Finally, after yet another awkward pause, he threw his hands up in disgust. Nothing. These elves were either crazy (very likely) or something was wrong(something that did not happen much in Illia Feon). “Politics” he swore, under his breath, of course. Without an idea of his location, he continued down the street. As he has done many times before, he hoped Avoet was safe. His friend was a great one, but he had a hot-head. Shaking these thoughts out of is head, he paused at a large building.

The temple of a Goddess was awe-inspiring. Large statues of beasts and legends stared down at the small insects below. Monks and priests walked from room to room. Citizens periodically went in, most likely to offer some sort of confession. Eriak felt the urge to shake his head. Two religions here, this temple and whatever Goddess they worshipped, and the Grand Game. He wondered if both religions hated each other, or if one helped the other. This was sheer idiocy. A waste of time, in fact. Eriak felt so disgusted he almost turned around. But, inside the temple, hopefully, lay a large library. Indeed, a sign at the entrance pointed visitors to it. Because it seemed no other library existed, Eriak entered the temple. It could have been innocence that kept him from entering other rooms, but the elf walked straight towards the library door. If the temple didn’t have a map or something, Eriak could always try to find Avoet again. But it was possible that this temple really liked people and would help them out. Eriak had a pretty good memory, and a single glance at a map could help him out enormously. For instance, trying to find an inn here or the house of a trader would be greatly appreciated. As he walked, a masked man ran past him and flew out of sight, clutching his belly. Crazy elves. Paying no attention, He continued to track inwards. He attracted little attention. Most of it came from his bow. Weapons weren’t a common sight here. When a monk came into view, Eriak bowed chivalrously and muttered a prayer. The monk paid him not a second glance and scurried along. Just as well, Eriak had no idea what the name of the deity was. Noticing the soldiers milling around, the elf wondered if the temple needed more men. Surely, Avoet and Eriak could pretend to be religious while racking in the money. After one paycheck, as always, they would desert their posts.

Finally, he reached the door. Not knowing if he was too walk in or wait, he knocked three times. Nervously, he rubbed his forehead. The temple seemed uncommonly hot. A voice cried out, “Come in” Reluctantly, he opened the door. Inside, there was a priestess in a blue dress. She was busy rolling up a scroll or something. Most likely the librarian, fixing up the place. Not knowing whether to bow or not, he simply spoke out “Yes, do you happen to have a map of the city? My friend and I are looking for a job around here and a map would be greatly appreciated.” He instantly regretted adding that last part. It gave too much away. But, it wasn’t like he was going to see this person again. She could never give them a job. Besides, working in a temple would be hell for them. Still, if she knew where a map was, he would carry her on his back all the way there (but by the look on her face, Eriak would have been happy to keep his skin. She had a look that could curdle milk inside a cow. He even suspected that she would smile upon hearing that). Peering around, he was glad he went here. This library was huge. If they didn’t have a map, nobody will.

[vassil]

Vassil had just arrived within the city the night before, hoping to stay a few days and recover from his long journey before continuing on into the forests towards his family’s home in Ellesmaera. He had spent most of the morning in a small clearing, performing Rimgar, and going through his usual forms so as to make sure his fighting didn’t get rusty. It really was unnecessary for him to go through the forms, but he liked too anyways, it was a habit that came from spending 50 years under the tutelage of the riders. It kept his mind sharp and his blades sharper. The city itself was a peaceful enough place, the occasional elf darting into or out of view on one errand or another, sometimes coming into view laboring at some task they decided would please them that day.

He returned to his small room and cleaned himself up, dressing for this day’s task. There he put on his Russet tunic, and pants, his wide belt, and leather boots. His ever present weapons hanging at his sides. He ran a comb through his hair, before seating himself on the bed and putting his hair into its’ ever-present braid. Allowing it to hang down his back, he found a tray of fruit and bread waiting for him on the table near the door, along with a small pitcher of juice. He slowly consumed his breakfast as he thought about what he had been asked to do today. Today, he was going to spend the day in the library, perhaps studying, perhaps helping out with any work that needed to be done. Whatever he was able to do upon arriving at the Fain. He had heard that the Countess of Ceunon was in the city, maybe he would offer her his protection during her visit, and generally nobility could never have enough guards, especially this far away from home. So as he finished eating, he brushed the crumbs from his hands and left his room.

Walking across the elven city, he looked at the large gardens that grew throughout the city, taking in the scenery as he did, also making a note of each building that he passed. A warrior always remembered every detail of his surroundings. He thought to himself as he did so. Soon, he found the entrance to the Fain of Nyx. He entered the building, and from quiet discussions of the guards, he found that he had become lucky. The Countess was within the building right now. It would only be a matter of finding her now. Unfortunately this was a large building with many rooms. He wandered through the main part, looking for the entrance to the library section, the most likely location to find the Countess. He rounded a corner and nearly ran into a masked individual who seemed to be running through the building, clutching himself as if injured. He was halfway through offering his assistance when the figure was gone, not even slowing down to acknowledge his greeting.

