The Veran wood, a large section of the Ixchel Wilds, touched and imbued with the power of the ley-lines had been Vulpesen's home for decades. It was where not only he, but his entire race had been born, created by the toils of the Fae Brothers Vitae. Now, millennia after that ritual, Vulpesen walked as the voice of Varos. He was more than a warlock. He was a prophet. He was a link between his people and the divine, and only he knew the truth of what his childhood gods truly were. That knowledge did nothing to lessen his duties. Go where Varos commanded, and protect what he saw desirable. The cradle of Zorren civilization was one such desirable thing, and on the slightest touch of blightful darkness, Varos had sent his agent to investigate.
It was the sudden lurch of pain, screaming its way through Vulpesen's senses that caught his attention. Not his own pain of course, but that of something ancient. Something natural and belonging to the brothers' creation. Dropping to all fours, Vulpesen launched forward, his hips popping as his joints shifted to accomodate the quadrupedal gait. Something evil was afoot and he was too late to stop its damage. But he'd certainly be quick to avenge it.
His dash brought him to a small cliff and looking over, Vulpesen's breath hitched as he saw the dark form below, corrupting and twisting the unfortunate. His own magical sense, regarding the fae, was still underdeveloped. But the power that emanated from this being left no doubt. This wasn't a puck, or some simple
monster. It was a duannan. His master's own
species and the highest of the fae.
"Damn," he whispered, his black tail flicking nervously behind him. Vulpesen was clever. he was strong and powerful with the might of nature at his side. Man and monster fell before him like wheat to the scythe. But he was mortal. And this thing before him was above his usual prey. It was above him. For all intents and purposes, he was up against a demi-god. But that still didn't absolve him of his duty. He rose to his feet and drew his blade, the shimmering ley-steel giving off a faint sapphire glow.
"Who are you to trespass in the land of the Vitae court!?" He shouted across the distance. Partly he did so to give the creature a chance to surrender, unlikely as that would be. But mostly, it was because talking might give him time to think up some sort of plan.
Vyr Taethiras