Remember The Fallen

[Reine]

I found out Lord Angelkos passed away while I was on hiatus from the site and kind of took it hard. Bruce and I used to talk and write together all the time. Died in a car crash. He told me that two different psychics predicted he’d die in a motorcycle accident. Guess they almost had it right. I don’t know how to process it. How do you say goodbye to someone you never met, when you can’t even visit their grave? Someone who still somehow managed to make an impact on your life. So this is my way of honouring him, by giving him one last story…



The boat listed dangerously from one side to the other. The floor shifted with it, suddenly feeling as if it became the wall. Each item in her room went careening from their original spaces to crash against the wood in a resounding clatter. Even Faelynn could not keep her balance in the incredible ferocity of the storm. She found herself clutching at the post of her bed as it screeched four feet to the right. Her stomach heaved with each motion the boat made and several times she’d already found herself clutching a bucket and emptying the contents into it‘s depths. That bucket now rolled across the floor, spilling that gross liquid mass across the worn floor. The smell of it permeated the room, making her feel even more nauseous. Forcing her to swallow down what remained of the dinner she’d eaten only hours before.

I need to get out of this room.

Another wave crashed against the boat, she felt it; heard it. The roar that echoed throughout the wooden structure sounded like an angry dragon. Her stomach dropped somewhere to her knees as it filled her room and shook her to her very bones. A cold sweat broke out down her back and she could feel panic beginning to claw it’s way to the surface of her mind. Calm, she needed to keep her calm. Needed to keep her thoughts focused. But all she could think about were the endless crushing waves of water as they slammed one after another into the ship. Wood groaning and creaking with the pressure and force of the storm. They were going to rip the vessel in two and drown her. She just knew it.

Grabbing her Bag of Infinity from the bed, Faelynn slipped the straps on her shoulders and began to long walk to the door. In all honesty it was only five feet away from her. Ships did not have the most luxurious of accommodations and her room was small and cramped and right now closing in on her. She needed to get away. And she needed all her stuff on her in case this damn pile of floating wood actually did break apart and she miraculously made it to shore; alive.

Amalia already lay strapped to her back. The enchanted spear folded up to it’s two foot length and resting in its sheath. The Iron Shackles on her feet. She barely took the knee length boots off unless she had to. You know, to sleep and stuff. Without them on, she felt like a part of her was missing. Most likely due to the strange symbiotic relationship she shared with the boots. Her strangely enchanted bangles, the ones that made her go all liquidy, were inside her bag though. She hadn’t worn or used the things since that time in Fallien. When she’d been given a simple mission that had gone all wrong.

Strange time to think about that.

Shaking the thoughts from her mind, Fae waited for what seemed like a break in the tilting, shifting onslaught and made her way gingerly to the door. She got it open just as the boat tipped precariously to the right. She stumbled out into the hall, barely staying on her feet. Gripping the wall for balance, she was quickly shoved forward by another body. No rough words of apology followed as the man--a member of the crew--went running down the hallway and towards the bow of the ship.

Faelynn went the opposite direction.

Most people, they’d hide in their room to wait and see if the end would come. Not her. She wanted up on deck so she could see her demise before it happened. That and to see if she could help in anyway. She was no sailor, but she’d been travelling for years and had picked up a thing or two. In situations like this any extra hand would help.

The boat tiled and turned and she lost her sense of self more than once, but the walls kept her up. Halfway to the portal and the wooden deck boards were already soaked and running with water. She watched the rivulets dance across the floor with each sway of the ship and felt her stomach do the same.

Keep it together…

Rain lashed down through the open portal. Thick, fat droplets impacted the drenched stairs and railing, making them slick and hard to walk up. She still managed somehow, but the moment she got out on deck she almost wished she had stayed in her room.

Wind and rain lashed her face and body, instantly plastering her hair to her head and her clothes to her skin. A fierce storm had come upon them on their way to Otaria. Even though it was the middle of the day, the sky was nearly as black as night. Thick grey clouds choked off any light from the sun and the roiling sea looked more like a writhing mass of blackness to her.

Long tendrils of that darkness slammed against the side of the ship and washed over the rails in an attempt to pull it under. Men cried out, their voices swallowed by the wind, as they held on to rope and wood and anything that would keep them from being swept overboard.

She spotted the Captain, a commanding looking fellow even though short of stature. In fact, he only had a couple inches on her and that said something. Still, older in age and with much experience, the man had probably ridden out a hundred storms like this and he commanded his crew with the ferocity of someone that wanted to see the sun again.

Keeping her stance wide to try and balance herself, she walked towards him as he barked orders over the howling wind. Men were attempting to tie down the sail to prevent it from getting damaged by the storm, but they seemed to be struggling to do so. It flapped in the gale, snapping like a snake. One of the men took a rope to the face and went down, blood flew through the air, quickly washed away by the rain. He struggled back on to his feet and from here even Fae could see blood pouring out of a broken nose.

Only a few feet away from him, the Captain spotted her. Under the sopping wet mop of grey hair, dark brown eyes narrowed on the thief and he stomped towards her, making Fae feel like a caged animal.

“Wha’ are ye doin out ‘ere, girl!?” His voice was gruff and used to commanding, easily carried to her ears even in this condition.

“I came to help.” Her voice, on the other hand, sounded unsure and unsteady.

She could just see the disbelief cloud over his face. “Ya thin’ I need the ‘elp of some whelp like you? Ge’ yer arse back under the deck now, afore a throw it down there meself!”

She opened her mouth to say something, but another wave hit the boat and a sudden cry filled the air. One of the sailors holding down the sail was swept off his feet by the thick torrent of water as it washed across the deck. He careened towards the side of the ship, barely managing to grab a hold of the rail before going over. Another member of the crew hurried over to help him before he went overboard. The rope he’d been holding down, however, lashed dangerously in the wind. Several members of the crew attempted to grab it, but the wind turned it into a whip that snaked to and fro and kept it just high enough to be out of their reach.

Seeing an opportunity to use her skills, Faelynn took it.

Eyeing the distance and gauging the force of the gale, she broke out into a sprint towards the mast below her. At the stairs she vaulted over them and landed in a roll some ten feet on the deck below. Several members of the crew yelled out in surprise by her sudden arrival. Not wasting any time, she scrambled to her feet and ran towards the mast. Four feet from the mast, she tensed her legs and sprang up off the ground. Her boots propelled her higher than any normal person should be able to jump.

At a foot away from the mast, she brought her legs up and touched her toes against the thick piece of wood and pushed off. She careened up even higher and to the left. Reaching out, she grabbed a hold of the twisting piece of rope, nearly missing it. It slammed into the side of her body though and she wrapped it around her arm as she fell back down to the ground.

Landing with a jarring thud, she quickly found several crew members grabbing a hold of the rope with her and together they tethered down the sail. No praise said and none needed, Faelynn struggled to keep up with the sailors and do anything she could to stop the ship from going under.

She meant to see the sun again.

[Reine]

The storm battered them relentlessly. Throwing everything it could at them and more so. A cry shouted over the howling winds and Fae turned just in time to see a man fall over the rail. She ran to the side, ran and fell and skidded against the rail as the boat listed once more. Her knee and shoulder slammed against the wood. Pain shot up her body, but she ignored it. Grabbing on, the thief pulled herself up and looked over the rail but saw nothing; the man’s body having already disappearing into the crushing waves. No one could save him. No one even tried. They all knew that if they fell over the side, their fate would be the same. Her brain understood, but her heart didn’t. Only a couple minutes before she had helped him lash down a canon.

None of them wanted this ocean to be their graveyard. Yet it had just become his and she knew not even his name.

Standing on shaking legs, Fae pushed her sopping wet hair back from her face. The rain still pelted her and streams of water ran down over her eyes, obscuring her vision. She mopped it off with her hands, but it only lasted for a few seconds before more water replaced it. Her clothes felt like a strange second skin as they adhered to her body.

Looking across at the other men, as they ran over the darkened ship deck, Fae felt a strange sense of detachment, that she wasn‘t here. She wasn‘t trapped in this storm, this nightmare. Then thunder rumbled through the sky and lightning tore it in half. The shock caused her to jump and kicked her back into motion. She ran towards a group of men as they lashed down one of the long boats, the rope having torn in the ferocity and power of the storm.

“Captain!”

Her head whipped around at the frenzied cry. The First Mate tripped over his feet in an attempt to get to the Captain. His clothes a disarray around his tense body. Mouth pulled down in frown and a worried look lining his youthful face.

“We’re taking on water sir, down on the cargo bay.” He said breathlessly.

Several of the men around her heard as well, their bodies stiffening and their eyes dancing from one to another. They each continued to work though. Large ships like this would only sink if it was a large leek. They could still make it…right?

“How bad?” The Captain asked.

“We’ll never make it to Otaria.”

They exchanged several other words between the two of them, but a fresh torrent of water poured over her and the men and she lost it all in the wind.

“…Raiaera will have to do.”



Two days later, Faelynn found herself standing in the port city of Beinfrost, formerly known as Anebrilith. The immense and sprawling city was beautiful and sad all at the same time to her. Large stone structures towered high into the sky. Smaller structures hid in their shade, their architecture elaborate and intricate with arches and designs that reminded her of the region of Dheathain. The people here obviously took great pride in their craftsmanship, but as beautiful as it was, it felt empty. The city itself had a small population, the port area being the most bustling spot. Even the market she walked through seemed small, the people tired and worn looking.

Stalls sold goods from across the different lands of Althanas, but few of them held any kind of merchandise from Raiaera itself. She saw crystals from Dheathain, silk and cloth from Akashima and strange mechanical items from Alerar, but none of the beautifully crafted items Raiaeran merchants were said to carry.

She’d never been here before The Corpse War and had never planned on coming here after it. The region of elves, while intriguing, had never lured her in. The people could be snobbish and egotistic. Sure they lived long lives compared to humans, but that didn’t mean they had the right to look down upon her and every other human out there.

Fae knew she was stereotyping them. Not all elves were dickweeds. She’d actually met a couple nice ones, but more often than not it seemed they loathed the human populace and treated them like scurrying ants. Now though, the beautiful city seemed to have more humans than elves in it. And the elves she did run into seemed to have lost their haughty attitude. As if losing half their realm and their grand city of Eluriand had turned the once proud nation into a shadow of it’s former glory.

Or something as dramatic as that.

