Private Tales I'll Be Your Huckleberry

[Elorath Gilgolor]

This wasn't supposed to be a hard day. Travel from point a to point b, it should've just been a nice little walk through the woods. Unfortunately, the spirit of the forest didn't agree with his supposition.

Shaky fingers bent into a sign against evil, as he hopped off of his horse, Falstaff, and landed in the small clearing. He drew upon the impulse of Daring as he entered his own mind, and bore witness to the great plane which held the glyphs that he wished to draw upon. He chose what he believed to be "grow and barricade". Quickly, he bent over and drew the glyphs in the dusty earth beneath him, as the words too root he felt the magic move through him and take its toll on his already weakened body.

A terrible cough wracked his body, as the lines of magic snaked out and touched the bushes that lined the road. With the touch of his magic, their branches became snakes that twisted and weaved their way. They created a barrier that wouldn't last long to a blade or a sword, but he allowed it to grow tall enough that they would not be able to simply jump it. It would give them enough time to create some space.

Time was all that he could buy them, because a confrontation was inevitable. There could be no peace between them and these humans from the north. Their lot had been cast, and blood was theirs by right. It was only a shame that they had stumbled upon Elorath, for their lives would be what paid the toll.

"This will not hold them for long, I suggest that we prepare."

He pulled out his sword as he circled back to the man that he'd been meant to guard on this trip. Some kind of poison expert, if the stories were to be believed. Elorath had no knowledge of what poisons would do in a straight fight, but he had other sources of magic. He drew another glyph, this time the impulse was Grit, and he drew vitality. He felt some of his strength return to his form as he stood up straight.

He would have to draw on his runes soon. He turned to his companion and asked, "I mean no disrespect, but can you fight, sir?"

 

[Nieven Ermaya]

"My preparations have already begun," the scion of Ermaya replied calmly. A number of different poisons that he could utilize for this particular scenario had already been considered. It was unfortunate that they had been interrupted during his mission but such was often the case. There was also a part of him that simply wished for confrontation with the round-ears. They rarely, if ever, displayed the proper respect that Falwood deserved. How many more needed to die painful deaths before they learned.

Nieven paused at the inquiry from the honor guard. It was not because he found the question offensive but was instead surprised by the formality. The truth was that despite Nieven's status as a direct descendant of Ermaya's current leader, he was often disrespected. He suspected this was more due to the fact that the other elf was not aware of who he was actually guarding. Still, it made for a pleasant change.

The scion began to rifle through his assorted vials in response and eventually handed one to the other elf. "This should see you through this battle. Though you may curse me in a few days."

He then pulled a handful of near-translucent wire from a pouch at his side and began to walk towards the nearest tree. Nieven paused and then turned back to look at the young honor guard. "I have fought my entire life. These humans will soon know the truth of that."

Back he went to preparing his sinister traps.

 

[Elorath Gilgolor]

"Ah, but how did you know that putting my own health at risk for momentary gain is my specialty" He quipped as he tipped the potion back.

Of course, he probably should've been more worried about the effects of this concoction, but he truly had little reservations about long term self-preservation. He didn't know much about Nievan, nor his station in life, but he didn't care. He'd been fairly reliable on their mission so far, so he thought that he was able to trust him to at least see this through. His use of traps and poisons wasn't something that Elorath was accustomed to fighting around, but he thought that he could adjust his normal fighting style towards one that would make use of the traps, at least.

He would undoubtedly need to invoke the power of his runes soon, though. He undid the laces of his sleeves and shirt. The transformation that he underwent altered him on physiological level, and he didn't want to stretch the material. As he prepared, he looked at Nievan. He did seem to know what he was about, at the very least.

It was somewhat sad how many of them had spent their entire life in the same fight. For as long lived as his people were, there was little to their story aside from struggle. Only a select few got to live their lives in relative peace. The humans were unrelenting and their lives were short. To them, they must be raging inferno lest the wither away in their brief flash of existence.

"Is there anything that I could do to assist you?"

As he said that, he heard voices from the barrier that he had created. Chopping sounds soon followed as the foliage began to shake from the hack of their blades. Elorath sighed as he pulled out his sword and closed his eyes. As he did so, a quiet rush of power whispered into his ear like the sound of a trickling spring. It ever taunted him, and he took this moment to sip from its well. When the runes sprung to life, so too did Elorath.