alonimi
Eiil-Kai's Hope - Printable Version

+- alonimi (https://alonimi.net)
+-- Forum: Fantasy (https://alonimi.net/forumdisplay.php?fid=70)
+--- Forum: Misc Fantasy (https://alonimi.net/forumdisplay.php?fid=82)
+--- Thread: Eiil-Kai's Hope (/showthread.php?tid=764)



Eiil-Kai's Hope - deific - 10-31-2018

Eiil-Kai's Hope


A Closed Story




[Image: 67VnqJN.png]


Chapter 1
Before the Beginning



RE: Eiil-Kai's Hope - deific - 10-31-2018

Styrn was never at peace. The shanty town that dwelled at the base of a horseshoe of mountains used to be a secondary home to the Elves of Torq. No more. What was once a serene residence turned into a criminal harboring shady society. When the previous government was usurped by a band of marauders it caused intensive damage to Styrn, which from there on became homage to thieves, outcasts and the abandoned. Torq had tried many times to retake its sister home, but to no avail. Conflict flourished and roared, the residents under toe taking the brunt of the punishment.

Not all were in agreement with this new rule under outsiders. Many a time there were groups who collaborated and attempted to strike out at those who imposed practical imprisonment upon them. Every time ended in failure, the recoil more harsh with each following attempt, met with merciless slaughter and left to rot in distant ditches as both a reminder and warning to those who may have shared the same ideas but hadn't acted upon them yet. Race did not matter so much when it came to Styrn, only where ones loyalty lay.

Among those who held disdain was a more quiet individual, a High Elf named Elros Auren. Seated at a table in the open and adjacent to a grassy field, he had a journal in hand opened before him. Elros was clad in formal robes with a family crest imprinted upon the back, depicting a ringed, jeweled, golden dragon with flames encompassing its body. Short, somewhat messy, silvery locks hung just below his brow and over pale skin, separated at the center of his forehead. Golden eyes scrutinized the blank parchment in front of him, a slightly trembling hand holding a quill with indecisiveness and uncertainty.

A calm exhale followed a deep inhale. Elros steadied himself and began to write.

'Dear Father, wherever you are,
I know not why you dumped me here in this criminalized cesspit. What aught I do? What did I do to deserve this?
I have nothing. I cannot truly call this 'Styrn' my home. I refuse to. Surely we were meant for better?
All I have is this spell book with our family crest on it. Sometimes when I flip through it I think of you, or at least, how I think you would be. The feelings are mixed.
I intend to find you if you yet live, although by now I'm sure you abandoned our family lineage. The records are all burned and I find it difficult to trace anything worthwhile.. just scattered rumors and hearsay.
Perhaps this is my path- my purpose, to study the arcana that has been passed down to me. As the apparent sole survivor, I clutch it close.
It's all I have left.'


Elros closed his first journal entry with gritting teeth, a welled anger alive in the pit of his stomach. When Elros was abandoned at Styrn his memories had been taken from him, or so he assumed. There was no recollection of anything regarding his previous life. No family. No friends. No home. He was taken under care by a small family of locals right before the overtake of the town, but they were raided and killed not long after. Abandoned by his first family and a witness to the murder of his foster family, Elros' resentment toward the uncivilized rose to an all time high at an early age. High Elves lived long, almost to the point in which they were regarded as being timeless. At the date Elros was abandoned he was already 153 years old, not even an adult by his race's reasoning. The High Elf was now 208 years old, having endured over sixty years of this treacherous lifestyle.

To live long, to watch as entire generations of humans, dwarves, orcs and the like appear and perish.. part of him hated it. Elros always longed to live in the moment, but while time was limitless, memories were not, which became all the more apparent to someone who could live for hundreds upon hundreds of years. It was the whole reason that Elros finally decided to begin a journal, to record all of the events that were both internally and externally important to him. On top of that, it aided Elros in dispensing his emotions onto parchment rather than joining those ever forming resistance groups. He was young and ignorant, but not stupid. He knew better than to court death.

No longer trembling, a composed hand began to scrawl a second entry on the spot while the opposing clutched his crested family spell book under his arm.

'Dear Father,
They say we pure Elves are timeless. That as we progress through the rising and falling crescendo of life our perspective is different than that of.. shorter lived beings. I would think this true were I not obsessed with the finer details. If anything, it makes the amassing firmament all the more difficult to manage. I am young- I know this. But in the face of others I have lived through many generations.
They ail me still.
My purpose calls out for me, or rather, I yearn for it to. I know not much of bereavement, but I have seen it time and time again. I am not jealous of these people, yet I do not think they jealous of me as well. Who suffers more? One who has lost everything.. or one who had nothing left to lose to begin with?
If I am to master this empyrean flow.. what must I do?'


Elros calmly closed his journal and rose to a stand. A look of determination was painted upon his countenance as his brows furrowed, wind softly billowing the bottom of his robes. For over sixty years he had looked for answers, knowledge-- anything that could be regarded as a clue to his past life, his family. There was nothing. This was not his home. These were not his people. This was not his purpose.

"If I have any hopes of finding you or your remnants, they will not be found here," Elros whispered to himself, wary of the fear mongering inhabitants of Styrn.

"This is not the right way. I must explore the world beyond this hellpit. I must escape. Perhaps then I can find you, my purpose, or both."