According to the Captain, the repairs to The Serenity (not so serene for the last couple of nights) would take at least two weeks and she was stuck here whether she liked it or not. The thief already tried to book passage on another vessel to Otaria, but that didn‘t appear to be a popular port. Most of the ships were bound for Radasanth or Talmhaide. And in all honesty, she didn’t feel up to being back out on the sea so quickly. Stuck here, the thief may as well look around or perhaps get a job or two in.

Reine had no reputation in Raiaera, maybe it was time she made one.

[Reine]

She found no work, unsurprisingly. No one seemed that interested in hiring a thief. What was there left to steal in Raiaera? Their grand city was destroyed, many of their people had fled to other regions and the ones that remained looked like broken soldiers standing at the front of a battle long since ended. If a war like this happened in Corone, would the humans bow so easily as well? She didn’t know. The civil war had left it’s scars, but it seemed The Corpse War had done far more to Raiaera than anything she could try to understand or grasp with her limited life experience.

In the central area of Beinfrost, she came upon two monuments dedicated to the thousands of losses taken place during the war. Elf, human, Draconian…it didn’t matter. If they had lost a life and someone had remembered their name, it was there for all to see and mourn and remember their sacrifice. The first monument seemed to be for the innocents. The civilians and children. The ones that hadn’t evacuated, that couldn’t, that the soldiers hadn’t saved. They numbered in the thousands and her heart ached just thinking about it; picturing her family and their names up there. She didn’t know what she’d do if something ever happened to her mother or father, or to Ferynn.

The monument itself was a group of children playing in the street, their statues carved of the purest, whitest rock she’d ever seen. Flecks of crystal and gold shimmered in the light of the sun as it moved over it. And standing over all of them a woman, a mother, a sister, it didn’t matter who. She laughed and watched the children play their game, her eyes never leaving them, her shadow protecting them. The walls of white rock behind them had all the names printed on it. She scanned them out of respect, and said a silent prayer in her head, hoping that all those lost souls would find some form of peace after their brutal end.

To the left side in the large square lay the other monument. This honoured the soldiers and warriors, the mercenaries for hire, the healers and wizards; all those that fought. The central statues were two lone warriors, a man a woman, battling a horde of undead as they moved towards them. The black stone they’d chosen to make this with absorbed the light instead of reflecting it and she couldn’t help but feel a shiver pass up her spine as she saw the exquisite and terrifying detail they carved the images with. Fae almost expected them to move and the zombies to turn her way and start coming for her.

Behind that statue lay the black tablets and their thousands of names. It dwarfed the loss of the civilians.

As she watched, a elf approached the rows, parchment in hand. He moved to the beginning, his eyes sad as he scanned the names therein. Holding his hand up, he whispered something and ran his fingers across the smooth surface. As she watched, several other names were added to the list and then disappeared into the slate. Fascinated, she saw the names rearrange themselves into their alphabetical order, moving to make room for the new ones. Then the elf moved away, his eyes straying to her for a moment before he moved on and went back to his business.

Fae noticed other mourners at the wall as well. Tears in their eyes, on their faces, flowers being left at the base of where their loved ones name was carved. She imagined few people had the luxury to bury their dead in a war like this.

Moving to the first tablet, taller than her by over three feet, Faelynn began scanning the names. She recognized Elf, human, and Draconian. So many people.

At the third throw, her eyes stopped and her mind froze.

Nestled between the names of two elves she didn’t know, etched into the stone, lay the name of a man she hadn’t thought of in a long time.

Eric Anglekos.

No…

Her stomach twisted up into a ball and lodged itself somewhere in her throat. She ran her fingers across it, feeling the sharp edge of the carving and the indent he’d left on the stone and not believing it.

“Eric…”

When first they’d met in Fallien, she’d asked his profession. He’d said a soldier on his way to Raiaera to join the war. She’d wished him the best and hoped he’d come out of it alive. Truly hoped. Even though she hadn’t known the man for long, he’d managed to get a foothold on her heart and burrow himself in there.

Sometimes late at night, she’d find herself thinking of their brief interaction. Their meeting in The Desert Rose, and his fateful choice to follow a thief into a building, a thief that turned out to be her. Their fight and his subsequent stalking of her to get back what she’d stolen from him. Then what had happened between them when he’d finally caught her. The feel of his mouth of her body, the taste of him and how she’d given herself to him only to hear the name of his dead fiancé come out of his mouth.

That had ended their brief time together.

He’d gotten the dagger back that she’d stolen from him and she’d taken a long and very hot bath to wash away the feel of him from her skin.

Faelynn’s eyes burned and the name blurred as she stared at it; disbelieving. She choked back the emotion, blinking away the tears. It couldn’t be real. It had to be a mistake. Somewhere out there someone had gotten it wrong. He said he’d come back, said he’d make it through the war. How hadn’t he?

Faelynn rested her forehead against the cool stone as she remembered his face. The hard features of his jaw, his eyes and how cold they could be one moment and warm the next. The way his hair would fall over them, covering them, and how he’d constantly run his hands through it to shove it back. She remembered the feel of those calloused hands on her skin, the taste of him as he kissed her like his life would end in that moment if he didn’t. Most of all she remembered his smile. And the way his cheeks would colour when she flirted with him. His voice. His everything.

She choked on her own pain, fighting to hold it all in. The sound that came from her throat a strangled cry that sounded foreign even to her. Never did she think the war in Raiaera would effect her in such a way, being so far removed from the region. Never did she think it would take someone from her.

Why Eric? Why did you feel the need to come here and fight in something that had nothing to do with you? Why?

She fell to her knees, her hands splayed across the cool stone until she bunched them into fists. Her nails dug into her skin and she bit down so hard on her bottom lip she tasted blood.

I wanted to see you again…

[Reine]

Faelynn didn’t know how long she stayed there for. Other mourners came and went. They said nothing to her, gave her space, lost in their own grief. She never cried. She didn’t want to. Not because she didn’t feel pain and sadness, but because part of her still didn’t believe he was gone. How could he be? Eric was such a strong fighter. He’d carried on after his fiancé had died. He’d pushed himself back up and forced himself to live. He’d chased her through the streets of Irrakam and fought some of the worst of the worst just to find out her name and track her down. Then when he’d had her, and could have turned her over, he’d kissed her instead. Why would someone like that be taken from this world? Someone on the field had been mistaken, given the wrong name. Something, anything.

It had to be a lie.

Slowly; Fae pulled herself up from the ground. Her legs cramped, her muscles sore and protesting from sitting there for so long as she forced them straight. Feeling rather numb all over, Faelynn took one last look at the name and turned away from the monument. Her feet moved, but she had no idea where they took her. She trudged through market squares, gardens and city streets bustling with people doing their usual daily shores. She walked and walked and eventually realized she was leaving the city and heading out into the lands of Raiaera. When the thief questioned herself on her own destination, only one word entered her mind:

Eluriand.

If she went there she could find a trace, a clue, anything to signify that Eric had been there.

Checking herself, Fae detoured off to a small market to grab provisions for the journey. She needed food and a map. She knew nothing about the layout of Raiaera and how long it would take her to even get to Eluriand, not to mention what awaited her when she arrived.

When she asked the locals, they seemed unwilling to talk about it. The only information she received being that the city no longer existed.

How could a city simply be wiped clean from the map of Althanas?

Four days later, Faelynn found out how.

The grand capitol of Raiaera, the once great city known as Eluriand had suffered beyond anyone’s imagining during The Corpse War. Homes, buildings, streets, they all simply ceased to exist and lay as nothing more than blackened stone and timbre that littered the once paved streets. Here and there a wall remained. A window still holding some broken glass in it’s frame, so dirty with grime she could not even see her reflection in it.

She shuddered thinking about what that dirt may actually be.

The huge city lay in complete ruin. While she had walked away from Beinfrost, she had seen hope returning, farmers planting, villages and towns rebuilding themselves and picking themselves back up. Here, there was nothing but a scar on the land that marked how horrible and terrible war could be. That land had already started creeping back in. She could see pockets of flowers and bushes, vines and weeds beginning to climb over the rock and ground, but for the most part, even nature seemed to be holding it’s breath out of respect for all the dead, refusing intruding on this place.

The silence got to her the most.

The wind whistled through the rocks and cracks, creating a sorrow filled cry, but when it ceased nothing moved. Nothing seemed to remain. Every now and then a rock would tumble down from it’s perch and clattered until it hit the ground. The first three times her heart had leapt into her throat. Could the undead still be lingering in this place, waiting for unsuspecting people to wander in? What about the angry ghosts of all those who’d died? Haunting this place, lingering behind in confusion and anger. Faelynn didn’t want to think about it.

More than once she looked too closely at a pile of rubble and saw the tattered remains of clothing and a white bone sticking through. Once she even glanced within and saw the depths of empty eye sockets regarding her coldly. The image would haunt her dreams for a long time, she knew it.

Being cautious to respect the fact that many people had lost their lives in this place, including one very close to her if she believed that tablet, Faelynn began picking her way through the city. She climbed over rubble and boulders. She saw the remains of homes, items of a lifetime scattered and crushed and burned beyond recognition. She had no idea what she was looking for. No place to start. Now that she was here she didn’t even know what to do.

Did she expect to sift through the rubble and just find him sitting there like nothing had happened? A smile on his face, his sword in his lap as he sharpened the length of the shining metal.

She just didn’t know.

She stopped before a pile of rubble that looked like any other. Stones carved with the images of life lay scattered at her feet. The structural timbers, easily thicker than her own waist, lay broken and burned and splintered. A rusted spear jutted out from the pile.

Is this really how your life ended, Eric?

She felt the lump in her throat again, so large and consuming she could barely swallow, let alone breathe. But she did. She pushed it down and fought back the emotion, tilting her face to the too bright and blue sky above her to stop from thinking about the destruction surrounding her.

Is this really where your life ended? In this dismal place, surrounded by twisted refuse? Tell me the truth Eric. Did you see it coming before it all went black? Did it hurt? Did you cry out and think about someone you love in your last moment?

Better yet, lie to me and tell me you felt nothing. That it all just came crashing to an end. That you woke up somewhere safe and happy and surrounded by those you care about. Just tell me, I beg of you.

Nothing answered her but the wind and it's sorrow filled cry.

Turning her face back towards the ruins of the city, Faelynn once again began to walk.

It took her hours, but eventually she found herself in front of the remains of Istien University. Once the grandest school on the face of Althanas. It too had been hit hard during the fighting, but oddly enough still lay mostly intact. The walls were broken and cracked, blackened, the stained glass windows shattered, but most of the grand building and the rest of the campus had survived quite well considering the destruction surrounding it.

