Post by spudnik on Feb 5, 2012 12:41:14 GMT -8
Kaevra was an adept wizard; but she had been called by the temple for other duties. the magister sent her off to gather bones, herbs, skins, and other such objects for the making of poultices, incenses, and rituals. she had long white hair even at such a young age; mother showed her to brush it and keep it clean, and faithfully Kaevra followed instructions and kept her white strands silky and scented. it matched nicely with the white robes given to her by the temple in the duties of an Oracle. on a particular day, she was sent to gather some fragrant flowers to be mushed into incense; sent to the waterfall between the elven kingdom and the darkelven kingdom.
on such a day there was also an knight, named Botjan, who was sent to accompany her, to protect her should the trees wake and the ghosts and mist horrors scream and howl. Botjan was adept at the shield; his much coveted Brigantine armor and shield were earned through some long hours on the battlefront. Kaevra found his wild blue hair to be a flash of colour in a race so perpetually grey in all its things.
they had walked from their temple all the way down to the waterfall, and Kaevra thought it was but a few moments. they shared a few stories and had a little laugh on the stroll down the path. today she anticipated to be a great day; Botjan as it turned out meant Shield. it was a little spoken dialect by an long outdated native tribe of darkelfs.
many such experiences were theirs to share; and Kaevra always recounted them, with a sharp and excellent memory. together they travelled far across the lands gathering, killing, as required by their temple higherups. each tme, that certain silly matriarch would pair them together. Kaevra recalled of the many times they had been sent out, and had simply gone to a little known nook in the sides of a certain mountain, to spend days simply sitting in each others arms whispering sweet phrases or making love, returning emptyhanded claiming defeat.
Botjan was by no means rich, nor was his family, but he had performed a number of quests for the council and had found a rare dagger within the School of dark arts; this he traded to the jewellery brokers in the darkelf village for a pair of very special rings. when next the two were sent out again, he would make his move, having waited what seemed an eternity for the opportune moment.
they were sent to the location of the mirror of the land dragon Antharas, near the mountains northwest of the village of Gludin. here, Botjan slew some fairies, securing a spot near the mirror. they approached it with caution, knowing it to be asleep; quietly Botjan took Kaevra by the hand, holding her by her side turning them to the mirror. they looked into it, and Botjan made a witty comment of how they appeared as newly wed, in her white robes. as she giggled, his left hand deftly produced a small box; his thumb grasping the top of it, opening it with a flick, exposing the silver contents. at the same exact moment, slipping his left knee out from under him, grasping firmly her hand, looking up with a broad smile.
he need not even ask the question before she jumped on top of him in an excited squeal. she slipped on her ring, silver, adorned with the purple gemstone eye of the opal beast; granting her extended Oracle powers. she could see into him with this ring, and she knew he could see back.
they were married under a string of daisies wrapped around the hand of shilen. each made a vow, to be broken by death only, to love, cherish, and keep one another. a vow sure to be remembered by shilen, indeed. and tested.
thereafter they lived outside of the temple; not cast away but now called to live from the land itself; they had made homes in caves, on mountainsides, all over the western half of aden. nightly he hunted, as she prepared mixtures of spices cultivated as they went. they two lived as king and queen.
nightly they had made the music of love, each night more pleasurable than the last for the rings had shown them the inner parts of their partner; made clear their desires and appreciations. each night the caress more tender than the last.
she had borne him several children. some grew to be fair fighters, others to be mages, all sent as per darkelven custom to the temple at the ripe young ages of growth, not seen from again. it surely broke both their hearts, however unbroken was their bond, strengthened now in the pain of separation as they leaned on each other.
shilen now grew in power, and it became always more dangerous to go out for the nightly kill. with tears, Kaevra recalled the day he never returned; having made the kill, with it on his shoulders even, he made the march to their camp on the mountainside when he was set upon by a beast. it was sent awakened by shilen which he could not defend against and which the opal beast's eye could not have foreseen.
