Igne

[mmat 7460]

 

Igne

 

 

“Write your letters, sword-elf, your bravery has earned you that.”

 

The helmeted figures finally left the room, more a prison, in which the Csarathaire now sat. He shuffled his feet slightly, resulting in a clunk when the metal bindings on his feet and legs moved. The restraints were irritating him greatly, and his grimacing expression showed this, a result of both his physical condition and the humiliation which being captured again had brought. A result, once again, of oversight, hubris and stupidity. How could he have forgotten his blade? It was impossible, he never forgot... Pointless now. He shook off the thought and planted his head on the table, running a stressed hand through his hair and cursing himself with each thought. The now-scruffy, mis-sized captive clothing sagged off his frame as the warrior elf forced himself to sit up. He stared at the numerous empty pieces of parchment in front of him, and began to write, sweat appearing on his brow every so often.

..

 

    “We are leaving now, send them and come.”

 

He turned and gave the man a solitary nod. Why? He should be treating these criminals with spite at every opportunity. What would be the point? His mind reasoned, and he shook his head to himself. At least these abductors had allowed him the privilege of writing to those he loved, whether or not he showed it. But why? They had been amiable enough to him after his forcible capture, so he resolved to ask them the cause of their tolerable demeanor. The letters. He snapped back to the dingy reality after a moment, and clasped the rolled up pieces of parchment tightly, as if they were life itself. The abandoned alpine landscape they’d ended up in made it impossible to tell whether it was night or day, but it did not matter. Moving over to a high perch under close supervision, Khaine Csarathaire sent his letters.

 

“Enough time, sword-elf. You can handle yourself, you do well with us. Do not drag your feet in fear of death.”

 

Another solitary nod came from the often-defiant son of Malin and he stood swiftly, apparently aiming to at least give his captors an easier time of things, despite his situation. Perhaps the situation wouldn’t be so bad after all. For a final moment, he watched the birds taking his messages away, and he let out a relieved, unbound sigh. Leading his overseer towards the main group once again, the small horde of captors marched off into the mountains. The phoenix had led his ancestors through the frozen peaks long ago, perhaps they would lead him. Finally, he raised his scarred right hand, and rested the palm on his chest, where a tattoo was half visible beneath his clothing.

 

“Igne.” he whispered, a sorrowful, but peaceful expression on his face. He would return, some day.

 

((GNight LoTC, been a good run. xoxox))

[ElevenJellyBeans 100]

Aravae Csarathaire sat at her desk with her hands folded and perched upon its surface, The elf stares out of her window in a rather Melancholy expression. She'd say nothing as she thought about the goodbye she never got to give to her dear brother. "Van'ayla brother, No words of good can be given in your absence... Van'ayla…" She whispers to herself and continues to stare into the void of the sky.

[Malocchio 983]

Vaishnavi awoke from a damning nightmare within the evening of Khaine's disappearance. Her hair was entirely disheveled, cheeks damp from tears, bare feet carrying her in pursuit of her lover throughout the city in the late night. The druidess searched high and low for the son of Malin yet he was nowhere to be found - gone with the wind. Hereafter she neglects to find solace or sleep, unable to find herself at rest without Khaine at her side, offering silence to her dearest friends, a heart broken.

[Runabarn 1028]

"Do you sense that? A disturbance in the weave of fate. As if a great dark cloud has finally been blown away."

Saliva remarks to the crab she's just captured, on some far off beach, before biting it in half only to spit it back out having just remembered she never liked crab.

 

"Yeah, I never liked that one either. Briney and rough to the touch."

[Nummy 413]

 

A loud Draconian roar breaks the silence of the night, echoing along the River and against the mountains as a great plume of flame lights the sky of Renatus.

 

A tribute to the lost Phoenix. May it one day guide him home. 

 

[GDPR 014 48]

Klaus sits in his laboratory, gloves pattering the table as he thinks of his Elven friend. 

 

"What a curious individual. He's like me, but denies it. Even though I departed, I hope to see him sometime soon... away from The Beast's grasp."

 

He shifts from the table, clutching his arm as he walks over to the alchemical furnace, depositing fuel and igniting the flames. Fire reminded him of the Owynists purified by flame, and Khaine's philosophy. 

 

"To be purified from the Beast is to embrace health." He rasps as he added various liquids into the cannisters attached to the alchemical furnace, watching the fluids slowly drain and become gas, only to return as a combined fluid; a needed change for something new and improved.

 

"The wielders were not the only disease there." The new fluid found itself in a third cannister -- a fine orange, much like the center of a flame. It is the great purifier, a powerful task, and blessed fuel. The needed medicine. He gathered vials and attached them to the spigot connected to the canister. 
 

"In truth, it was all a disease. I wore all that gear to protect myself from the plague carriers. Twisted vermin that spread the infection." Vials  filled themselves with each actioning of the spigot. "The longer he stayed there, the more he had a chance of being corrupted. I hope he came to his senses, or some act of divine miracle will have him depart and clear his mind." 

 

"In the future perhaps, you will find the infection purged." Inverting each vial, he took a few moments for them to settle. He took one, and uncorked the supplement. It was a matter of seconds for him to down the medicine, with bits of the fluid dripping from his teeth and falling to the floor. 

 

"But that is a tale for another time. Only the future will tell." 

[Reckless Banzai Screamer 15456]

Caliban frowns noticing he had not been running into his battle buddy Khaine anymore in Caras Eldar and misses his accent already.

[_Sug 2809]

A clockmaker sits within his workshop within the mountain of Caras Eldar, his knife dragging along the wood of a grandfather clock. The head of Vassago would sway from side to side briefly before a sigh emits from the purple-ish blue skinned Mali'. He'd conclude his work as his grandfather clock came to completion it was a tribute to the Csarethare, intricate and extraordinary. A gift to honor a departed soul. "Although our meeting was brief, your departure is not a hindrance to your name. Let this clock serve in your memory." He'd place the final gear within the construct and the hands would begin to tick a solemn tune.

 

 

[Chase 3793]

The Lord Imperator of the Dominion sighed. The Praetor had gone missing for what seemed like ages. Though, he was probably just impatient. Regardless, he sat within his unfinished apartment. His helm removed as he rubbed at his temples. "You will return soon, I am sure of it."  He tried to reason with himself, but it did not offer much consolation to the 'Ker. It seemed that Khaine had departed for much longer then he anticipated. Many have gone of trips as leadership positions. Valkorion to Kairn, now Khaine. Evar'tir wished for their swift returnal, but it seemed a false hope.

[trinn 5128]

Tevi dragged a hand across the bark of the tree--a hand gloved in dirt as she stood near an offering she had placed before an altar for the Aspects.

 

"Khaine Csarathaire bears the symbol of the phoenix and its flame as his own--he is, in his way, the phoenix and fire made flesh. Let us hope he does not consume himself in flames, yes, Eni? I've not yet convinced that one to give up his shoes." 

 

Tevi merely offered a final smile towards the other elf before standing, turning to proceed in gathering her flowers and bones. 

[Burnsy 437]

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

 

If you feel this is a mistake, please contact myself or any FM and we'll restore it.