Why was it spared?

Why not Eric?

As the wind shifted, it brought with it the stench of burnt wood and waste and other things she didn’t want to think about. Just how many bodies lay under all this rubble? How many lost souls?

Approaching the collapsed wall that surrounded the university, Faelynn rested her hand on the cool stone and closed her eyes. She didn’t know where to go from here. She didn’t even know why she’d bothered coming. He was gone. Dead. Nothing she could do would bring him back. No amount of hoping and praying would erase his name from that tablet. She should just go back and wait for the ship to the be repaired.

Fae felt arms wrap around her. Strong and solid, they encircled her shoulders; hands resting on her chest. They held her tightly, pushed her back against a solid chest that pressed upon her back.

“Nice to see you again, stranger.” The words whispered across her ear, breath fanning her neck and causing her to shiver.

Her eyes flew open. She knew that voice. Knew those words. Those were the first words she’d ever spoken to Eric as she’d hugged him in this exact same way.

“Come on, you should join me for dinner. After all, it’s nice to spend time with a friendly face in a place like this.”

[Reine]

Faelynn spun around so fast she nearly lost her balance on the worn, cobbled stones of the ancient street.

“Eric!”

The joy on her face, the excitement in her voice all faded when she realized he wasn’t standing behind her. Yet the feel of his arms still lingered, real as the wind. His large hands, pressed against the top of her chest and his breath upon her neck. Only he would know to use those words and in just that way. It’s not like she hugged random strangers every day. He was special.

A group of Istien University students nearby gave her an odd look. Conversation flowed between them, their words too muffled for her to understand, before they all laughed and moved away from her. She didn’t care what they thought. Fae had not travelled all the way to Raiaera to make friends, she’d come here for a job. Meeting Eric here would only be a bonus. When first they’d met and talked, he had mentioned Raiaera as his next stop. The swordsman had been interested in coming here to…

Her mind blanked.

The thought fled.

What had he said? She couldn’t remember.

Odd, her memory had never failed her before. But each time she tried to reach out and grasp that train of thought, it slithered through her fingers like sand.

Somewhere in the depths of her mind warning bells began to chime.

Something didn’t feel right.

Yet, she looked about the bustling city of Eluriand and saw nothing amiss. Every day citizens chatted in the streets and went about their daily business while paying her no attention at all. Far off to her left a mother chastised her child for some slight Faelynn knew nothing about. A man hugged his love. A woman exchanged gossip with her friends. And crowds upon crowds of people walked by her going in all different directions.

Nothing appeared to be wrong.

Shrugging off the feeling, Faelynn turned back to the grand structure of Istien and smirked. She had a job to do. No point standing around all day lolly-gagging and dreaming about lost romances.

Merging with a group of students, Faelynn headed towards the main building, that housed most of the teaching rooms, the large library and a rather vast and extensive museum. The building itself practically shimmered in the light of the noon day sun. Tiny pieces of quartz and gold reflecting and dancing before her eyes. The stained glass windows, depicting the great women and men who had founded this place, trained here and triumphed, glowed in every windows. Their myriad of colours brought to life. Even the stone work looked so exquisite to her eyes. She’d only ever seen the like in Dheathain. Scenes showing people, animals, life, love, death and war.

The main factors in any life lived in Althanas. Life and love and the inevitability of war and death.

Something about that thought tickled at the edge of her awareness, but as quickly as the sensation appeared; it vanished.

Inside the halls of Istien, the clamour of voices and the resounding thud of feet on the smooth, reflective floor seemed nearly deafening. She could barely hear herself think over the cadence.

The grand entry hall had windows nearly from floor to ceiling, allowing in as much light as possible. Between the windows, tapestries hung from the walls. The heavy material rippled across the stone like water whenever someone brushed too close to it. The stitches and threads telling the stories of great moments of history for the region of Raiaera. Perhaps on another day she’d take the time to examine them. At least, that’s what she told herself, though she knew it would never happen. History had never been her favourite subject in school. She preferred to live in the present, not dwell on what happened in the past.

Slipping into the crowd, Faelynn weaved through the humans, elves, dwarves and other races of Althanas with a practiced ease, her small stature an advantage in this situation. Up a huge flight of marble steps and to the second landing, she followed the signs written in Elvish, Tradespeak and Common, directing her to the museum.

As expected, the place was crowded. More than crowded, people packed every corner of it, milling about like desert marmots. A new exhibit opened about two weeks ago, showcasing articles from the life of some great Elf dude. It brought out people from all corners of Althanas. Honestly, he must have been some crazy popular guy in his day, but she’d never heard of him. Maybe if she hadn’t failed History class she might know his name.

Apparently, never before had so many of his belonging been on display at one time. The family who owned them--some descendants or something--had kept them under lock and key, until now.

She noted two guards at the front entrance as she walked in. Same ones that had been there the last time she’d visited. Elves, they bore the armour and weapons of high ranking officers in the military. This job posting both an honour and an insult to their skill level. Inside, she noticed three more stationed throughout the room. Their bored eyes sweeping the occupants from time to time, a word exchanged here and there. They did their job, but no one could stand in one place for hours on end and keep complete focus, she knew that.

Twice, as she scanned the crowd through the glass cases, she swore she caught sight of a familiar face. The back of a head. The trail of a dark cloak. But when she looked again, she saw no trace. She did spot two plain clothed humans watching the crowd a little closer than they looked at the relics.

Playing her role, she wandered through the exhibit, staring into glass cases at pieces of armour, a dagger and an overly ornate sword given to him for some great deed or another. Honestly, she only read that crap to blend in with every one else.

Finally, Faelynn landed at the case of interest. Behind the thick glass and the multiple layers of spells and traps, lay a staff of red wood. Gnarled and old and twisted, it sat on a cloth of the finest silk, the deep black colour setting off the bright red of the walking stick--oh wait, magical item of great importance--or so the sign said. Just an old twig to her. Still, someone was willing to pay her a King’s ransom to steal it.

Guess you can’t judge a twig by it’s appearance. Or it’s bark! Haha, I crack myself up.

She lingered a couple moments longer, inspecting the pedestal and the glass case one last time. Watching the guards from the corner of her eye. Her third time here this week, she knew she couldn’t come back again lest someone remember her face. They barely glanced at her twice with so many people in the room, but she couldn’t take the chance.

Making one last circuit, Fae slipped out and left Istien. She had plans to finalize.

[Reine]

"Hey, Old Windbag."

Breezeborn looked up from the glowing red chunk of metal before him. He planned on turning it into another plate to go on the ornate hunk of crap that damn high born elf ordered and considered armour. He knew the Elvish bastard would probably only stare at the thing and it’d never see the light of day or any real kind of battle, even though he made it so well it could stop a battleaxe being welded by an Orc!

Honestly, damn Elves. Oh, yeah, they could fight and fight well, but they wanted everything to look so damned pretty all the time. If it stopped a person from dying, who gave a Thayne’s arse if it looked pretty?

"I told you not to call me that, girl. My name is Breezeborn."

He ignored her and thrust the cherry red glob into the bucket of water next to his workbench. Water hissed and screamed and bubbled as it fought to quickly cool the superheated Prevalida.

"Breezeborn, Windbag, sounds about the same to me!" She responded rather matter-of-factly, waving her hand dismissively as if his name meant nothing.

Some days he had no idea why he put up with her. Others, he couldn't help but feel a soft spot for Faelynn. She never got intimidated by him, even when he yelled at her. The dirt and dust and soot of the shop seemed to almost make her feel more comfortable than the cleanliness of the halls of Istien.

And it didn't hurt that she commissioned him; a lot.

He wiped his hands on his grey apron as he watched her jump down from her precarious perch atop one of his metal shelves. Not precarious because it couldn’t support her, he‘d made the damn thing after all, mainly because she’d been sitting over ten feet off the ground and he still couldn’t help but wince when she so effortlessly landed. He’d probably break an ankle if he ever tried something like that. He also had no idea how she got in and up there without him noticing. Just like he had no idea what she did with the strange items she requested. Didn't want to know either. He only made 'em, not his responsibility what others did with 'em after they left his shop.

"You finish that stuff I asked you for?"

Her slim form skipped and snaked through the mess of metal and bits of discarded and useless pieces of armour strewn about the floor. The knee length boots he knew she always wore kicked up a cloud of soot and dust that coated the deep red material of her pants in a grey film. She barely even noticed, or perhaps didn’t care.

He grunted. "Aye, the 'stuff' as you so offensively call my hard work, is done. GIRL!"

As he waited for Mara to show up, he eyed up Faelynn. She hadn’t changed much since the last time he’d seen her in Fallien. Still slim of form and on the shorter side, her oval face making her look slightly younger than he knew her to be. The dark hair framing that face pulled back in it’s usual tail to stream down her back. "One of these days, whatever ye do with these items, will get ye in trouble, girl."

"I know..." She replied softly.

For the first time, he saw a knowledge beyond her years flash across her bright green and gold eyes, before it quickly vanished, leaving him wondering if he’d even seen it at all.


"But don't worry," that carefree attitude quickly slipped back into place, "I've got a good feeling about this one!" He could read every emotion as it crossed her face, a bit on the naïve side, she never had learned to mask them very well.

Breezeborn kept telling himself he didn't want to know. No blood or kin to him, whatever she did, she did. Still, he didn't want to see her lose her head. And he’d had a lot of time to think about what she could be using these things for and just how many ways an Elf could take that pretty little head of hers from her shoulders before she even blinked.

When he opened his mouth to say, well, he didn't know what, his wife chose that moment to swagger into the room the room like she owned the damn thing and could take all the time in the world to enter it. After all, everyone else could wait for her. A long and green flowing dress covered her curvy form, her dark hair swept back from her face in an elegant braid.

"What is it, Breezie?" Her voice drifted in from the doorway, sounding as bored as ever. Her blue eyes scanning the room before coming to rest on their guest. The slightest spark of amusement and excitement showing in them, something only he would probably notice. "Oh, Faelynn, back for your items already? I just finished the enchantment this morning."

Breezeborn rummaged around on the shelf to the left of him and grabbed the glass cutter and lock picks he'd made, and the grappling hooks and the rope he'd procured for her. He tossed it to Fae, who nimbly caught it out of the air. Her long, thin fingers playing over the smooth surfaces of the hooks and testing the sharp edge of cutter.

"Let’s go into the back room so I can explain to you how the enchantment on the gloves work…”



“Here.”

