Papa_Nook

Malithor would take a moment to read over the missive, a derisive snort escaping him as he crumpled up the paper. “Haelun’orian scum-” he’d mutter, tossing the paper lazily into the fireplace. He would smirk as he returned to his recliner, his eyes shutting as he drifted off. His rest was only made better by his witty response. Smoke. It was the first thing he saw as his eyes startled awake, his hands moving nursingly to his burn-covered throat. His desperate gasps for air denied by the thick smog that now permeated the room. His eyes would dart around in a primal panic, the ‘thill watching helplessly as the crimson flames scaled the walls of his cherished home. He would stumble hastily to the ground, his belly twisting as he crawled towards the exit, the sound of the flame-eaten wood crackling loudly in ears, though it was soon to be dwarfed by the shrill screams of his beloved family. He would freeze as he reached the exit, his ash-covered face contorting as he realized his children and wife were still trapped inside. He would pause; his next thought damning him to a lifetime of guilt. For but a second, he dreamed of escaping alone. Saving himself instead of his cherished kin. But like the life he had built, the current thought would go up in flames. His eyes narrowed as he was filled with a new resolve, the resolve of a father. He would with a determined howl turn back towards the cries of his young, crawling over ash and ember towards the sounds of his family. The floor would light a clear enough path, as flames licked up from the gaps in the boards. As he moved down the hallway, he would see before him an impossible choice. To his right his dear wife Fle’Elamef, trapped under the weight of a massive pillar, her legs crushed and pinned to the ground. To his left, the squeals of his two young, each of them cowering in the corners of their room. His eyes would bulge as he watched the scene, his bleeding lips quivering as he struggled to come to grips with his situation. He would weep loudly, as he thought on his impossible scenario, his blistered fingers slowly dragging him towards the room with his children, his eyes slamming shut as the stinging smoke seared them close. His hesitation, however, would prove to be fatal, as the support beams began collapsing around him. The house would in its entirely crumble, the previous light he once saw dimming into near-total darkness. He opened his eyes once more, his body aching from the raining barrage of wood and stone. He would stare ahead dazedly, a small tunnel of light illuminating a narrow path, a tunnel to the outside world. He would crawl towards it, wailing the names of his wife and children, pleading to the heavens for their forgiveness. As he reached the exit he would be blinded by the bright light, his vision vanishing momentarily. When his vision returned, he would look around at the scene before him. Several poorly dressed Mali’ame were dancing around the flames, appearing to have mistaken his burning home for one of their treasured bonfires. He would look on with sullen eyes, his earlier wails having been lost to the primal hoots and yelps of the Mali’ame. He would stare at the nearest elfess as she read her missive, a smirk rising to her face. “Stupid Haelun’orians.” she’d chide, tossing the paper into the inferno that was once his life.