That Which Dwells Within Us All

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Talathian
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Joined: Thu Jan 01, 2015 9:29 pm
Location: Chasing a trail of gold

That Which Dwells Within Us All

Post by Talathian »

Rain fell from the charcoal clouds which blotted the sky. The solitary candle that flickered on the desk was all the light the elf needed as he transmuted his thoughts into curved Koi crescent creations on the pages before him. Thunder shook the ink in its well as he went to dip the quill once more. A simple act to nearly all, he had been none the wiser prior, yet now it filled him with a distinct minute sense of fulfillment. Such a simple act was something that set his nerves at ease. You didn't need both hands to write.

Beneath the youthful splendor of a pale complexion within the nailed canopy overhead and between the mud and himself he bore the face none may ever know; aside from one. Now more than ever in his sequence of time he needed to be stalwart. The hearts of men were easily swayed and their loyalty was mirrored so. Only another pair of eyes could decipher his enigma code, his own personal Fibonacci sequence; yet in the leather tome he stored all of those holes which had been pierced within that visibly infallible armor. Thus gave birth to the paradox of his journal. It held the reveries of an elf, son, general yet clenched within its vault his fears that were more fit for a boy.

As I am now they grow to question me. I know all well the glances with which they survey me. Eyes that are fit for a prowling wolf, fangs that are sharp and ready to pierce the neck and break the spine. The crows circle overhead all around me and I know they are merely waiting for the proper window to feast. They believe me to be weak and no longer fit to lead. An elf who does not contain the physical might of many but proved his prowess through war. Am I truly half what I once was? It is whispered that I am frail and sickly. I do not fear that they are correct. I fear that should it be that I were to face an end so nigh these scars may fade to an abyss. I may never find the repentance that I seek. Within me it burns- the yearning to unearth those roads I had once trekked, to exhume the pride that we discarded so long ago. If not for myself then for

"There is a threat within your camp." The hooded voice spoke, a familiar tone that never ceased to speak truth.

The quill was set to rest within the well and digits that had seemed at times foreign rest against the forehead as the elf shook his head.

"A flood? Bandits? Fire?" His initial reactions were those which he knew were unlikely.

"Something a bit more volatile. A parasite that won't die from a shot or fire. An idea that is going to grow and strengthen over time unless you rend it at the seams." A certainty was within the words combined with a distinct fluid blend of urgency yet offsetting calm.

"Can it wait?" The elf turned with eyes ridden by a sleepless night or several to face no one in the tent.

He knew the answer himself well enough. He rose in the trousers he wore, the boots and took with him only the wooden practice sword which lay beside his bunk. As he stepped out from the flap he could see the fire below where the men were gathered. His boots sank into the mud with every step. He descended the slope to come by the now deafened chattering. All of the eyes that had been intermingling grew weary as they faced the fire beneath the rain.

"Tonight is as good as any for a hunt. Will any men join me?" The words were per-usual from the elf. His gaze remained upon those that were gathered.

"You will hunt with that toy?" A burly man, a bandit who T'alathian had found plundering a caravan of migrants laughed more than inquired. He stood well over six feet and would rarely be seen without his preferred weapon, a small boulder on a stick.

"Have you never seen this in action?" The elf responded, eyeing the practice sword as he held it out.

"I would like to." Laughed the bandit as he pulled himself from the fire.

That pulled all of the eyes from the fire as T'alathian began to head out of the camp towards the wooded area. Those that had been surrounding the fire could not stay their curiosity and began to follow in a troop. All armed with a spear, a bow or a sword as they marched silently beneath the occasional lightning that illuminated the thick woods overhead.

They traveled through the wall of trees until they had breached into a clearing. T'alathian hadn't checked once over his shoulder but as he came to a halt he knew what would face him when he should. Twenty pairs of eyes that all glowed within the brief strikes that befell the storm. Carnivorous. Hungry. They were predators that smelled the blood in the water. There was a ruffle in the trees overhead but no birds took flight.

"I am no fool to the ways of wolves. Loyal until the first sign of weakness. Then you will feast upon the wounded and elect a new beast to follow until their time comes as well." He spoke a harsh tone over the booming thunder and stared into the eyes of the bandit who approached. The large man carried the massive weapon over his shoulders and closed the distance between them.

"No man in your service would argue that you were a skilled fighter, elf. A tactician on top of that. We have fought many battles beside you and the pay was always good. But look at yourself now. You lead us down a path of ruin. We fight for a woman. We shed blood for the weak and miserable and decrepit. Blood Lagoon was once a name so feared it had kings pissing their thrones at the mere utter of its name. We are nothing but an escort now. An escort who play patty-cake with orphans and the sickly. I would rather die than spend another day under beneath a gimp elf." He consecrated the ground with spit and eased the boulder off his shoulder as it struck the ground. He lifted it and gave it a bounce within his hands.