Breezeborn grinned as Faelynn dropped the leather bag of coin into his hand, then frowned slightly as he felt the weight. He didn’t need to count it to know she’d just overpaid him.

“If you were an Elf, girl, I wouldn’t second guess this. But yer payin’ me too much.” He grumbled at her. Honest money for an honest day’s work. He’d had not worked this hard.

She merely shrugged and tucked the items into that rucksack of hers. “It’s for the inconvenience.”

He drew down his bushy brows over his dark brown eyes and glared up at her. “Of?”

“Oh, I’m sure someone will be asking some questions and it would be better for me if they never knew I was here.”

He grumbled. Lying was not in his job description. “I want none of yer bribes.”

“It’s not a bribe, it’s compensation.” She said, placing a hand on the slight curve of her hip, her green eyes glaring down at him. As if she could intimidate him.

He still didn’t like it, but Mara took the coin purse before he could protest anymore on the matter and Faelynn had already skirted the counter and begun heading towards the door, passed the racks of weapon and armour and the shelves stacked high with enchantmented bits and bobs that Mara liked to call her hard work.

"Well, I better be off. Thanks Mara, bye Old Wind Bag, see ya next time." She called back to them.

"When are you going to stop calling me Wind Bag?" Breezeborn rumbled.

"When you stop calling Mara girl." She retorted as she opened the door and held a hand up in a good bye salute, her slim form lit up by the bright mid day sun.

"Mara!" He yelled as the door closed behind her. He could hear her laughter even through the thick wood.

It was followed by a muffled. "Bye Breezie!"

He spat on the soot stained ground and went back to work.

[Reine]

The cool night air kissed the exposed skin of her legs and chest. Reaching up, Reine zipped her jacket all the way up, the high collar protecting her neck from the biting northern winds as they raced through the deserted streets of Eluriand. Goose pimples broke out on her thighs, the couple inches of bare skin where her shorts didn't quite reach down low enough and her knee length boots--The Iron Shackles--didn't come up high enough. Made in shades of black and purple, the outfit allowed her to blend in with a dark urban environment, perfect for thieving ancient pieces of treasure out of tightly secured museums in highly patrolled Universities.

With Amalia strapped to her back, in it's two foot state, and her Bag of Infinity over top, Reine felt like she could take on the world and still come back from it alive. She always felt that way before a theft. The adrenaline just beginning to trickle into her bloodstream and travelling to every part of her body. Awakening every nerve ending. Sharpening every sense.

She took a deep breath of the cool night air and smelled rain on the breeze as it washed away the scent of refuse from a city grown so large.

Looking towards the sleeping vista of Istien, nestled behind it‘s protective wall, Reine smiled and stretched out her back. She reached her hands to the glowing stars above, slowly being over taken by dark clouds, and felt muscles stretch and bones pop and shift.

Now or never.

The moment where she could still walk away. Had never done it before. Wouldn't do it this time either. Maybe she never would.

Glancing down the dark and deserted street, Reine saw no one. Bouncing from foot to foot, she drew in one final breath of air then took off. The sudden burst of speed sent her blood racing through her body, pumping loudly in her ears as she dashed across the dusty road and the looming structure beyond it. She tensed and jumped off the ground a few feet from the wall. The Iron Shackles propelled her up over five feet, at the height of her ascent, she touched off the air like it was made of solid stone and pushed herself ever higher. The thief stretched her arm out to it’s full length. Her slim fingers reaching for the ledge of the wall in front of her.

She barely made it to the top.

Her fingers just grabbed the worn stone, her body dangled as she tried to find purchase with her feet. Feeling the sweat dripping down her back, she managed to grab on with her other hand. Her meagre weight finally lifted off her one shoulder. Kicking off the wall, Reine propelled herself up and over in a fluid back flip. Coming down the other side, she hit the soft grass and rolled to soften the blow.

Puffs of misty air escaped her parted lips as she fought every urge to move and kept her muscles as still as the stone behind her. She waited. Beyond the roar in her ears, nothing stirred. No cries of alarm, no shuffling footsteps. Just the night and her.

Stage one, complete.

Using the shadows of the ancient trees, Reine made her way to the far left corner of the massive building. At night it looked creepy to her. The carved stone creatures shifted in the shadows of the moon and her night strained eyes played tricks on her; making it hard to determine whether the gargoyles, dragons and griffins were real or fake. Checking the grounds for wandering guards and seeing none, the thief reached behind her, fumbling with the strap of her bag in her excitement. Finally getting her hand inside, she thought of the grapple and rope and felt her fingers close over them.

Stepping away from the corner and the safety of the shadows, Reine tested the knot on the end of the rope for probably the hundred time and let some of the slack pass through her fingers. She spun the grapple end over end--the whirl it made through the air a somewhat comforting sound to the silence and her rapid gasps for air--then craned her neck back and looked up--way up--to gage the distance between her and the third floor balcony.

Tossing it, the thief watched it fly through the air and come right back down, hitting the ground with a solid thump.

The second fell too short as well. She watched the third go over and clang against the stone, only to catch no purchase and clamour back down. She froze, the noise loud and grating to her. She waited a full two minutes, her body as tight as a bowstring.

Nothing.

Okay girl, just take a deep breath and try again.

Remembering to breathe, Reine tossed it a fourth time. The grapple caught. Testing her weight on the rope, the thief began the long climb up. She planted her feet on the wall and used her arms to keep herself horizontal.

Hand over hand, foot over foot, she climbed. Halfway up the muscles in her arms started burning. She stopped for a rest and to quench the desert in the back of her throat. The cool water in her flask a blessing, but even resting there her arms and legs began to tire. Slipping the water back into her bag, she began to pull herself up once more. Each time she moved another foot she told herself it was one less step until the top. At the three quarter mark her arms trembled, her breathing shallow, the adrenaline the only thing keeping her going. Her hands, her fingers, felt sore and tight and were losing their grip.

Knowing she only had a couple more feet, Reine spurred herself onward. If she couldn’t make this climb the first time, there would be no second chance. Her body could only handle this once.

Looking up and finding herself less then two feet from the bottom of the stone balcony, Reine pushed herself up and reached out. Her fingers latched on to the rough stone and she sighed in relief. Pushing off the wall, she used her boots to propel her over the rail and onto the other side.

Her legs turned to pudding the moment she landed. Falling onto her back, Reine stared up at the night sky; giving her heart a moment to calm, her body a minute to recover.

That always looks so much cooler when someone else does it.

At least with The Iron Shackles she never worried about going squish if she fell.

After a minute, the rapid pounding on her heart returned to a steady and normal cadence. She pulled herself up onto shaking legs, using the ledge of the balcony to support her weight.

Easily the most complicated theft she’d ever planned, and the most daring, Reine knew that if ever caught inside these walls at night the only real mercy she could expect from the Elves would be a quick death. And that she highly doubted would be given to her.

The thought only spurred her on.

Licking her dry lips, she walked to the balcony doors and pulled out the lock picks the Old Windbag made for her.

[Reine]

Inside the university an unnatural stillness filled the air. The room she entered, a classroom, lay dark and vacant. Rows of empty benches, with hard wooden seats lay in a semi-circle around the central pit, where a board covered in writing and diagrams sat dominating the area. In the dark she could make none of it out. Not that it would mean anything to her even if she could. Her magical abilities were limited at best and for the most part only used in emergencies. Reine considered magic unreliable. Her own skills pushed her through a heist, not swirling balls of ethereal power beyond human comprehension.

The room reminded her of school and the multitude of boring lessons she'd been forced to endure throughout her adolescent years. She imagined learning magic this way would be no different, though perhaps with a more rewarding outcome. She'd never been awarded anything by learning the mathematical tables. History only taught her war sucked, but there were lots of valuable relics created during them, and recreation had just been an excuse to beat up the boys.

Stepping lightly through the room and passed the empty benches covered with their graffiti and love notes written in a language she could not understand, Reine made her way to the door. She pressed her ear to the wood, closed her eyes and willed her heart to calm. Outside she heard nothing. She had no idea how many guards to expect at night. Had planned for a maximum of ten, just in case. Even though she'd only seen a total of seven during her day trips, and two of them had been plain clothes guards in disguise, possibly private warriors hired by the family.

Easing the door open, Reine peered out into the dark hallway. The light from the half moon streamed in the windows, creating an eerie display of blue and shadows across the reflective floor and up the art lined walls. Nothing moved up here. The museum lay one floor beneath her. She knew the guards would occasionally make rounds, mostly to stay awake.

On the stone floor, her steps barely made a sound and she didn't worry about a creaking floorboard giving her away. She strode down the hallway like she owned the place, though inside her heart beat like a scared rabbit, her eyes and ears straining for any change in the natural cadence to the building.

Halfway to the staircase the sound of garbled voices reached her. She stopped and waited, but they only grew louder. Two people, the faint metallic clink of armour. Ducking into a room to her right, Reine left the door open a couple inches and hid to the left. Another classroom, just as empty as the one she’d left mere moments ago. Nerves on edge, breathing rapid and shallow, she waited. The seconds dragged on as their voices grew until she knew they were right outside the door.

She heard one keep walking, the other stop. A question in Elvish passed between them, she held her breath.

The door swung inward, blocking her view. She reached a shaking hand into one of her many pockets; fingers closing around a smooth, round metal surface, warm from the heat of her body. She strained to heard their footsteps, counted to twenty, and then carefully closed the door.

The resounding click echoed throughout the room.

They both turned to stare at her, expressions ranging from shock and disbelief to cold, hard anger. She smiled and pulled the sphere out, smashing it on the ground before they could even send out a cry of alarm.

A bright and blinding flash of intense white light spilled out into the room just as Reine shut her eyes tight. She covered her ears as the high pitched expulsion of sound followed the light show. Then counted to three and cracked one eye open.

Both elves lay on the ground, unconscious.

Well, that's two down. Unspecified number of well trained killing machines to go!

Slipping back out into the hall, Reine closed the door behind her and quickly made for the stairs. The stone and wood must have muffled any excess noise, as she didn't hear anyone rushing up to capture her or investigate that strange sounds coming from the dark and creepy hallway. Which was good, she didn’t need anyone investigating anything.

The museum lay off to the left side of the stairs, first right down the long hallway. Even from up here she could catch the occasional word that drifted up and echoed down the hall, but she could not discern the number of voices.

Taking the stairs quicker than she intended, the adrenaline high of defeating those two guards spurring her on, Reine found herself on the bottom landing, crouched down and hiding in the shadow of the banister. Keeping low to the ground, she moved down the hallway and stopped when she reached the corner.

