Post by Wild Dog on Sept 10, 2010 15:24:55 GMT -5
“Fire, burns everything in its path. Tree, building, person, everything. It neither sleeps nor speaks, but it eats. Hear me, my child, listen to an old man and take heed of his warning. Fire is never a gentle master. It cares for neither allegiance nor race, gender nor age. It burns, without purpose or direction. Listen, my son. Remember, fire is never a gentle master” Tom Quden, father of Ra’Quden.
Those words held no warning to Ra’Quden. To him, fire was his life. What his father feared is what he treasured the most. Those words burned in his mind, shaping his life. The soldiers felt it. They kept a healthy distance away from him. The servants felt it. They scurried away, remembering more important tasks to do. Even the torches played against the stone wall according to his mood. Right now, Ra’Quden was livid. To say he was angry would have been a gross understatement. He practically seethed. Oh, the soldiers would have never known if he could keep his emotions in check. Outwardly, he was cool and collected. Towering over the soldiers, he looked every inch like an elf. Dark coat hid his thin, muscular body from. Tall, black boots made no noise over the stone flooring. A hood hid his face from casual glances. Hiding in it, was his brown hair, wild in every direction. If one would look closer, though, they would begin to make out the signs of madness and anger in him. His eyes were what threw most people off. His eyes held in them a blaze, barely contained. This gave the unnerving feeling to the observer that he was being slowly burned down. As they glared out from under the hood, people bowed their head and avoided eye contact. The torches flared every time the thought of the chamber, which was often.
His eyes weren’t the only sign. At his side rode his sword or what was left of it. Right now, only the hilt remained. The blade melted off years ago, but for some reason, the hilt remained. Maybe it was a spell. Maybe the gods, if there were any, had some joke to play on the Ra’Quden. What ever the cause of the weapon, it was his. And that was no laughing matter. When needed, he would create a new blade out of fire. The soldiers knew this quite well. Many tables were slashed in two by that blade of fire. They remembered. And trembled when they remembered. Many had thoughts of them being in the place of the tales. Right at this moment, the elf had his hands at the hilt, ready for action. He neither feared nor trusted the others, but it doesn’t matter. All Ra’Quden thought about was his failure. The empire’s failure, he corrected himself. When no dragon hatched, the soldiers didn’t seem all that surprised. Some even smirked. That was enough to blow the elf into a rage. The eggs didn’t break, of course, but the egg chamber was quite a mess. Walls were half melted. Servants ran screaming from the room, burning with a fire that couldn’t be doused. That wiped the smirk off their faces. They faced the elf, ready to die, when the officer called a halt. Surprised, Ra’Quden had stopped momentarily in his rage. Someone wanted to see him.
Now, grudging back through the castle, he wondered who it was. He knew nobody here. He doubted the old man, the king, wanted to see him. But who? The long corridors were dark, as the sun hadn’t yet made its appearance in the sky. The torches made enough light, however, enough it hide his eyes. If he would have looked behind him, which he did not, he would have witnessed the fire in the large candles slowly going out. Ahead of them, and indeed, where he was now glancing towards, was the image of the beacons igniting and burning bright. The soldiers could have easily carried some along with them, but Ra’Quden firmly dug his heels in. They would know who he was. Finally, after what seemed to be hours, they reached a large, metal door. The captain ordered a solder to open the door. The soldier jumped and jumped again once the elf’s eyes pierced his own. Swallowing, he strode over and opened the door.
Inside, a hearty fire burned, bathing the room in a pleasant glow. A large desk sat at one end. On the walls hung paintings of such beauty and value, that Ra’Quden momentarily missed sight of the man sitting at the desk. Only momentarily, though, and he soon caught a glimpse of the man. He was not very tall, though with humans though, the elf thought, he might have been. And still is, remembering the soldiers outside. Turning, he saws that the door was closed. Not one walked in. Chuckling, the man motioned Ra’Quden to sit in a chair next to the desk. The elf obliged and peered at the man. His face had a hard cast to it. Even sitting in the chair, the man seemed to be standing straight. Much like the captain outside, the elf realized. Before the man could speak, Ra’Quden spoke up.
“No names, I will forget you anyway. I don’t even want to know what you are. Just tell me what you want with me” Ra’Quden figured out that if he said that, humans assume that you won’t try to find out later on. The man seemed relieved. Perhaps he really didn’t want to tell the elf who he was. About to speak, he hesitated when he gazed into the elf’s eyes, then proceeded.
“Well, I am glad to have you here. I take it from the reports that the eggs didn’t hatch, then?”
