Wine Before the Slaughter

[Reaver]

(Reserved for Kysis)

Flickers of light faded into the swirling depths of crimson. Occasionally, a faint reflection of a black-clad elf lit the surface of the glass, stirred along with its dark contents. Everything, even the way the elf breathed was poised for appearance\'s sake only. Rather than relax as his assistant left, the elf braced himself, coolly taming his composure for the moment he knew was fast approaching. In a few minutes, perhaps even mere seconds, his guest would arrive. It wasn\'t the fact that he had invited the man; that wasn\'t what bothered Aruthali Eyllisraheal. No, in a few moments, a potential enemy would enter his room. Aruthali was armed only with his composure. Of course, \'potential enemy\' could easily be rephrased as \'potential ally.\' It all depended on the guest\'s disposition when faced with a simple proposition. What Aruthali proposed, although simple in act, was complicated in moral nature. That was in fact, a very accurate description of Aruthali himself. He was a simple creature whose only real goal was to do his job. The nature of his job, and how he completed it, was in of itself a very different matter; just as saying someone will die is easy, simple, and perhaps even true. Actually killing the person took a bit more thought and moral balancing.

Aruthali\'s balancing act was as simple as he was. No moral qualms meant no complications when doing his job. It kept his job, despite its nature: simple. Inviting his guest was just another part of his job. As acting commander of the city-fortress, Aruthali had to ensure the safety and well-being of the Order. Until the Tahliten returned and took the reins back, this meant going through all the fallacious pleasantries: making new allies and eliminating more enemies. Aruthali himself had no enemies. Unlike most Templars of the Order, Aruthali acted in shadows and left only the dead. To be Aruthali\'s enemy, one would have to be undead. Families of his victims turned blinded eyes towards the Order, thinking (with some justification) that they were personally responsible. To them, Aruthali was just Aruthali, head of the Investigations Bureau. Even his known job merited no enemies. As head of the division that tortured and executed people, the people of Lyquis loved Aruthali for bringing them order and destroying their enemies. To the families and friends of those he tortured, he sent the possessions of the victims. Confused at the move, they would hold onto the objects, perhaps bury them in remembrance. Those who kept the items died from the poison laced on each of the objects. Those who buried the objects, Aruthali hunted down. The nature of his work was dark, and twisted. However, he did his job and with the best possible efficiency.

Tipping his wine glass slightly to deepen the torrent of wine within, Aruthali recounted the steps of his stride to the door, picturing it in his mind; despite the fact that all of those calculations were long since burned into his memories. Aruthali was born and raised in Lyquis. When humans raided the lands, he helped them and then later reclaimed the city when the human empire fell to the withering grasp of time. When the Order came along, he gave them the city, betraying it a second time. Except this time, the invaders weren’t simple men who passed as quickly as the flickers of a candle. No, these Templars of the Order were led by elves. Most of the Order itself was comprised of descendents of the ancient creatures that helped write the histories of the land. Until the Order fell by force, Aruthali couldn’t count on its occupants dying in the passage of time.

Of course, he didn’t mind the company. Templars lived and died by his whim. Fanatical legions of beggars roamed the streets, a population of fools who believed every lie that dripped from his tongue. The only man with more power than Aruthali was the Tahliten himself.

To the untamed ear, it would have been impossible to hear footsteps outside of the thick oak doors of Aruthali\'s office. For him, each step rang soundly, and signaled not the approach of his guest, but the heavy boots of his favored guard. Caskaevar glanced into the room with blind eyes only long enough to make contact with a mental exchange, before stepping back and opening the doors wide for new, ominous footsteps beyond. Aruthali calmly cleared his mind, and flicked a droplet of wine from the back of his hand. Would he order Caskaevar to kill the guest? Perhaps poison the wine, it did suit Aruthali\'s style. On the other hand, on a rare whim, perhaps Aruthali and his guest would actually enjoy the day. It didn’t really matter, whether the guest lived or died, Aruthali would still enjoy the day. He had an execution that afternoon.

(Revised a few lines to be more clear on Caskaevar\'s blindness, which is still unclear, especially with his alternate and likewise unclear way of seeing)

[Kysis]

Soldeth Auvrea’tylar had always been a man of dignity, of pride. He held his head high, violet gaze roving far. He was ever alert, aware. His steps were light and graceful, flowing like spring water over the slightly uneven cobbles. It almost looked more like he was gliding or floating than walking. In Kyvana, his home, there were people who would compliment him on his fluidity, though such words of praise rarely ever reached his ears, and if they did, they fell on deaf ones.

There were always more important things to be doing in the world which surrounded House Auvrea’tylar.

To most he was a healer. He could call forth an internal strength in order to mend wounds. Most turned a blind eye on his other practices because of what good he did for the world. If they knew… it did not matter. What Soldeth was doing was for the greater good. It would keep the Tree of Life alive for one more Cycle.

Armed escorts flanked him, not of his own training of allegiance, so they had to be watched with a hawk’s eye and a ready tongue. Soldeth could speak his enchantments and spells nearly as fast as a sorcerer, whose power was born of the blood quickening, could fling their gift. It was a long practiced skill, and had proven useful in many a pinch. There were no visible weapons on the regal elf; nor did he feel one necessary. If ever there was a day when his magics failed him, he no doubt deserved the death coming.