She could see flicking light dancing off the marble floor.

Apparently the guards did not like the dark.

Pressing herself to the cool, hard surface of the stone wall and crouching down as low as she possibly could, the thief cautiously peered over the corner.

Three guards stood in front of the door to the museum. Two men, one female. The woman leaned against the door, her eyes closed. The two men knelt a couple feet away. Playing some kind of dice game and betting away their wages.

All of them were elves and all of them armed to the teeth. Armour glinted in the flickering light of two torches hung on either side of the door. Swords were sheathed on the belts of the men, and a spear rested against the wall where the female stood. She also noted one of the male guards had a long bow on the floor next to him.

No human guards?

Idly she wondered about the plain clothed men she'd seen this afternoon. Perhaps they were only there to watch the crowd during the day. Or at least that’s what she hoped.

Slipping her hand into the same jacket pocket, Reine pulled out another sphere. Taking a deep breath, she threw it down the hall.

It landed on the stone with a loud tink.

One.

The three guards all froze and looked in her direction.

Two.

She couldn't tell if they saw her or if their eyes were fixed on the bouncing and rolling ball.

Three.

It hit the ground one last time and rolled to rest two feet from their ivory dice.

Nothing happened.

Reine's heart seized in her chest, panic beginning to claw to the surface of her mind. She had another. Did she still have time to throw it before they caught her? Could she hide? Maybe escape?

The blonde haired male guard stood straight, his lithe frame easily over 6 feet tall. She froze in place, her heart jamming itself into her throat. He took a single step, bent down and grabbed the sphere. Turning his back to her, she heard some kind of loud boisterous comment, though she couldn't understand it.

The hallway filled with a blinding light. Reine cursed and slapped her hands over her ears as she closed her eyes. Damn thing was defective!

She counted to five before cautiously peeking one eye open, her own vision compromised slightly as a trail of shifting dots followed her every eye movement. Expecting all three guards to be surrounding her, she breathed a heavy sigh of relief when she spotted them slumped over on the floor.

Thank you, Mara.

Defective or not, those spheres were a combined effort of her flashbang--though slightly more potent--and Mara's enchanting skills. If it weren't for them, she couldn't imagine how she'd pull this off without bloodshed and while keeping her head firmly on her shoulders.

She searched the unconscious guards for a key. Her eyes constantly darted from her task to their faces, expecting open eyes to be watching her intently moments before a steely grip clamped down on her wrist. But they remained asleep. In the end, she found the key on a chain around the woman’s neck. Unlocking the door to the museum, Reine slipped inside.

[Reine]

The silence in the room was a palpable, living thing. She'd only seen it during the day, with dozens of people milling around each display case, their voices a cacophony of sound. Now, nothing stirred. No guards, no sightseers, just her and the deep shadows and pools of blue moon light as they streamed in through the back windows.

She wove her way across the room. Dodging the other displays and ignoring their little plaques that called out for her attention. She practically skipped with excitement and zeal, her whole body thrumming with adrenaline and the high of the theft. In what could only be considered the middle of the room lay two display cases, one of which contained some sword she didn‘t really care about and barely glanced at. But the other, it held her prize, that red staff. It practically called out to her, begging to be lifted from it’s cold prison. The glass glinted in the light and she could see her dark reflection in the now mirror like case. Her hair tied back from her face in a long braid against her back. The bridge if her nose and up covered in thick theatrical make-up designed to look like two black and purple wings spreading across her eyes. A bit childish, but it worked in protecting her identity and she looked hot while thieving.

Peering passed her reflection, Reine carefully examined the item. It looked exactly the same as the one she’d inspected this morning. Not a single crease on the satin bed it lay upon had moved. Each knot in the deep dark red wood--now a strange purple colour by night--remained the same. Every twist and curve. Nothing had changed.

Reaching into another pocket on her jacket, Reine pulled out a regular looking pair of black leather gloves. She slipped them on and the world around her dramatically changed.

The darkness now replaced with bright strands of light that interwove around the display cases. Blue and green, yellow and red. She could see the intricate dance of magic as it lay like a tangled and tangible web over everything in the room. Even the floor was marked by blue strands. Idly she wondered if her progress had somehow been tracked, but knew it was too late to turn back now.

Looking closer she could see intricate patterns in the strands of power. Loops and whirls and knots telling the story of how they were lain to her. Each one beautiful and mesmerizing in it’s own way. Only she didn't have the knowledge to understand it all. She knew she needed to untangle the ropes and gently release the power, or risk triggering the spell. She also knew the different colours meant different kinds of spells and traps. It seemed safe to assume the blue and green were types of protective spells and the yellow and red attacking spells.

Taking a deep breath to steady her hands and her nerves, Reine did the one thing she did really well. She dove head first without thinking it through and grabbed on to the first yellow strand of power she could.

Pain lanced up her arms. She gritted her teeth but couldn't stop the small cry that escaped her throat. Tears blurred her vision and she quickly blinked them away. It felt like lightning dancing along every nerve in her body. And surprisingly she knew exactly what that felt like, damn Connaire and his messed up enchantments.

Taking a firm hold on the line, she began moving it and twisting it around, one knot at a time. Each time she moved one thread over another the power in the spell dissipated. She felt it run through her body and escape into the ground through her feet. The pain turned into a constant backdrop, pulling on her reserves of energy. By the time she finished disassembling the yellow spell, her breathing was ragged and a sheen of sweat covered her forehead, more soaking into her jacket along her back.

Without pausing, Reine began attacking away at the red thread, knowing she only had a limited time before the guards woke up. When she placed her leather clad hands upon that power, more pain ripped through her body; intense and unyielding. She sucked breath in through gritted teeth and holding the thicker cord with her left hand, she began using her right to move the thinner strand around.

The sharp tip of something jabbed into her back. Gasping in surprise, Reine froze as a familiar voice echoed throughout the room.

"Move and I kill you. Breathe the wrong way and you die. Now, very slowly bring your hands up and step away from the case."

[Reine]

Her heart began to beat like an untrained drum in her chest, a nervous flutter spreading throughout her stomach as her mind blanked. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but nothing came out.

The sharp tip dug into her back more and she cringed, arching her back to try and get away from the cold metal, her body already wracked with pain from holding the power lines of the spell.

"I said slowly raise your hands and step away."

She swore she felt the point of his weapon break through her skin and she drew in a sharp breath between clenched teeth.

"I'm afraid I can't." Her voice sounded strained and tired even to her.

The point of his sword dug in more and she couldn't help but the whimper that escaped her lips. As she moved the power from the lines lashed against her body. Turning her head as far to the side as she could, Reine looked at the man standing behind her. The familiar worn, black cloak. The armour covered hands and feet with their damn noise cancelling enchantment--now a bright green tangle she could visibly see--and the messy hair covering a handsome, but stern face.

"Considering what happened the last time you threatened to kill me, I would greatly appreciate it if you lowered the sword, Eric."

She could see the shock on his face even through the haze of pain. His eyes widening, his mouth hanging open ever so slightly as he searched her face in the dark, trying to find the trick in it somewhere. She couldn't believe this was happening herself. Practically the same scenario as last time, only now Eric knew the identity of the thief Reine and he could very easily track her down and turn her over to the authorities.

"Faelynn!?"

Her name echoed throughout the room and she cringed.

"I prefer you call me Reine while I'm dressed like this." She looked pointedly from him to the sword still digging into her back. "And if you wouldn't mind, I wasn't kidding when I said I can't move right now. Not unless you want me to trigger this spell and potentially kill us both."

He hesitated, but obliged and moved his weapon to his side, though she noted he did not sheath it.

She breathed a sigh of relief and turned back to the spell. She couldn't allow his presence to disrupt her. She hadn't been kidding when she said this spell could potentially kill them. Judging by how angry and red it looked and how much it attacked her, whoever made this meant business.

Wrapping her fingers around a different line, Reine carefully eased it away from the display case, before twisting it around the line she held in her left hand. With a sigh, she felt that knot release and a little of the spells strength dissipate.

Eric appeared in her peripheral vision. "What are you doing here?"

She glared at him, even while knowing he probably couldn't see it in the dark and with the theatrical display of painted wings covering her upper face.

"I'm sure if you think about it real hard you'll come up with an answer." The words clipped as she struggled with the next knot. "The better question being, why are you here?"

Her hands turned, the lines writhing like a trapped snake. Her whole body went stiff and she sucked in air through clenched teeth. She noted Eric take a step towards her before checking himself. He still cared about her, perhaps she could use that to her advantage when she needed to escape.

"Hired by the family, drew the nightshift straw tonight..." He paused, brows drawn down in concern as he watched her. "I found three of the guards outside, what about the other two?"

"Upstairs." She gasped and released another knot. "Unconscious in one of the classrooms."

"How did you...?"

Reine somehow managed a strained chuckle. "Can't give away all my secrets."

His face went hard, as if remembering what he should be doing right now and what she was doing.

"You know I can't let you leave with that."

She grunted and wondered if he'd let her leave at all. "Going to turn me over so they can take my head? It'll save you the trouble of almost killing me again."

His face paled in the moonlight. "By the Thayne, damnit! I didn't!" She could see the torment still in his eyes from that moment when his dagger had plunged into her chest and should have killed her. She'd been hired by the Cult of Mitra to place some bead on a kite for some reason she'd rather not know. Eric had witnessed a thief breaking into the warehouse and gone in to apprehend him, only he hadn't known the thief was actually her. In the ensuing fight, he'd accidentally stabbed her with his dagger, only she'd lived because of an errant enchantment on the bracelets Connaire and her brother Ferynn had made for her. She'd given Connaire a not so sisterly kiss for that one. Ferynn, he’d received a hug.

Eric took a deep breath and she watched him try to calm himself. "It was an accident. I swear. I still..." He trailed off and looked away, running his hand through his already tousled hair. Hair that she knew felt like silk in her hands and tickled between her thighs.
Reine didn't bother informing him on how she'd lived. Let him torture himself over it a bit longer.

"Fae--" She glared at him and he caught himself. "Reine, I honestly...would never have..."

She released the last knot of the spell and the energy from it flooded out into the room. Exhausted, her muscles practically vibrating they shook so badly, Reine collapsed against the display case. Barely able to stay standing. Eric ran to her side in an instant, supporting her. His sword discarded, it clanged against the stone floor as his arms wrapped around her and he held her tightly against his him.

"Why do you do this to yourself?" He whispered.

She leaned against him, enjoying the feel of his strong chest against her back. "Because I'm good at it."