The elf said nothing, but the fire blazed high in the fireplace.
“Well, yes” continued the man, “well, maybe next time then. In the mean time, I wondered if you would do me a favor. My son is out in the world somewhere and I want him to come home. Could you get him for me?”
The elf sneered, “You want me to go fetch your son like some servant?”
“Well, yes, I do”
“And what, if I happened to follow your wishes, would be my reward”
“Good question. From the stories the soldiers told me (which are very gruesome at best) you seem to be in search of a dragon. Tell you what, bring me back Taggh, and I will give you access to the room anytime you want.”
Ra’Quden thought for a while and the man relaxed his muscles that until this moment didn’t realize that they were tense.
“Where do I find him?”
“So you are in?” Are all humans this slow?
“Yes”
“Excellent. Well, I don’t know where he is, but my magicians can scry him for you. You will have his picture. Form there, you are on your own.” The man handed him a letter. “This is to make sure you aren’t hindered by the empire. Show this to any soldier and he will neither hinder nor question anything you do” Ra’Quden would have whistled, but he wasn’t the sort of elf. That would virtually give him free reign of the land, as long as the man held his side of the bargain.
“Fine, I will do it”
With that, the elf stood up and walked out of the door. Pausing, he glanced over is shoulder at the man. He stood there, smiling. Right there and then, the elf made up his mind, he didn’t like that man. The smile was too forced. His eyes held none of the merriment the mouth faked. It didn’t matter. Nothing did except to redo what the empire messed up. Outside the door, none of the men previously standing there were still there. Only a servant, mopping the ground, remained in view. Smiling, Ra’Quden set afire to the mans hair. Only for a very short period of time, but enough to startle the man so badly he leaped up. First he looked around, glanced at the torch, and then finally settling his gaze on the intruder. Eyes wide, he cursed and ran. Laughing, the elf ambled down the hallway. Already, visions of a dragon at his side spurred him forward. Only then would he get his revenge on the world.
Stopping by the stables, he walked in, uninvited. The stable manager was rudely woken and was told to grab a saddle. Ra’Quden strolled about the room, admiring each fine specimen. Halting at a large black horse, he requested (ordered, in fact) the manager to saddle this one. The man was stunned.
“But master, that horse is the generals horse” blubbered the man. Ra’Quden didn’t answer but lit a stack of hay. The man tried to put it out, but couldn’t. The elf watched on, amused. Finally, the man gave up and saddled the black. Laughing, the elf put out the fire, mounted the poor beast, and rode off.
Those words held no warning to Ra’Quden. To him, fire was his life. What his father feared is what he treasured the most. Those words burned in his mind, shaping his life. The soldiers felt it. They kept a healthy distance away from him. The servants felt it. They scurried away, remembering more important tasks to do. Even the torches played against the stone wall according to his mood. Right now, Ra’Quden was livid. To say he was angry would have been a gross understatement. He practically seethed. Oh, the soldiers would have never known if he could keep his emotions in check. Outwardly, he was cool and collected. Towering over the soldiers, he looked every inch like an elf. Dark coat hid his thin, muscular body from. Tall, black boots made no noise over the stone flooring. A hood hid his face from casual glances. Hiding in it, was his brown hair, wild in every direction. If one would look closer, though, they would begin to make out the signs of madness and anger in him. His eyes were what threw most people off. His eyes held in them a blaze, barely contained. This gave the unnerving feeling to the observer that he was being slowly burned down. As they glared out from under the hood, people bowed their head and avoided eye contact. The torches flared every time the thought of the chamber, which was often.
His eyes weren’t the only sign. At his side rode his sword or what was left of it. Right now, only the hilt remained. The blade melted off years ago, but for some reason, the hilt remained. Maybe it was a spell. Maybe the gods, if there were any, had some joke to play on the Ra’Quden. What ever the cause of the weapon, it was his. And that was no laughing matter. When needed, he would create a new blade out of fire. The soldiers knew this quite well. Many tables were slashed in two by that blade of fire. They remembered. And trembled when they remembered. Many had thoughts of them being in the place of the tales. Right at this moment, the elf had his hands at the hilt, ready for action. He neither feared nor trusted the others, but it doesn’t matter. All Ra’Quden thought about was his failure. The empire’s failure, he corrected himself. When no dragon hatched, the soldiers didn’t seem all that surprised. Some even smirked. That was enough to blow the elf into a rage. The eggs didn’t break, of course, but the egg chamber was quite a mess. Walls were half melted. Servants ran screaming from the room, burning with a fire that couldn’t be doused. That wiped the smirk off their faces. They faced the elf, ready to die, when the officer called a halt. Surprised, Ra’Quden had stopped momentarily in his rage. Someone wanted to see him.