He turned his head slightly to the side, violet eyes catching and holding on someone watching from the shadows, undetectable to the lay person, but vividly there for him. Soldeth could sense people. Their aura, their life force, glittered to him, shown brightly. No light was needed. No vision through his purple optics. All he needed was his mind’s eye, and he could see them all as clearly as day.

One became that finely tuned when they practiced necromancy.

With a careful flick of his slender fingers, Soldeth pushed an errant strand of platinum hair back behind a pale, pointed ear. He kept walking, stride unbroken. His right hand fell back to his side, long, elaborate sleeves of his beige and white and brown robes falling to cover those digits, those sharply pointed, glossy nails. Soldeth, despite his light colors, was a frightening creature, if only for his aura, for the glint, unmistakably dangerous, in his eyes.

Those final steps up to the appointed door were soft, gliding, and his robes whispering across the stone still kept up the pretenses of floating. With a spell, he could fly, but no such displays were needed here. This was no human pissing contest. This was merely a friendly, ambassadorial type meeting, of which there would be hollow chitchat and shaking hands.

Soldeth did not look forward to this, but as the head of the ruling household of Kyvana, it was his duty.

In his absence he had two of his personal guards, the most loyal of his, trained from birth, protecting V’ran. The boy, barely a man now actually, was to be guarded as though their lives depended upon it, because the lives of the entire elven community depended upon V’ran’s survival. In a year’s time, V’ran would be sacrificed, and give vivacity anew to the Tree of Life. With that, the elves could continue on living for their seemingly limitless amount of time.

Soldeth took a breath, quiet but deep, as he stepped into the room, through the door held open for him. The escort, or at least one of them, dispersed, leaving Soldeth to introduce himself. Soldeth had never been a very social person. “I assume you are this… Aruthali Eyllisraheal, I have been invited to meet?” Soldeth waited where he was, mind keen, eyes sharp. He folded his hands before him, just a slight bit of those gleaming, claw like nails and delicate fingers visible. He would wait, and patiently. If anything started to go wrong, he would be ready.


((not revised at all.  lol.))

[Reaver]

Smiling, Aruthali stood and leaned into a short bow. "Then you must be Soldeth Auvrea’tylar. It\'s an honor." Rising from the bow, Aruthali waved a hand towards a second glass of wine. "I\'m sorry to have invited you on such short notice, but it was the most... convenient time I could arrange. The Order has been rather busy of late." He didn\'t expect Soldeth to take the wine, didn\'t really care. It was all apart of the order of things. Look presentable, act friendly, discuss current matters, set up the proposition in a way that showed Soldeth that Aruthali was well versed in this game. If his information was correct, than this Soldeth fellow would be the most suited to this situation. If his information was not correct, or insufficient, and the proposition went poorly... Aruthali sensed Caskaevar in the next room, their mental link transmitting Aruthali\'s unease. Caskaevar would act within the blink of an eye, and if the blind wizard\'s magic failed, than Soldeth would have to fight his way out of Lyquis surrounded by the very incarnation of chaos. Every soul in Lyquis was obsessed with the Order. If they didn\'t believe in the duties of the Order, then they feared the Order enough to subject themselves to it anyways. Every man, women, and child in Lyquis would take up arms against Soldeth. Personally, Aruthali found the whole thing rather tantalizing. It would be nice to clean the riff raff out of his home and redecorate.

Of course, then the Tahliten would be rather upset with him, and Aruthali rather liked working for the foolish fellow.  "I\'m sorry you couldn\'t meet with the Tahliten himself, but like I said, the Order has been busy. The very foundation of the world is a very uneasy balancing act these days. A few distinct people have made things rather difficult for us lately. But that\'s not precisely why I asked you to come today. The Order is always looking to expand its influence and network of allies. But before we can do that, we have to learn about our neighbors and do our best to come to a mutual understanding of our places in life."

Stretching as he sunk into his chair, crossing one leg over the other, Aruthali began rubbing a thumb on a ring idly. Only one ring adorned his fingers, and it changed appearances as often as he did to suit his disguises. This one was a magic device that would destroy the entire room and everything in it in a single concentrated blast of raw power. Obviously, he had never had to use it before, and still had no desire to, but it was an idle habit of his to make his weapons known to others. Typically in a way where they only found out seconds before or after dieing, but still. Old habits were difficult to break.

"It\'s come to our attention that a fell priest murdered an elder elven priest. The last we saw of him, he was in a cave near Kyvana. You have great influence in the region, and we wanted to alert you to the situation. He\'s come across some rather surprising powers. Powers that certain elves have worked their entire lives to achieve. This fell priest is a mere human. In his thirties, perhaps. Our Tahliten watched shadows rip his marshal apart from the inside. Four Templars died in that battle. All were gray elves, all of them experienced in hundreds of years of training and combat." Sipping his wine slowly, Aruthali\'s gaze swept over the back of the room. "Until we know more about how he attained his powers, we can\'t be sure what he\'s capable of. I can\'t tell you any of our plans for dealing with him, because he could quite literally be anywhere. The report said he appeared on the battlefield cloaked in shadows of his own creation, and when he left, he used those very shadows as a gateway."