[Reine]

If she closed her eyes, she forgot all about where she stood and what she should be doing. She forgot about the stupid staff of great magical and historical importance. She forgot about the guards who could be waking up in only a few more minutes and she forgot about how she'd given herself to Eric before only to have him call her by the name of his dead fiancé. Never before had she let a man touch her the way he had. She couldn't help but remember the feel of his hands on her body, the rough calluses and scars as they slid across her stomach and her ribs, as his hands cupped her breasts. His mouth and the soft light kisses, the way his teeth grazed against her inner thigh before he parted her most private area and teased and tortured her with his tongue until she practically begged him to stop.

Even now she still wanted him.

"Eric..." His name sounded like a whispered plea and his hands tightened on her shoulders.

Feeling more in control of her own body, Reine slowly and reluctantly pulled away from Eric. As she moved to step away though, his hand wrapped around her upper arm like a vice. She spun, poised to strike at him but he merely deflected her feeble punch and grabbed her wrist. In two steps he crowded her back against the glass display case. She gasped as the corner dug into her back and forced her to bend a bit. His face only a few inches from hers. His eyes searching hers for something, his breathing shallow.

"Faelynn...I..." His voice sounded strained.

He leaned his forehead against hers, eyes closed and she breathed in that familiar smell. Old leather, sweat, smoke and something indefinably him.

The vice grip on her hand and arm loosened. Reine pulled free and ran her hands up his arms, feeling each muscle bunch under the leather and cloth as she touched them. Annoyed at the material between them, she ripped her gloves off and sighed as she felt his hot skin under her cool touch. Her fingers dancing up the contours of his arms, across his shoulders until cupping his face.

He opened his eyes, shadowed and haunted and looking as if merely being in her presence tormented and enthralled him. She pulled his face down and gently brushed her lips across his, teasing him. The groan that escaped his throat sounded more animal than human and he crushed his mouth against hers in a bruising kiss. Reine gasped and parted her lips and his tongue invaded her, taking and not giving anything in return.

Fingers twining in his hair, Reine arched her back and pressed herself against him. Eric responded by forcing his thigh between her legs, spreading them apart and pushing against her.

Frustrated, she ground her hips against him trying to hit that perfect spot but the clothing between them prevented it. His hands encircled her slim waist and he broke the kiss, lifting her up onto the display case. Grabbing a fistful of her hair, he pulled and forced her head back. Exposing her neck and throat to his lips and teeth. She whimpered and moaned and reached for his shirt. When her cool fingers brushed the hot skin of his stomach he sucked in air sharply between clenched teeth and bit down hard at the base of her neck.

She cried out at the intense mix of pleasure and pain.

As she slid her fingers up his stomach and across his chest, the sound of muffled voices reached her ears. Her subconscious tickled her and a twisted feeling settled into the pit of her stomach.

Realization dawned on her. Tensing, Reine shoved a booted foot against Eric's stomach and pushed him away from her just as the doors to the museum crashed open. She tumbled backwards, taking the display case down with her in the process.

It hit the ground and shattered.

Glass shards littered her body, slicing through the fabric of her jacket and shorts. The staff she came here for lay just inches away from her. She reached for it and an arrow whistled through the air. Rolling to the side. Reine felt the fletching and shaft whiz across her shoulder, narrowly missing her body.

"Reine!"

Eric had regained his composure as well. Scrambling across the museum floor to grab his discarded sword. She knew not whether he planned to help or hinder. Attraction aside, the man still hated thieves.

Ignoring him, Reine looked towards the entrance and watched as the two guards sprinted towards her.

She'd never stand a chance.

Grabbing the hilt of Amalia, she pulled the spear from it's sheath and spun it around, releasing it to it's full five foot length. Scrambling into a standing position, Reine took off towards the large towering windows and the freedom beyond them. Hefting the spear up to shoulder height, she hurled it through the air as hard as she could.

The sharp tip broke through the glass and continued out into the yard. A spider web of cracks formed around the roughly foot sized hole.

Running full out, Reine tensed her legs and leapt towards the window, wrapping her arms around her face.

Her shoulder slammed into the glass first and she heard an ear piercing screech as the rest of the pane shattered all around her. She tumbled out into the cool night air as a hundred glittering pieces of sharp, crystallized sand danced around her.

Plummeting to the ground, Reine used The Iron Shackles to slow her descent. Three feet from the looming and solid earth, she pushed off the air as if it were made of stone. Landing in a crouch, the thief snatched up Amalia and took off towards the towering wall that protected the University. Behind her, she heard someone cry her name and could only assume Eric gave pursuit.

Give them a good show, Eric, then they won't hang you for thinking you’re a traitor.

Using the spear and her boots, Reine vaulted over the tall structure and took off into the dark and deserted streets of Eluriand.

[Reine]

Each street looked the same. Each alley just another dark place for her to hide in. Blinded by her adrenaline and fear, Reine snaked through the city of Eluriand until even she had no idea where she stood. She ran until her heart felt like it would burst out of her chest and her lungs screamed for air. Until her feet ached and the muscles in her legs screamed in protest.*

A pinch formed in her side, making it even harder to breathe And slowly she became more and more aware of a growing pain in her shoulder.*

Finally, when she felt ready to collapse, she stopped. Her chest heaving, arms supporting her against the cool stone wall of some narrow alley. Pulling in much needed oxygen in fits and gasps, Reine looked over at her right shoulder and noticed a chunk of glass protruding from it. With a shaking hand she reached out and touched it.*

Pain exploded down her arm. Her vision blacked and she felt the world shift. Letting go, she leaned back against the sturdiness of the wall and assessed the damage.*

The material of her jacket was plastered to her shoulder and arm, blood dripped off the tips of her fingers. When she moved the torn cotton aside she cringed at the lacerated mess her shoulder had become. Taking a deep breath, Reine bit down on her bottom lip, wrapped her fingers around the jagged shard and ripped it out.*

She screamed.*

Then doubled over and threw up the contents of her stomach.* The thick piece of glass fell from her fingers and hit the cobbled street, breaking even more.

Fresh rivulets of blood washed down her arm. Just watching the constant trickle made her nauseous and light headed. Somehow, she needed to get back to her safe house before anyone spotted her. She silently cursed Eric and her bad luck. If he hadn't been there, she would have made it out with that damn staff and wouldn't be hiding in some alley puking up her dinner.*

"Faelynn!"*

Reine's head whipped to the side. A dark and all too familiar looking shadow eclipsed the mouth of the alley.

She cursed, rather colourfully.*

The man did not know when to give up.*

Pushing away from the wall, she made to run but only managed three steps before the world swam. Darkness invaded her vision from the corner of her eyes and spread inward; she had the sudden sensation of falling. She forced it back and fought to stay conscious. When her vision cleared she found herself staring at the ground, just a foot away from her nose.* A stream of refuse that smelled of things she’d rather not think about flowed passed.

Strong arms held her by the shoulder and waist.*The feeling was almost comforting. Almost.

A curse echoed off the stones. "You're bleeding badly..."*

She tried to push away from Eric, but the man had an iron grip. "I'm fine." She mumbled.*

"We need to work on your definition of fine." He growled and hoisted her up, placing her back on her feet. He kept one hand on her waist, as if worried she'd topple over like a rag doll. The other he absently ran through his messy hair. She saw it leave a trail of blood, tainted black by the moonlight, on his forehead.*

He didn't appear to notice, or care.

Idly she wondered when he'd pull out the sword and hand her over to the Elves. She knew she couldn't outrun him at this point.*

"I know someone that lives near here." That was a plus, she didn't even know where 'here' currently was. "We can hide at his place until this blows over."*

He tried to pull her back towards the mouth of the alley.*

She hesitated.*

Her boots dug into the stone and all one hundred and seventeen pounds of her refused to move. Eric stopped and looked back at the hard expression on her face.*

"Faelynn..." He cupped her face and stared deep into her eyes, willing her to see something in the depths of his. "Trust me."*

For some stupid reason she actually did.*

She nodded and he kissed her, before quickly pulling away and leading her out into the open streets of Eluriand.*

If her gut had it wrong this time, it would cost her, her head.*

[Reine]

The sound of Eric hammering on a wooden door roused her. She didn't realize she'd even drifted off, but she must have. She was slumped against his shoulder and side, his one arm tightly around her waist, the only thing holding her up, as he smashed the other against the offensive wooden barricade.

It looked familiar to her, but she couldn't seem to focus on it long enough to find out why. Her eyes kept drifting closed, mind wandering into strange blank areas.

Finally, she heard movement on the other side, metal rattling and a rough and familiar voice cursing rather proficiently in a couple languages she knew and several she did not. Then the door swung open.

On the other side stood a dwarf. Hair a ratty mess about his head, stubble on his cheeks and chin and some very annoyed and angry looking brown eyes focused directly on the two of them. He held a lantern up high, trying to cut through the darkness of the night.

"What in the name of--Eric?"

"I don't have time to explain, but I need to use your spare room." He said urgently.

Lifting her head off his shoulder slightly, Reine smiled down at the dwarf.

"Hey, Old Wind Bag..."

His eyes went round as he took in her appearance. The ripped and torn clothes, messy hair and make-up and finally the blood caked arm. The wound no longer bled, but her whole arm looked like some kind of battlefield.

"Faelynn!?" He almost looked shocked when he saw her, then his beardless face hardened and she couldn't read or fathom what he thought. For some reason, it hurt to see that look on his face. A pain just tore through her heart and she wished she wasn’t standing here. The thief would rather tackle those guards back at the museum than the disappointment Breezeborn showed in his eyes.

"Yeah, not my idea, but sorry nonetheless." She mumbled.

Grumbling, Breezeborn reluctantly let them inside. Faelynn realized they were in the back room of his shop, surrounded by shelves and shelves of raw material and metal, and extra pieces of equipment. Eric must have gone to the backdoor to try and attract less attention. She only hoped it worked. The last thing she wanted was to cause any problems for the dwarf. As rough as he was around the edges, he had a good heart.

"Follow me." He barked.

Eric helped support her as they followed the Old Wind Bag out of the storage room, through his dark and deserted shop and up a flight of stairs leading into what she assumed to be the living area. Respectful of his privacy, she'd never been up here before.

At the end of the hall, Breezeborn threw open a door and ushered them in. He left the lantern on the bedside table, a layer of dust covering the wooden structure and speaking volumes about the room’s use. It smelled musty, like it hadn't been opened in a while. But it had a bed and would keep them safe. That's all she needed.