Now, grudging back through the castle, he wondered who it was. He knew nobody here. He doubted the old man, the king, wanted to see him. But who? The long corridors were dark, as the sun hadn’t yet made its appearance in the sky. The torches made enough light, however, enough it hide his eyes. If he would have looked behind him, which he did not, he would have witnessed the fire in the large candles slowly going out. Ahead of them, and indeed, where he was now glancing towards, was the image of the beacons igniting and burning bright. The soldiers could have easily carried some along with them, but Ra’Quden firmly dug his heels in. They would know who he was. Finally, after what seemed to be hours, they reached a large, metal door. The captain ordered a solder to open the door. The soldier jumped and jumped again once the elf’s eyes pierced his own. Swallowing, he strode over and opened the door.
Inside, a hearty fire burned, bathing the room in a pleasant glow. A large desk sat at one end. On the walls hung paintings of such beauty and value, that Ra’Quden momentarily missed sight of the man sitting at the desk. Only momentarily, though, and he soon caught a glimpse of the man. He was not very tall, though with humans though, the elf thought, he might have been. And still is, remembering the soldiers outside. Turning, he saws that the door was closed. Not one walked in. Chuckling, the man motioned Ra’Quden to sit in a chair next to the desk. The elf obliged and peered at the man. His face had a hard cast to it. Even sitting in the chair, the man seemed to be standing straight. Much like the captain outside, the elf realized. Before the man could speak, Ra’Quden spoke up.
“No names, I will forget you anyway. I don’t even want to know what you are. Just tell me what you want with me” Ra’Quden figured out that if he said that, humans assume that you won’t try to find out later on. The man seemed relieved. Perhaps he really didn’t want to tell the elf who he was. About to speak, he hesitated when he gazed into the elf’s eyes, then proceeded.
“Well, I am glad to have you here. I take it from the reports that the eggs didn’t hatch, then?”
The elf said nothing, but the fire blazed high in the fireplace.
“Well, yes” continued the man, “well, maybe next time then. In the mean time, I wondered if you would do me a favor. My son is out in the world somewhere and I want him to come home. Could you get him for me?”
The elf sneered, “You want me to go fetch your son like some servant?”
“Well, yes, I do”
“And what, if I happened to follow your wishes, would be my reward”
“Good question. From the stories the soldiers told me (which are very gruesome at best) you seem to be in search of a dragon. Tell you what, bring me back Taggh, and I will give you access to the room anytime you want.”
Ra’Quden thought for a while and the man relaxed his muscles that until this moment didn’t realize that they were tense.
“Where do I find him?”
“So you are in?” Are all humans this slow?
“Yes”
“Excellent. Well, I don’t know where he is, but my magicians can scry him for you. You will have his picture. Form there, you are on your own.” The man handed him a letter. “This is to make sure you aren’t hindered by the empire. Show this to any soldier and he will neither hinder nor question anything you do” Ra’Quden would have whistled, but he wasn’t the sort of elf. That would virtually give him free reign of the land, as long as the man held his side of the bargain.
“Fine, I will do it”
With that, the elf stood up and walked out of the door. Pausing, he glanced over is shoulder at the man. He stood there, smiling. Right there and then, the elf made up his mind, he didn’t like that man. The smile was too forced. His eyes held none of the merriment the mouth faked. It didn’t matter. Nothing did except to redo what the empire messed up. Outside the door, none of the men previously standing there were still there. Only a servant, mopping the ground, remained in view. Smiling, Ra’Quden set afire to the mans hair. Only for a very short period of time, but enough to startle the man so badly he leaped up. First he looked around, glanced at the torch, and then finally settling his gaze on the intruder. Eyes wide, he cursed and ran. Laughing, the elf ambled down the hallway. Already, visions of a dragon at his side spurred him forward. Only then would he get his revenge on the world.
Stopping by the stables, he walked in, uninvited. The stable manager was rudely woken and was told to grab a saddle. Ra’Quden strolled about the room, admiring each fine specimen. Halting at a large black horse, he requested (ordered, in fact) the manager to saddle this one. The man was stunned.
“But master, that horse is the generals horse” blubbered the man. Ra’Quden didn’t answer but lit a stack of hay. The man tried to put it out, but couldn’t. The elf watched on, amused. Finally, the man gave up and saddled the black. Laughing, the elf put out the fire, mounted the poor beast, and rode off.
