The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum - View Single Post

Anguirel · 01-27-2006, 03:25 AM

Endamir's ominous premonition seemed to have an immediate effect on the spirits in the tower. The sentries from the torch-brackets exchanged a glance that could have been knowing, fearful or triumphant, so inscrutable it seemed to the corporeal Elves; they then faded from sight, and another grate of rusted iron against stone announced that they had returned to their hosts.

More telling was the reaction of the other two, the Seneschal and the Diviner. The former seemed puzzled, wary, uncertain.

"But my friend...how can this be? You said you left your wounded friend attended by your twin brother at the guardhouse? How then can they have fallen into danger..."

"Mayhap the guards proved faithless," the Diviner replied, and there was hideous satisfaction in his sanctimonious, pedant's voice. Idrahil grew angry, taking a step forward and laying a hand upon the other's shoulder. Could spirits feel each others' touch? It almost seemed so.

"Do not insult the soldiery of Himring, soothsayer. They are my Elves and I have trained them to remember that: first that they are Elves and secondly that they are mine."

"It seems this Ingir was slow to learn your lesson..." the Diviner taunted. But he had stepped too far. The Seneschal drew still closer to him and clasped the smaller figure's frail neck with his pale, mailed hands.

"Speak no further or thou art no friend of mine!"

"I no longer need you," came the unsettling reply from one that could no longer be called a he. Idrahil was thrown back as if by an unseen buffet. The Diviner now stood taller even than the mighty Seneschal, wild, long hair flying out behind...her...

"I know where your friends be. I know how to save them-travel to my grotto and bury the bones therein. But you never will. For I will end you here, and you will remain here, all six of you traitors who left us to die...you will never see Mandos, any more than I will..."

Three white sparks rose through the chilly air as Idrahil unsheathed his pale, shimmering longsword.

"You will have to reckon with me first, yrch. For I can find no other word for an Elf who behaves so...guards, to me!"

But there was no answer from the brackets. They were not taking sides. And so the Diviner and the Seneschal closed for combat...

01-27-2006, 03:25 AM	#2
Anguirel Byronic Brand Join Date: Mar 2005 Location: The 1590s Posts: 2,778	Endamir's ominous premonition seemed to have an immediate effect on the spirits in the tower. The sentries from the torch-brackets exchanged a glance that could have been knowing, fearful or triumphant, so inscrutable it seemed to the corporeal Elves; they then faded from sight, and another grate of rusted iron against stone announced that they had returned to their hosts. More telling was the reaction of the other two, the Seneschal and the Diviner. The former seemed puzzled, wary, uncertain. "But my friend...how can this be? You said you left your wounded friend attended by your twin brother at the guardhouse? How then can they have fallen into danger..." "Mayhap the guards proved faithless," the Diviner replied, and there was hideous satisfaction in his sanctimonious, pedant's voice. Idrahil grew angry, taking a step forward and laying a hand upon the other's shoulder. Could spirits feel each others' touch? It almost seemed so. "Do not insult the soldiery of Himring, soothsayer. They are my Elves and I have trained them to remember that: first that they are Elves and secondly that they are mine." "It seems this Ingir was slow to learn your lesson..." the Diviner taunted. But he had stepped too far. The Seneschal drew still closer to him and clasped the smaller figure's frail neck with his pale, mailed hands. "Speak no further or thou art no friend of mine!" "I no longer need you," came the unsettling reply from one that could no longer be called a he. Idrahil was thrown back as if by an unseen buffet. The Diviner now stood taller even than the mighty Seneschal, wild, long hair flying out behind...her... "I know where your friends be. I know how to save them-travel to my grotto and bury the bones therein. But you never will. For I will end you here, and you will remain here, all six of you traitors who left us to die...you will never see Mandos, any more than I will..." Three white sparks rose through the chilly air as Idrahil unsheathed his pale, shimmering longsword. "You will have to reckon with me first, yrch. For I can find no other word for an Elf who behaves so...guards, to me!" But there was no answer from the brackets. They were not taking sides. And so the Diviner and the Seneschal closed for combat...