against this beast his death came swiftly. a sudden stop to the tie made centuries ago. the ring now somewhat useless, kept as a token, the only one she had, to remember him by. she set up a small tombstone in his honor; she shed tears only that she could not engrave the extent of the memory she should leave, instead simply cutting his name. she visited this tombstone now once each year, grieving him ever in a veil of black, and pronouncing a prayer to a nameless god for his soul to move away from shilen's grasp and into a place of rest.
on such a day there was also an knight, named Botjan, who was sent to accompany her, to protect her should the trees wake and the ghosts and mist horrors scream and howl. Botjan was adept at the shield; his much coveted Brigantine armor and shield were earned through some long hours on the battlefront. Kaevra found his wild blue hair to be a flash of colour in a race so perpetually grey in all its things.
they had walked from their temple all the way down to the waterfall, and Kaevra thought it was but a few moments. they shared a few stories and had a little laugh on the stroll down the path. today she anticipated to be a great day; Botjan as it turned out meant Shield. it was a little spoken dialect by an long outdated native tribe of darkelfs.
many such experiences were theirs to share; and Kaevra always recounted them, with a sharp and excellent memory. together they travelled far across the lands gathering, killing, as required by their temple higherups. each tme, that certain silly matriarch would pair them together. Kaevra recalled of the many times they had been sent out, and had simply gone to a little known nook in the sides of a certain mountain, to spend days simply sitting in each others arms whispering sweet phrases or making love, returning emptyhanded claiming defeat.
Botjan was by no means rich, nor was his family, but he had performed a number of quests for the council and had found a rare dagger within the School of dark arts; this he traded to the jewellery brokers in the darkelf village for a pair of very special rings. when next the two were sent out again, he would make his move, having waited what seemed an eternity for the opportune moment.
they were sent to the location of the mirror of the land dragon Antharas, near the mountains northwest of the village of Gludin. here, Botjan slew some fairies, securing a spot near the mirror. they approached it with caution, knowing it to be asleep; quietly Botjan took Kaevra by the hand, holding her by her side turning them to the mirror. they looked into it, and Botjan made a witty comment of how they appeared as newly wed, in her white robes. as she giggled, his left hand deftly produced a small box; his thumb grasping the top of it, opening it with a flick, exposing the silver contents. at the same exact moment, slipping his left knee out from under him, grasping firmly her hand, looking up with a broad smile.
he need not even ask the question before she jumped on top of him in an excited squeal. she slipped on her ring, silver, adorned with the purple gemstone eye of the opal beast; granting her extended Oracle powers. she could see into him with this ring, and she knew he could see back.
they were married under a string of daisies wrapped around the hand of shilen. each made a vow, to be broken by death only, to love, cherish, and keep one another. a vow sure to be remembered by shilen, indeed. and tested.
thereafter they lived outside of the temple; not cast away but now called to live from the land itself; they had made homes in caves, on mountainsides, all over the western half of aden. nightly he hunted, as she prepared mixtures of spices cultivated as they went. they two lived as king and queen.
nightly they had made the music of love, each night more pleasurable than the last for the rings had shown them the inner parts of their partner; made clear their desires and appreciations. each night the caress more tender than the last.
she had borne him several children. some grew to be fair fighters, others to be mages, all sent as per darkelven custom to the temple at the ripe young ages of growth, not seen from again. it surely broke both their hearts, however unbroken was their bond, strengthened now in the pain of separation as they leaned on each other.
shilen now grew in power, and it became always more dangerous to go out for the nightly kill. with tears, Kaevra recalled the day he never returned; having made the kill, with it on his shoulders even, he made the march to their camp on the mountainside when he was set upon by a beast. it was sent awakened by shilen which he could not defend against and which the opal beast's eye could not have foreseen.
against this beast his death came swiftly. a sudden stop to the tie made centuries ago. the ring now somewhat useless, kept as a token, the only one she had, to remember him by. she set up a small tombstone in his honor; she shed tears only that she could not engrave the extent of the memory she should leave, instead simply cutting his name. she visited this tombstone now once each year, grieving him ever in a veil of black, and pronouncing a prayer to a nameless god for his soul to move away from shilen's grasp and into a place of rest.