His tooled leather boots creating a barely audible sound as they came into contact with the floor on each step. His weapons hung ready at his belt, the Crane and Panther, as he liked to think of them, after the engraving upon the hits, his hands ready to grab them at the first sign of trouble. At this point he looked one hundred percent business. Though he was young by elven standards, he felt as if he was mature enough to handle and problems that may come up. He had been in the peaceful city, seeking to offer his services to the small group of sentinels that guarded the city, as he rested for a few days from his long journey back to Du Weldenvarden.

His eyes scanned the halls as he walked, peering into each room as he passed, trying to find the room that the woman he was to meet would be found. He soon located the place he was looking for, stopping outside of the room. He looked into the open door, spotting a woman, and an elf, seemingly in conversation. He waited a moment before entering the room. He gave a formal bow before offering them each a proper greeting, the tips of the scabbards containing his swords clicking together as he bowed. Swallowing lightly as he eyed the beautiful elven countess. This was not the time to get tongue tied he told himself. “Pardon my intrusion, but I heard that my lady was here in the city today, and I came to offer my services while she was here. My name is Vassil Fjaðrdanze, most recently a student of Rider Viroling in the city of Ileria. I have just ended my apprenticeship with him and am traveling home to visit family. I finished his tutelage a few months back, and was widely acknowledged within the city for my skill at the dance of Crane and Herring.” He said, using his own term for combat. He called it such after the carvings on his own swords, and his own personal fighting style. He was very polite in his request, looking at her respectfully as was due. He knew that he was just old enough not to be considered a youngling, and it would be difficult for him to prove that he was skilled in his trade. He adjusted his braid, flipping it back over his shoulder where it had landed during the bow that he had given, moving his hands up to his belt, allowing them to sit comfortably in front of the hilts of his weapons.

Words: 937

[Emma]

As whoever was about to bother me entered, my eyes narrowed and I shut the scroll with a very audible snap, glaring. What in the name of anything was a human doing in Ília Fëon? My mouth set into a thin line as I looked the intruder over, most irritated. Half of my city was made up of them, but I still considered the race of Man as very alien. I’d grown up among elves very similar to those in Du Weldenvarden, not the mud-caked denizens of this Broddring Kingdom. Their frightening breeding rates, boundless arrogance, and ability to wipe out entire species had never sat well with me. The fact that they were markedly less attractive than elves did not help their case, either.

Somehow, seeing one in the Fane bothered me, especially considering the utter perversion of Broddring’s version of the Voyage of the Nine Moons. Besides making money off of it and twisting the entire religion for their own selfish needs, they even sexualized the goddess Nyx as a figure of desire rather than the teacher and mother she was supposed to be. As made obvious by Ília Fëon’s strange and beautiful monoliths, Nyx was never even given any sort of humanoid form- she was colour and light, thought and sound. The designs on the wall were as much her as the scroll I was holding. Feeling oddly violated, the human’s very badly picked words only angered me further.

“Yes, do you happen to have a map of the city? My friend and I are looking for a job around here and a map would be greatly appreciated.”
I pounced. He took a step backward in obvious surprise. I snatched his face and squeezed his cheeks, giving him a little shake while a feline grin was pasted on my lips.
“In the future, human, you will address me as ‘Milady’ or ‘Your Grace’. To insult a countess in elven territory displays a level of ineptitude, that borders on the imbecilic-” My sharp accent interjected my words strongly. I broke off, pulling away with a charming smile. “And I mean that in a very caring way.”

However, before I could ask what it was that he really wanted or shoo him off, I was distracted by a new figure standing in the open doorway. This one was obviously an elf by his severe features and height, and with dark hair and eyes. From his worn clothing, he was clearly a traveller. He bowed formally and stepped into the room. At a closer glance, I could see that he was very young, perhaps only recently sent home from Ilirea. His gaze was set on me, and it was filled with such hard determination, especially for a youngster, that I found myself giving all my attention to him. When he looked me over, however, he suddenly grew nervous. I raised an eyebrow as he began to speak.

“Pardon my intrusion, but I heard that my lady was here in the city today, and I came to offer my services while she was here. My name is Vassil Fjaðrdanze, most recently a student of Rider Viroling in the city of Ilirea. I have just ended my apprenticeship with him and am traveling home to visit family. I finished his tutelage a few months back, and was widely acknowledged within the city for my skill at the dance of Crane and Herring.”

I looked him up and down, noting his stance and the unique weapons hanging at his belt. Despite his youth, he did indeed have the look of someone who’d received a more than adequate amount of training. However, that did leave the concern of his likely less than adequate amount of actual experience. The hard-eyed stare did seem to be a clever enough ruse, as I’d seen when he’d briefly become awkward around me. He might react the same way to an attack as I foolishly had when the masked man had struck out at me. At the memory of my assailant, however, I furrowed my brow and looked him over again. Perhaps hiring him on, even for the day, wouldn’t be such a terrible idea.

