A Silver Sword Falls

[Treshure 5817]

 

Valmuel lay on the ground, inspecting the trunks on the floor of the tree. She ran her hands over it, beyond the deep grooves in the aged tree, to the center of the oak. She saw a humanoid figure, with a hard, stern expression on his face. His staff raised, defensively. Creased over it's surface, ice with an eery feel. The man, presumably a Druid, died fighting. For something, however. And just as those thoughts passed in her head, a presence was felt. One that could not be mistaken.

 

Valmuel spun to her feet, narrowing her eyes on the towering figure not twenty meters away. It breathed heavily through the shrapnel of it's corrupted being, heaving words into existence. "Bow before Setherien."  Valmuel would leap, Valmuel would jump, Valmuel would slice down such evil beings normally. It's presence crept into her very being, and she knew right then the battle would not be like ones before.

 

 

She immediately began the routine. Times past hardened her pattern of how she dealt with these things. She began to conjure the mist, solidifying it into a fine light. And she shot at the Harbinger, but it was a change of situation that it repelled the light, that would normally eat at and destroy the Harbinger. Valmuel invested her energy into that blast, that was capable of weakening it. But it was only capable.

 

Back and forth they traded blows, the mist and light from Valmuel occasionally hitting home, but she was faltering. The tainted evil was swung at her feet, frost making her slip. Her connection broke, and that was the demise. She rounded back up to her feet, sending a volley of solid shards of purple light at the being, but they were weak and easily fended off. A blast of black smoke hit her shoulder, sending her flying back, smashing into the ground. There lay a wound, festering as corruption seeped deep into her. She groaned on the ground as the Harbinger made it's way to her, slowly stepping closer and closer to a horrible demise.

 

She weakly tried to sit up, sending a puff of the once powerful mist at the Harbinger. It hit his shoulder, sending him a step back. He edged his way towards her, the bottom of the staff of dark energy revealing a sharp end. He positioned it above her chest, as Valmuel protectively held her hands above her head. And the being that had once ended many lives would do it once more. Sending it flying into her chest, she gasped, eyes wide open as the staff burrowed deep into the plate, and into her chest.

 

With a sickening twist and wrench, he aimed for the final place. It was close to the end for Valmuel. Placing a trembling hand over the hopeless wound, her face fell slack as she looked up to the sky, the Harbinger posing the staff above her throat. Silently, and brutally, he tore it's way through to the other side. A plethora of blood came from the wound, and it was finished.

Even the ones who persevered to the end would meet their fate sooner or later.

 

[]

 

This was a blast playing Valmuel, made a lot of friends and enemies along the way. But all things must die, and I couldn't let her linger in a /me list un-played. It was fun. But alas, it's all ogre now.
Also, please no troll posts.

[Crayfishchris 751]

Over in Tahn'siol, Yulnii continues to draw in her ever-growing sketchbook, unaware of the events that had just occurred. Surrounded by the rest of the Elibar'acals, she partakes in conversation at random, sometimes toying with the magic, sending swirls of mist to tickle their noses or (in the case of Asul) grow tired. At this point, it had been almost a year since Valmuel and Yulnii had seen each other.

 

Yulnii didn't realize that her enemy-turned-friend was gone. The woman that she had spent hours with, training, talking, learning. The one who had hardened her to the outside world, who had left her on her own. The one person she could ever actually confide in.

Yulnii didn't realize that her mentor was gone. The woman who had bestowed upon her the gift of Fi'hiiran'tanya and all its knowledge. The woman who had known the ways of the world so well, and even when gone, had tried to teach her them.

Yulnii didn't realize that her family, so small, had lost another member.

Yulnii didn't realize that now, she was the most powerful anti-mage in the world of the Fringe.

Yulnii didn't realize that Valmuel was dead.

 

Maybe she would in a year, ten years, or a hundred. Who can really tell? Word can go slowly when the deaths are silent. And even the great memories of the elves fade with time. But when she would eventually find out... her heart would break into a thousand pieces and she would cry for her lost great-aunt, the strongest woman that had ever lived.

 

Rest in peace, Valmuel Elibar'acal.

 

((OOC))

All good things must come to an end, I suppose. You are an incredible RPer, man. Valmuel was one of the best characters on LoTC, without a doubt. I do believe that she takes a place as a Lord of the Craft. Come join the high elves again sometime, k? ;)

[Rig 17581]

((Damn...))

Myth Sylvari begins to wonder what happened to his mentor when he was a conclave guard, he shivers slightly, remembering the swimming... he suddenly has a nervous like lurching feeling in his stomach.. 

[Booklight12 481]

A frigid shiver runs down Beranabus's spine as he thinks about Valmuel not knowing she is dead "Least she 'ad bad aim wit' a crossbow.." He places his hand on his chest remembering the time he first met her but then shrugs it off as he takes another swig of his whiskey bottle

 

((Dang, gonna say it is sad to see her go she was a great character))

[Birdwhisperer 1174]

Moved to the Great Library. It shall be sorted into appropriate category shortly.