Humans were really simple creatures. A lot like dogs. Oh! Dogs? Those were little furry buds that humans kept around for security and companionship. See, dogs could be trained to listen to basic commands. They were programmable, responding to positive feedback or the promise of sustenance. It made them real easy to manipulate and Ramiel always figured that's why humans liked them so much.
They were easy to train, easy to control.
It was why Ramiel liked humans so much. In a way humans were kind of like his dogs. You could teach them neat little tricks like, 'make me a Sazerac,' or, 'come to bed with me.' If they feared you they'd listen out of compulsion but if you got them to adore you? Well, they were an Avariel's best friend.
Many within his race didn't share these thoughts. Normally his brothers and sisters hid their wings to avoid attention. Masquerading as regular elves or travelers in an attempt to avoid hunters or to refrain from the praise of more primitive humans.
It was a waste. They were one of the oldest races in all of Arethil. The idea that they would hide who they were, a part of their very essence, because the child races might get jealous was absurd to him. As it should be to all Avariel.
Dreams were interrupted as Ram awoke in a daze. His left wing wrapped around a human female and two human males. He was pretty sure he had only drank a single bottle of wine and maybe one glass of whisky. Pretty sure. But the scene this morning and his rupturing headache were telling him differently.
The Avariel fell out of bed and stepped towards a large watering bowl in the corner of the room. Rubbing the sleepiness from his eyes he glanced down at the still water before plunging his face into it. The coolness of the liquid helped wake him up but it did nothing for his throbbing skull. He’d need to get someone to cook him a hearty breakfast and prepare some coffee.
Taking a modest looking tan robe off a hanger he covered himself before leaving the wooden home nearby this village’s temple. He had walked around ten paces until one of the people in this town came rushing to his side and rapidly spat out, “servant of light! There are travelers who have stopped by the village and are eager to meet with you.”
Bad news.
Travelers didn’t hear of a winged elf and think, ‘wow I can’t wait to meet this interesting fellow,’ no. The other races were greedy, pathetic little insects that coveted his people’s natural affinity for flight. They craved his people’s feathers in the same manner as a wayward child craving candies.
Fingertips sparked with static at the thought of more Avariel hunters. “Bring them to me. And fetch me a mug of coffee while you’re at it,” Ramiel said with stale breath and an annoyed grimace.
This was going to prove to be an eventful little morning.
They were easy to train, easy to control.
It was why Ramiel liked humans so much. In a way humans were kind of like his dogs. You could teach them neat little tricks like, 'make me a Sazerac,' or, 'come to bed with me.' If they feared you they'd listen out of compulsion but if you got them to adore you? Well, they were an Avariel's best friend.
Many within his race didn't share these thoughts. Normally his brothers and sisters hid their wings to avoid attention. Masquerading as regular elves or travelers in an attempt to avoid hunters or to refrain from the praise of more primitive humans.
It was a waste. They were one of the oldest races in all of Arethil. The idea that they would hide who they were, a part of their very essence, because the child races might get jealous was absurd to him. As it should be to all Avariel.
Dreams were interrupted as Ram awoke in a daze. His left wing wrapped around a human female and two human males. He was pretty sure he had only drank a single bottle of wine and maybe one glass of whisky. Pretty sure. But the scene this morning and his rupturing headache were telling him differently.
The Avariel fell out of bed and stepped towards a large watering bowl in the corner of the room. Rubbing the sleepiness from his eyes he glanced down at the still water before plunging his face into it. The coolness of the liquid helped wake him up but it did nothing for his throbbing skull. He’d need to get someone to cook him a hearty breakfast and prepare some coffee.
Taking a modest looking tan robe off a hanger he covered himself before leaving the wooden home nearby this village’s temple. He had walked around ten paces until one of the people in this town came rushing to his side and rapidly spat out, “servant of light! There are travelers who have stopped by the village and are eager to meet with you.”
Bad news.
Travelers didn’t hear of a winged elf and think, ‘wow I can’t wait to meet this interesting fellow,’ no. The other races were greedy, pathetic little insects that coveted his people’s natural affinity for flight. They craved his people’s feathers in the same manner as a wayward child craving candies.
Fingertips sparked with static at the thought of more Avariel hunters. “Bring them to me. And fetch me a mug of coffee while you’re at it,” Ramiel said with stale breath and an annoyed grimace.
This was going to prove to be an eventful little morning.