Come to think of it, I glanced at the human, who now looked rather irritated at the shaking he’d received. He’d mentioned that he was looking for a job. Having some extra weapons along would help me relax, even a little. I wasn’t composed now, and that was dangerous. It left me vulnerable. The moment I got home, I would have to toss myself into the mire of stealth training again. Doing so while I was here in Ília Fëon might be helpful, as well. I drew myself up and went back to the shelves, placing the scroll I’d removed inside and tucking it away safely, making a mental note to remember where it was for later on. Then, I slowly turned back to the two youngsters before me.

“Very well, then, Vassil Fjaðrdanze. I happen to have a small complication that I suspect your Crane and Herring can greatly aid. And you,” I glanced at the mortal beside Fjaðrdanze, “you mentioned that you and a friend are for hire, did you not? Despite my better judgement, you seem physically able to assist in my dilemma. Tell me your name, so that I will not have to refer to you as ‘human’ any longer.”

Words;; 900 exactly! Woo!
Muse;; Not bad. ^^
Thoughts;; Since I feel like pointing it out... YOU GUYS KNOW CLAUDIA BLACK? Rusalka has her voice. If you don't know her, then Rusalka has a deep, very refined Aussie accent. Yes, she does. XD

[wilddog]

Once Eriak settled his gaze back on the woman, she leaped at me. He felt very much surprised that a woman could move that fast. Instincts overriding his shock, Eriak stepped back and raised an arm in protest. His other arm went for the bow on his back back. But she did not attack, only grabbed his cheek and shook it. A smile crossed her face, which can only be described as when a cat pounces on a mouse, and stands there gloating. “In the future, human, you will address me as ‘Milady’ or ‘Your Grace. To insult a countess in elven territory displays a level of ineptitude, that borders on the imbecilic. And I mean that in a very caring way” Eriak felt more surprised at this then her actions. As she backed down and smiled, Eriak’s mind raced. She had no idea. Granted, Wild Elves look nothing like the High elves, but really? The pointed ears might have given it away. Though, Eriak’s ears were less sharp then hers. “Her Grace stared at him, as though wondering what to do with him. Inwardly, Eriak rolled his eyes. All this for a map. He was about to speak, when an elf appeared at the door.
This was indeed an elf, standing tall and proud. His dark eyes surveyed the room, with an iron force behind them. He seemed to glance at the elf, but paid no more attention to him. Eriak noticed the odd weapons and the ready stance, and grabbed his bow. If needed, he could fire a arrow into the elf’s belly in two seconds. It looked, though, that it wouldn’t be necessary. He appeared a bit nervous and spoke to the lady.
“Pardon my intrusion, but I heard that my lady was here in the city today, and I came to offer my services while she was here. My name is Vassil Fjaoradanze, most recently a student of Rider Viroling in the city of Ilirea. I have just ended my apprenticeship with him and am traveling home to visit family. I finished his tutelage a few months ago and was widely acknowledged within the city for my skill at the Dance of Crane and Herring”
The lady looked him up and down, judging him. Eriak did as well. The elf was well built, seemed confident, and was indeed a warrior. Eriak instantly respected him. But, his speech was quite odd, in his eyes. Rider? He had heard of the Dragon Riders, but had no idea that they took apprentices. He also appeared to be heavily trained, but with little field work. The elf also had no idea what the “Dance of Crane and Herring” was. Were all these elves crazy? It wouldn’t surprise the Akuborin chief. The lady already proved it. Shaking his head to clear the thoughts, he turned to face the elf. After placing a scoll back where it was, she spoke,
“Very well, then, Vassil Fjaordanze. I happen to have a small complication that I suspect for Crane and Herring can greatly aid. And you (glaring at Eriak) you mentioned that you and a friend are for hire, did you not, (Eriak nodded) despite my better judgment, you seem physically able to assist in my dilemma. Tell me you name, so that I will not have to refer to you as ‘human’ any longer”
Eriak would have been glad to see the lady realize that he was indeed, an elf. Well, not human, anyway. Not whishing to upset the already jumpy woman, he left it alone. No use arguing. A job though, perfect for him. They needed money, and this was a good way to get it. She obviously needed some protection, from her little speech. Momentarily, Eriak’s mind flashed to the masked man, but just as quickly, he returned. No, it couldn’t be. It was absurd to think that the librarian, no, she was somebody important. A countess, of all people, here in the library. Well, she can do anything she pleases. The countess seemed to be waiting for Eriak, so he spoke
“My name, milady, is Eriak Snarlthief. I am here because my friend, Avoet Cursemaker, and elf mind you, is a friend of mine. We seem to be a little short on money and we split up, he to buy things we need and me to find a job for us both. I think we will both gladly accept the offer, provided, of course, you pay us handsomely. But first, who are you? I tell you my name, so tell me yours. Forgive, I am just a human lost in a world not mine” Eriak smiled inwardly again. This was going to be a pain. And yet, fun at the same time.

TERRIBLE, I KNOW THE NEXT WILL BE BETTER