RE: Eiil-Kai's Hope - deific - 12-22-2018

To live in Styrn as anyone who wasn't one of the marauders was a lifestyle of poverty and helplessness. What property one had was minimized, their pay cut and food often seized. It bred dissent among a defenseless populace that felt it could never be saved. By no means did Elros think of himself as some fashion of savior for this town. He likely wouldn't have stepped forward even if he had the power to turn the tides. It wasn't because he was unable or didn't have the potential to, but instead because he knew that if he did manage such a success that the people of Styrn would expect him to stay, to guard the cesspit of a town against future threats. Such decisions would keep him from his destiny, away from the answers that he had yearned for over the past hundred years. As selfish as it was, Elros had no ties remaining to this place. Those who had taken him in were taken away from him soon after. Only through magic had the High Elf managed to escape the clutches of the greedy and grime.

The time to escape was soon. A new moon was on the approach and cloudy skies hung overhead, cutting out most of the loom. Elros planned to utilize what magic he managed to learn to facilitate his escape. His quantity was small, but he was adept at adapting and improvising on the spot. Every essential and not overly cumbersome item that he could carry was packed. Necessary provisions had been stocked, for the wizard would be traveling a great many days on foot.

The night arrived.

"Zevi dakruta." Elros pulled a hood over his head and took his staff and spellbook in hand. The walls that encompassed Styrn were not tall, but they only offered three possible exits that were always guarded. Judging by the geographical placement of the settlement, the safest exit both on the inside and out was the Southwest gate. Above all else, the last thing Elros wanted to do was trek to the North and careen between mountain passes. Terrifying creatures lurked upon those slopes, waiting for merchants and nomads to pass through. Elros began his approach to the gate, staying in shadow where he could. The town lacked light at night, impoverish conditions having made even firewood hard to obtain. It was a lucky occasion for the High Elf, who used it to his utmost advantage. House by house he cautiously closed the distance between himself and the gate, slinking behind a trade cart once he was nearby.

Two marauders were on guard, torches in hand. Elros scrutinized the exit, looking for a path that would provide him with an exit without making his presence known. No luck. A plan was concocted on the spot and with confidence Elros walked toward the gate, a calm stance and gait. Impossibly light on his feet, the High Elf wasn't noticed until he was within arm's reach of the right-standing guard who swung around with a tired and aggravated expression on his face. "Oi, where do ya think yer goin'?" Jeered the guard. The response was a swift palm which shot forward and spread itself along the forehead of the man. A purple hue coalesced between the surfaces as Elros ushered just loud enough to be heard. "Sleep.." The spell's effect was immediate as the guard's eyes rolled back and he slumped down to the ground on the spot, torch still in hand. Alarm encompassed the second guard's conscious for just a second before the end of Elros' staff thumped him in the stomach and knocked him onto his back. The High Elf took a step back and dragged his digits along the staff's surface, a dark brown glob manifesting at the head and then spraying all over the fallen man, covering him in grease. Elros left the man on the ground and turned to finalize his escape from Styrn, a practical orchestra of cursing and racial comments hurled at him in the process.

"Don't try to stop me. This is your only warning." Said Elros, golden eyes peering at the man over his shoulder from his peripherals.

"Why you pale fuckin' stork! I'm gonna rip yer fuckin' intestines out once I get my hands on you!" Retorted the guard, slipping and clamoring all over the ground in an attempt to stand. Annoyingly enough he seemed to be making progress and the rest of the guards in the town were stirring due to the commotion. Elros' time was waning. A scowl stretched along the High Elf's countenance as he turned his body more and spoke up. "Humans.. such dim creatures." A flash of heat and light coalesced in Elros' free hand for a split moment before shooting outward, a bolt of fire striking the slathered man in the chest and igniting the grease so as to turn him into a human torch. Expected cries of agony and anguish followed whilst the fiery figure contorted on the ground, howling in dismay all the while Elros dashed out of the gate and onto the open road. A crowd of voices was building at his rear and Elros knew better than to keep his attention absolutely forward. Intuition paid off, for Elros managed to wheel himself around and thrust his staff forward just as a barrage of arrows was shot at him. A bright blue luminescence stretched and spread between the High Elf and the arrows, which pinged and ricocheted off the surface of the magical shield one after another. Cracks began to form along the surface, spider-webbing outward as the projectiles persisted.

"Hold. Hold damnit!" Muttered Elros through gritted teeth. His magical prowess was novice at best, but it gave him enough leeway to prepare another spell before his magical shield was shattered to pieces in front of him. It was by the grace of Lady Luck that he was able to narrowly dodge the two arrows that persisted and cast his next spell. This time a flash of bright colors sprayed outward from the end of Elros' staff and toward the guards, creating a light too intense to see through. Like the shield it was a momentary barrier, but it would suffice.

Elros turned tail and ran as fast as his limber legs could carry him, jutting off the road at a bend and straight into the wood line. His escape from Styrn was successful, but the journey that laid before him dwarfed that small victory with potential dangers. He would travel the entire night to secure his safety if he must, but a wizard and scholar such as himself knew better than to assume that any place could be considered safe.

"To Ellinar next.." Panted the High Elf, sweat dotted along his pale brow. The beginning of a long adventure had just begun.