Words held no more power over the floes of destiny. Droplets echoed in time as they descended over the scene. An elf who was branded a cripple stood with a wooden, cracked pathetic excuse for a weapon. Opposite him the ground struggled to hold the mass of the man who wielded a force strong enough to shatter the god-sent bones of the elf. Thunder shook the trees but neither budged. Their sights were locked and under the flesh which was under assault by the rain, the bones that held them like stitches, the muscles that gave their breaths motion lay their hearts which beat now stronger than ever.

White flooded the clearing with a roar that left a ringing in every pair of ears present. Mud splashed with each step but neither men would be honest to say they could hear or feel it. He could see the mouth wide but couldn't hear the battle cry. The weapon was swung with zero lag in intentions. The elf was agile and cunning but no mistake was to be made; one mistake would put his chapters in that journal to an abrupt end. Calves that were easily the size of his head stood opposite him. He mistook the ground shaking as more thunder but it was only the weapon barely missing him as it sent layers of mud against both of them.

Dip. Dive. Duck. Run. The elf was a master of his own body to a degree that few might ever obtain over any weapon or mind. Yet tonight brought with it an element which could not be ignored. This clearing would be one's gallows.

A hush befell the trial as T'alathian found his right foot slipping ever so slightly. If only for the briefest synapse in time it was true. He could hear a grunt through the thick haze that blanketed his ears through the ringing. The sight of the monolithic man swinging the boulder was all too clear beneath the tracing light work overhead.

Ba-dump. Ba dump. Ba dump.

In that moment he could see everything. The rain, each drop as it fell. The grass beneath them drowning in the seemingly endless tides that fell. The teeth exposed in the hoarse hellish yell of the bandit as his muscles and limbs held through the swing. Most chilling was the look in his eyes. The razor-thin margin between man and beast. A killing sense that sent boiling blood through his veins. In that moment he felt the very feeling he had in that Colosseum many moons before. An overwhelming grip from the black.

It presented itself. He didn't know when but it was apparent. A white diagonal stripe. He could feel the vortex sucking him in. He could hear nothing as time played so slow. His grip on the wooden sword tightened and he felt the burning as his blood slipped down his palm and wrist. He swung.

A calamity silenced the storm in that moment. All of the bystanders were sent to their backs. Each tree struggled to maintain their stead as some began to topple over. The clouds overhead ruptured and splintered forming an eye. Rain ceased to fall over the clearing and the moon was visible, full and bright showering them with its sight.

Only one stood where the threads of fate intertwined. A crater formed from where they had been. Where one was. The elf stood with the wooden sword by his side, still clenched in his grasp. The blood trickled under the weight of his grasp.

As the men rose and came to the edge of the crater they saw him. Coated in the mud and blood. Panting beneath the moon with the feral visage that refused to acknowledge them but instead locked on the bandit.

Squeals filled the air. Cries bounced off the freshly broken bark. Fingernails clawed at the mud as one eye dangled from its socket.

"P-Please! H-Help me!" Shouted the bandit. None answered as they stared at his grotesque form. His legs had been cleaved off just above the knees. His bones showed from the joints, protruding and naked to the eye. His blood began to swirl and mix with the mud beneath him. Standing behind him with the elf who did not blink, did not move.

Moments folded over themselves and felt like an accordion was deflating time for all present. The screams didn't stop. He desperately clawed, dragged his body but ultimately kept sliding back into his own pool of waste that began to extrude.

T'alathian made his way up the crater and as he rose those present all backed away. Silent. Their eyes were all upon his form. He didn't look any of them in the eye but it was without question that his words were directed to them.

"You will all keep vigil over him until his last breath. You will all burn this sight into your memories. You will tell every other man you encounter this sight. Should you return to camp and you make the mistake to ever look me in the eyes I will have you strung up as he is now for all to see." He clutched the wooden sword as he began to walk back to the camp. They parted like a sea to allow him through. None dared to gaze up to his face, they all watched as his boots left a trail behind him. Lightning struck around them once more, but as they turned to the crater, where the bandit howled and shrieked like a banshee, the storm had not touched it. The moonlight filled it with a ghastly aura. A few may have turned back to see T'alathian's gaze once more. Unmistakably lit were his hazel eyes in the light. His tone colder than bitter steel; frozen further than the deepest depths of the sea.

"We do not hold prisoners. We are not criminals. There is only one governing force in this unit. Her word is law. Should you ever seek to undermine it; I will be your reckoning." Only the sound of rain and thunder mixed with the cries from the crater as the elf made his way back to camp. There was a ruffling in the trees, but no birds flew on the night.
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