"You can use this room. Be gone in the morning." He spat at them before leaving.

Eric gently eased her onto the bed and she chuckled at the way he treated her, like fragile glass.

"I just need to patch your wound, then you can rest."

She could see the growing panic on his face as he looked about the room, for what she had no idea. Coming to some sort of conclusion she watched through a sleepy haze as he threw off his cloak and removed the greaves, freeing up his hands.

"Okay, okay..."

He grabbed the jagged ends of her jacket where the glass had pierced through and pulled on them. She could feel the crust of dry blood tugging at her skin. When he got too close to the wound, she sucked in air between clenched teeth as a shock of pain raced down her arm.

"Definitely awake now." She hissed.

Eric opened his mouth, but whatever he said got cut off as the door to the room opened and Breezeborn walked in carrying an overloaded tray.

"'Ere!" He thrust it at Eric. Faelynn could see a tea pot, a cup, fresh linens, water and a jar of something she'd rather not know the contents of. "Mara said to make her drink the tea, all of it, and use the rest to bandage her up. She'll be down in the morning to check on her."

And just as quickly as he entered, the dwarf turned and left the two of them.

"I thought..." Eric stared at the closed door, a confused look on his face.

"That he wanted us gone in the morning? Probably still does, but Mara knows all his weak points." Fae said as she unzipped her jacket. She got the one side off fine, but as she tried to move her injured arm and pull the sleeve down over her shoulder, little shocks of pain kept racing across her nerves. "Help me out of this thing, will you? There's no way you can patch me up with it on and it feels gross. The blood is just sticking to me."

In the end, he had to cut the rest of the sleeve off her using the same knife she’d stolen and then angrily threw at him when he’d called her his fiance‘s name. It seemed like forever ago now.

As he washed the blood from her, she drank the concoction that Mara. Fae couldn’t bring herself to call it tea. It tasted disgusting, smelled horrible and looked like swamp water, so she could only assume it must be really freaking good for her. Either that or Mara was angry her sleep had been disturbed and wanted some revenge.

“That was suicide, what you did back at the museum.” Eric stated as he wiped the last of the blood from her arm.

With the wound clean, she could see the extent of the damage. There were several small lacerations along her arm, she counted a few more on various parts of her body as she’d taken the jacket off, but the big one on her shoulder looked ragged and angry. The cut was deep, perhaps right to the bone. She couldn’t honestly be sure. It would leave a nice scar, yet another to add to the many already covering her. She noticed Eric’s eyes wandering to a few of them. The worst ones being on her back.

“You mean jumping out of the window, or going there in the first place?” She asked, drwing his attention away from the scars that covered her and all their different stories.

“Both.”

He grabbed the jar of stuff from the tray and using a spoon scooped out a generous helping of it. When he placed it on the wound, she grit her teeth and tried her best to keep her face neutral, but she could feel it burning and stinging like a thousand fire ants from Fallien were biting her.

“What if it had been one of the other guards who caught you and not me?”

“I had a couple back-up plans in case something like that happened.” She said off-handedly. The fire ants appeared to be calming down, allowing her to breathe once again.

He snatched up a piece of the cloth and Fae could tell he was angry by his quick and jerky movements. But he still carefully and gently wrapped her shoulder.

“I‘m serious, Faelynn. You could have been killed tonight!”

“I could be killed every time I leave my house. Besides I can’t imagine why you’d care…”

He tightened the knot on her arm and grabbed her good shoulder, forcing her to turn and face him.

“You can’t imagine!? Of course I care! If I didn’t care I wouldn’t have risked my life to come after you, I would have left you in the alleyway to bleed to death or be found and hanged. I wouldn’t have…”

She could feel the tension in his body, it practically radiated off him. “You wouldn’t have what?”

[Reine]

She needed to know.

If he cared about her, if what she’d felt for him in Fallien had been real and if he felt the same, she needed to know it all. All he had to do was tell her, but she could still see him hesitating. Did the memory of his dead fiancé haunt him still? Was Amalia the only woman in his thoughts even now? Could there possibly be no room for her at all?

His fingers tightened on her good shoulder, digging into the flesh and the muscle and she could see a dozen emotions play out across his face and dance in the depths of his startlingly blue eyes. She wished she could decipher them. She wished she had a direct link into his mind so she could understand his thoughts and feelings and know where to go.

Eric raised a scared hand and gently ran it down the side of her face. Following the contours of her brow, her temple and cheek bone and finally to her jaw. His touch so feathery light she felt a shiver course down her spine.

"If I didn't care about you, I wouldn't have kissed you back at the museum." He brushed his thumb across her lips. "I wouldn't have kissed you in Fallien."

He looked from her mouth to her eyes, asking her some silent question. As if saying 'was this all right?' And she didn't know.

"But in Fallien you..."

He closed his eyes and drew in a ragged breath. "I know, I..." He looked away. "I wasn't ready then. You were the first woman to show an interest in me since Amalia and I found myself torn."

"And now?" She was scared to hear the answer to it. A nervous flutter settled in her stomach. What if he said he wasn't ready again?

What if he was?

Faelynn placed her hand on the side of his face, feeling the beginning of rough stubble forming on his cheeks and prickling her skin. With a gentle push, she turned his head and forced him to look at her.

"Now..." He leaned in closer to her. "Now, I know I'm ready. If...you'll still have me."

She wanted him so much it scared her. Here she got her second chance to finish what started between them in Fallien and suddenly she felt so nervous she didn't know what to do. He'd taken the choice from her last time, when he'd so roughly pinned her to the bed with his own body. And just thinking about it, she felt that nervous tickle turn into something else and travel to that most intimate area between her thighs. Now, he gave her the option to walk away, but she didn't want to.

Not knowing the right words to say, Faelynn leaned forward and kissed him. Just the simple act of pressing her lips to his and she felt all that tension leave his body. Before she even realized what was happening, she found herself lying back on the bed, her fingers buried in the messy tangle of his hair. His body pressed down against her, a comfortable weight touching every inch of her he possibly could at one time.

When she shifted and wrapped her legs around his hips, she felt him, already hard, pressing into the centre of her body where she wanted him the most.

Arching her body, Faelynn ground herself against him. enjoying the feel of his length between rubbing up against her even through the layers of clothing.

Eric broke off the kiss and groaned, burying his face against the base of her neck. He thrust his hips against hers as he scraped his teeth across her collar bone.

"E-Eric! Please..." The words sounded so much like a plea she barely recognized her own voice.

He trailed light kisses up her neck before whispering in her ear. "No, I plan on enjoying this for as long as I can."

He held her hips down with his own, grinding himself against her, torturing her. She wanted to feel him inside her. Frustrated, she grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it up over his head, revealing the board expanse of his chest and stomach. Faelynn ran the tips of her fingers across all that muscle, enjoying the dips and curves and following the valleys they created every downward. Grabbing the hem of his pants, she eagerly worked the fastenings open and slid her hand inside, her slim fingers wrapping around the hard length of him.

He sucked in air between clenched teeth. "Fae..."

She explored the full length of him, sliding her fingers along the smooth skin. He groaned and kissed her, forcing his tongue into her mouth as he thrust himself into her hand. Her fingers tightening around him. She matched his rhythm, stroking the length of him.

Growling, he broke off the kiss and reached down. Wrapping his fingers around her wrist, he extricated her hand from his pants and pinned it above her head.

"Hey!"

Smirking, she struggled rather feebly against him as he pinned her other one above her, his one large hand easily encompassing both her wrists.

"Haha, Eric. Let me go."

The devilish smile that spread across his face made her stomach do another summersault.

"I said I wanted this to last as long as possible."

She bucked beneath him, squirming and trying in vain to free herself. He merely laughed, his bright blue eyes turning a darker shade, like that of the ocean. His breathing growing more ragged with each attempt she made.

With his free hand, he circled her small waist, fingers splayed across the smooth skin of her stomach and sliding up under her thin undershirt. Higher still he explored. Across her ribcage until finally his large hand closed over her left breast.

She moaned and arched her back as he teased her nipple. His fingers flicking across the sensitive peak, causing goose bumps to break out over her skin. But it wasn't enough, she wanted more. Faelynn twisted her hands and wrists in an effort to free them. She could feel her frustration building. All she wanted was to feel his skin under her hands, to kiss him and taste him, Eric pinched her nipple in retaliation.

"P-please let me go..."

He laughed and grabbed the hem of her shirt, pulling it up over her head and twisting it around her hands and wrists. Then he looped it around the bed post in a tight knot.

"No." He whispered the word in her ear, his breath tickling the side of her neck and she shivered.

Faelynn pulled and yanked on the bonds, but the shirt didn't so much as give.

"Eric, seriously--" The rest of her sentence was cut off in a sudden cry as Eric bit down on her nipple.

He rolled and teased the other between his thumb and fore finger and she bucked and squirmed beneath the heavy press of his body. When he let them go, she collapsed back to the bed; panting, as she felt the light trail of his lips travel down her stomach. The press of his body eased slightly off hers and she felt his fingers unbuckle her shorts; his warm and abrasive touch running down the sensitive skin of her thighs as he slid the material down her body.

Nudging her legs farther apart, Eric spread her open with his fingers. Before she could even open her mouth to protest his mouth was on her. She cried out at the suddenly intensity of his tongue lapping at her clit. She ground her hips against his face and he only increased the tempo, quickly bringing her to the edge. Faelynn writhed and moaned in ecstasy, feeling every nerve in her body come alive and every muscle become as tight as a bow string. All she wanted was that final release. Her back arched up sharply as she finally felt that string snap, his name torn from her mouth as she came, her whole body shuddering.

He didn't stop. Twice more he made her cum with his tongue until she begged for mercy. With hurried and jerky movements he stripped out of his belt and pants, tossing the weapons and garment aside. Crawling up the length of her body, Eric kissed her. He devoured her whimpers and moans, his tongue thrusting in and out of her mouth in a blatant mimicry of sex as he slid himself all the way inside her.

She whimpered as he filled her, spreading her open slowly as he slid himself in to the hilt and finally sated that ache inside her. But it wasn’t enough. She wanted more. She wanted him to move.

She thrust her hips up hard against him and he gasped, breaking off the kiss. Biting hard on his neck, she ground her hips against his body before pulling back and doing it all over again. After the third time, she finally got what she wanted. He pulled back and forced himself in her fast and hard, and she lost herself in it. Feeling only him and that building and mounting peak.

At some point, she hands became free and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, clinging to him. Nails scraping his back, digging into to flesh as he fucked her.

She came, her whole body quivering from the intensity, and he rode it out. He pounded into her a few more times and joined her, his body stiffening, his teeth grazing her neck as he climaxed inside of her, her name a whispered plea she barely heard.

Listening to his shallow breathing, Faelynn leaned forward and kissed him lightly. His arms wrapped around her and the world did a quick turn; leaving her sprawled across his torso. Laughing, she nuzzled and breathed in the heady smell of him before closing her eyes, feeling so much more then content.

[Reine]

I went to bed I was thinking about you
And how it felt when I finally found you
It's like a movie playing over in my head
Don't wanna look cause I know how it ends
All the words that I said that I would't say
All the promises I made that I wouldn't break
It's last call, last song, last dance
'Cause I can't get you back, can't get a second chance

And now, I guess
This is as good as it gets

Don't wake me, 'cause I don't wanna leave this dream
Don't wake me, 'cause I never seem to stay asleep enough
When it's you I'm dreaming of, I don't wanna wake up
Don't wake me, we're together just you and me
Don't wake me, 'cause we're happy like we used to be
I know! I've gotta let you go!
But I don't wanna be alone

Skillet - Don't Wake me (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TDafY03vyTY)


Sleep dragged at her mind. Like a heavy blanket it covered her, making it hard to move her body, hard to think; to do anything. With his arms around her shoulder and back and feeling him still inside of her, Fae felt safe and secure and wished this feeling and moment to never end.

All good things seemed destined to end though.

She felt him shift beneath her, kiss the top of her head and breath her in. His chest rising as his hands tightened on her shoulders ever so subtly.

"I wish we could stay like this forever," Fae stiffened, a lance of fear running through her, "but I can't. My time is up..."

She opened her eyes and tried to move, but her body didn't respond. She wanted to hold on to him as tightly as possible so he couldn't leave, but her hands didn't move.

When she tried to speak, no sound came out.

Wait!

That heavy feeling spread and became a darkness. She felt it encompassing her. It wasn’t scary, but it wasn’t entirely comforting either. Eric was comforting, he was everything she wanted right now. Everything she needed.

Please don’t leave me!

Her vision began to fade next. Black formed at the edges and slowly began to spread inward until she could see nothing but his chest and his jaw as it moved up and down as he continued to talk while she found herself unable to say anything.

"I'm glad I was able to give you this; a second chance." He drew in one ragged breath. "I could have loved you."

Then everything went black.



Warmth.

She noticed the warmth first. Like a gentle caress it covered her body. Yet the more she became aware, the more she felt it slip away, leached by a cool wind that ruffled her hair and tickled her face. The feeling of the hard ground under her back became the second sensation. She felt the dirt and stones and even a sizable rock digging into her spine.

Shifting, she opened her eyes on the bright Raiaeran sun.

A person stood over her. His body an unmistakable shape she would recognize anywhere, even silhouetted by the sun.

"Eric...?"

The figure leaned down and kissed her gently on the forehead, but she barely felt it. Just the faintest of touches.

As he straightened, she felt something heavy and solid in her left hand, outstretched away from her body. She blinked, trying to work her way through her muddled brain and focus her thoughts and her eyes. He looked so insubstantial standing over her. Like nothing more than a shadow. Just as she thought this, Fae watched as he faded away and became nothing more than the hard shadow of a crumbling wall; leaving her to wonder if he'd ever been there at all.

Wrapping her fingers around the object, Fae pulled it towards her and looked down at the leather belt and the two pommels sticking out from it. She didn't need to unsheathe the weapons to know what lay in her hand. His twin daggers, one of which she had once stolen from him in Fallien.

"Couldn't have left me the noise cancelling armour, huh?"

The wind whispered across her and she swore she heard his laughter in it.

She smiled and laughed and hugged the belt to her chest feeling that last dam break.

"I could have loved you too."

Curling into a tight ball, she cried. Hot tears streaming down her dirty and dust covered cheeks, leaving trails of clean, wet skin in their wake. Sobs wracked her body and clutched at the gift he'd given her like it was him, like if she let it go, she'd lose him forever.

But she knew the truth now. She already had.





Spoils: Faelynn receives the twin Prevalida daggers Styxx and Acheron that Lord A received from completing this quest (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?18574-Agrigon).

[Otto]

Remember the Fallen


Plot: 21/30


Storytelling: 8/10
The story aspect was well-structured, progressed logically, and thus maintained credibility and a very natural flow. Moreover, the build-up was wonderfully drawn out over most of the thread, with a terribly bittersweet conclusion. Here you have a story that has very little impact (or none at all) on other people's PCs or the regions concerned, but you made it feel relevant to the reader.

In all honesty, I'm not entirely certain how to improve this aspect, but I'll give it a shot. What comes most to mind is a certain small amount of disjointedness between Faelynn's lingering feelings in this thread, and allusions to the conclusion of their previous encounter. It sounds like she was left extremely hurt by it, so expanding on why she still feels so driven to hunt him down in Eluriand may have been warranted.



Setting: 6/10
You did a good job of going beyond the physical appearances of places, and captured other critical elements as well - the fury of the storm, the dejected air of post-war Raiaera, and the peaceful desolation of Eluriand. Good work there.

Some places, however, weren't done so well. The museum and university in particular weren't very well established, given how relevant the area was. The same could be said of the alley Faelynn reaches afterwards, though you can get away with that, given its brief part in the story.

Finally, just a point about the ship - most items would already be fixed down, particularly the furniture.



Pacing: 7/10
As mentioned, you maintained a good flow, and seesawed between action and build-up enough to keep things varied and interesting, without causing motion sickness.

There were two points in the story which were quite jarring when it came to pacing: first, the transition from the storm to Beinfrost, and from there to Eluriand. I would suggest bridging these gaps with even just one small paragraph, explaining how the ship drifted listlessly into the harbour, or the graduation in scenery from Beinfrost to Eluriand. As it is, it feels like the story is missing something at these points.



Character: 22/30


Communication: 7/10
Faelynn came off bit flat and forced during her first sequence with Breezeborn, and it wasn't really until the second half of the thread that you got into the swing of her dialogue . The other characters were done quite well, though, and I think you managed to nail Richard's sense of awkwardness in their reunion at the museum (which reflects his butterfingered-grasp of conversation in the tavern in To Catch a Thief). So, while you stumbled a bit out the gate, you managed to turn it around for when it really mattered.

While there were some bits of outstanding dialogue (such as the captain's “…Raiaera will have to do”, post 2 - real good note to end the post on), there were also some subpar instances. In particular, Faelynn's 'twig' joke, I'm afraid to say, fell on its face. If it were a bad joke, all would be well and fine, but it's not clear what exactly is so funny about it in the first place. No need to force dialogue, internal or external, if it detracts more than it provides.



Action: 8/10
As with story, I'm not too sure what I can recommend here without being too subjective. Everything was credible, clear, and for the most part, vividly described. Incredibly vividly, to be frank. Cold showers featured prominently in marking the latter part of this thread, so well done. One thing I will say is that some lingering fatigue probably should have been present in the bedding scene, since Faelynn had apparently needed help to just stand up on their way there. Apart from that, excellent work, here.



Persona: 7/10
To reiterate: it took a little while to develop Faelynn's persona through dialogue, but it came through on the strength later on, aided quite well by action. Richard, on the other hand, was very well portrayed from the get-go, as was Breezeborn. It's just a shame that Mara didn't get a bit more attention, though.

Apart from that, your writing style - voice and perspective - were quite illustrative of Faelynn's inner machinations, but the effectiveness was diminished by some sub-par mechanical elements (see below).



Prose: 20/30


Mechanics: 6/10
The most abundant problem with the thread was, by far, the use of sentence fragments. Sometimes this worked ("Strange time to think about that", post 1), but for most part, it made your writing extremely jarring to read. Examples include: "Once the grandest school on the face of Althanas" (post 4), "The stitches and threads telling the stories of great moments of history for the region of Raiaera" and "Same ones that had been there the last time she’d visited" (post 5), "The dark hair framing that face pulled back in it’s usual tail to stream down her back" (post 6). You can change these by linking them to the previous sentence, or changing the participles (e.g. "They looked to be the same ones that had been there the last time she’d visited").

You also have a habit of starting off a paragraph with passive voice. In this instance, the frequency and predictability comes off a bit grating, as the mix of voice reads a bit strange. On the subject of paragraphs, there are a great many which consist of one sentence. This can be good for emphasis, certainly, but with the frequency with which they are used, they started to lose their edge a couple of posts in.

And, as ever, there are a few typos and such, which should be fixed easily enough with some proofreading. Also, be careful not to mix "it's" and "its", be aware of compound words, don't overuse a word (I noticed this with 'cadence' - good word, but it seemed to pop up to describe every sound), and brush up on the correct use of semicolons.

Otherwise, when your writing worked, it worked well. You have a good voice, but it could just do with some polishing off to let it come through more clearly.



Clarity: 7/10
No major issues with clarity were evident (I'm putting down the fact that Breezeborn and Mara were in Raiaera, when To Catch a Thief puts them in Fallien, due to it being a dream of sorts). The only problems came about due to poor sentence structure and phrasing. Examples: "In fact, he only had a couple inches on her and that said something" (post 1); the fact that it is saying something that he's taller than Faelynn implies that they are both quite tall indeed. Also: "He'd had not worked this hard" (post 6); seems a little fuddled here.



Technique: 7/10
Good use of casual metaphor and simile ("Her clothes felt like a strange second skin as they adhered to her body", post 2 - this one stuck with me, great imagery!). To risk getting a little subjective here, I might urge you to avoid cliché, such as the "the sky was nearly black as night" from post 1. Why not describe it as a 'cast-iron' sky instead? That's dark, too, but also sounds hard and unforgiving.

On a deeper note, I like how the story sort of reflected To Catch a Thief - materialised with the first words that Richard's shade says to Faelynn in Eluriand. There's a fitting recursion to that. Also, the discovery of Anglekos' name on the memorial casts overhangs the subsequent events of the thread, which the poignant ending so fittingly concludes.


Wildcard: 8/10
From the little I've read of Richard Elric Anglekos, I think you did his character justice. Furthermore, I think you did the relationship between him and Faelynn justice. This was one of the more touching stories that I've read on this site, and I want to thank you for writing it.

Total: 71/100



Reine receives 2000 experience and 215 gold. If the daggers cannot be awarded as spoils, then I'm sure a significant discount can be worked out.

[Mordelain]

Experience and gold added.