~ Basic Shortsword (Eilithyia) ~

[Adamon Mylenthar]

It was already late in the brightening, and the Demios Training Grounds looked somewhat deserted, but Daragin, the dwarf who Eilithyia had spoken to, had clearly told her that her training would take place in the evening. Milthrandir had a busy schedule, and thus it was that he did not have time for another student until shortly before sunset. Indeed, the half Tulosian woman should consider herself lucky that she could train at all. The diminuitive bearded warrior had already left the grounds to empty a mug of ale or two at the Leap of Faith as the human woman’s class was the last one for this brightening. Only her instructor remained.

The sky had been a clear, flawless blue only a couple of minutes before, but it was beginning to darken rapidly now. Light blue made way to dark blue – and then, as the suns crept across the horizon, the world exploded into a multitude of colors. Red, pink, orange and golden could be seen on the sky. The island was bathed into a warm, supernatural light for just a few moments before the wonderful shimmer faded and gave way to grey and a dull blue once more. Eilithyia could see the outline of a man against the fading light. He was leaning against a tree and looking at her.

He was not her teacher. Milthrandir was a sea elf, but the elf that approached her now belonged to an entirely different elven subrace. He was a vysstichi, still young, a tall man with smooth ebony skin, white hair that was tied back into a ponytail and brilliant red eyes, one of the children of Haya. His clothes stood in contrast to that. The dark elf wore the brown and green clothes of a druid, a follower of Carmelya. A shortsword could be seen in a sheath at his belt. There was something odd about the way that the fading light reflected on his skin, a most unnatural shimmer.

„Milthrandir could not come …“ he stated softly. His voice was quite pleasant. There was no trace of the harsh accent that so many of his kind had. He spoke the human language flawlessly. It was a mystery, a riddle that the dark elf would not solve anytime soon. His past among the elves of Silrosia, his resurrection, his encounters with vampires and werewolves and the subsequent meeting with Carmelya’s messenger would remain unknown to the woman.

She would be nothing but his student, the second one he would teach how to use a weapon. He offered classes at the Institute of Higher Learning and here every once in a while – the masters were happy to have him as a teacher - although they found it odd that he always arrived so late. Milthrandir, the institute’s chief instructor, and he had been friends before he had been reborn to darkness, and that friendship had remained. Of course the sea elf had no clue that the vysstichi was not quite the same anymore, and Adamon would not tell him.

„I’m Adamon, a friend of his.“ He smiled at her, a warm, honest smile that made it hard to believe that he was capable of anything bad, that he, the child of Carmelya, killed on a regular basis. „I will be your teacher …“

[Eilithyia Pareto]

Summer days drifting away to oh, the summer nights… The random snatch of song remained in Eilithyia’s head as she walked to the Training Grounds, cycling around again and again in her mind, much to her annoyance. And she didn’t even know the rest of the song! Irritating indeed. She tapped her head with her finger, as if she could physically drive the song out. Then she tried smacking herself with her palm – and the resulting pain replaced the cheerful melody… for a few seconds, before it started up again. Summer days… She growled.

Even in her current aggravated state, it was hard for Eilithyia not to notice the beauty around her. Demios was picturesque enough, but now, with the sunset lighting up the skies with vivid shades of pink and gold… There was no choice but to stop awhile and watch the stunning display. The progression of colors, from the most delicate shell-pink to brilliant shades of red, was so arresting that it was only when it was nearly over that Eilithyia realized she’d spent precious time gawping at a sunset rather than getting a move on to her very first lesson.

And what a good impression you’ll make, late for class, Eilithyia scolded herself as she hurried along the road. And was I supposed to bring something? Like… a short sword? She dearly hoped that some practice swords would be provided, since she hadn’t had the foresight to buy one of her own. Anyhow, it shouldn’t be so bad. Milthrandir seems like a nice enough sort, even if I only met him for a few minutes. But what if he just looks friendly?! Looks can deceiving…

Her train of thought was interrupted when she sighted a figure silhouetted against the last vestiges of the sunset. Milthrandir! was her first thought, but when the elf stepped out and drew closer, it was obvious that this was an elf of a different color – literally. Despite the dimming light, Eilithyia could still make out the dark skin, white hair, and red eyes that marked him as a Vysstichi. She stepped back, partly in surprise, but also fear. She’d heard much of Vysstichi and Esh’lahier – none of it good. He was garbed like a druid, but that did little to lessen her uneasiness. For all she knew, it could simply be a ploy to lull his victims into complacency before taking his shortsword and-

Hm. Coincidence? Is it irony that I’m to be killed by the very weapon I was planning to learn? Eilithyia forced down a quick, hysterical giggle – which was fortunate, as Adamon began to speak. ”Milthrandir could not come… I’m Adamon, a friend of his.” His voice was soothing, his smile friendly and open, which helped to allay Eilithyia’s ample fears. Certainly one who could smile so couldn’t be too bad… right?

Still inching back, Eilithyia tugged at her hair, a nervous smile plastered on her face. “Oh, is that so… Ah… Nice to meet you, Adamon. Sir. Well. Thanks for passing along the news then… I suppose I’ll just come by again tomorrow. Uh… Serale.” She turned to leave, deciding to walk at a dignified pace until she was out of sight. Then she would run.

[Adamon Mylenthar]

Eilithyia’s worries about whether Milthrandir was friendly – or just looking friendly and killing people somehwere behind her back were unjustified. The sea elf had never been anything but kind. He had had some problems when the dark elf had stepped into the training grounds all those months ago, but they had soon made way to genuine feelings of friendship. They had found that they had had much in common. When the vysstichi had left the island and not returned for nearly an era, the sea elf had been worried out of his mind. At first he had thought that he was facing Adamon’s ghost rather than the real elf. It did not happen very often that people returned after a month long absence during which their friends had been unable to reach them.

Bright red eyes watched the half Tulosian woman with a mixture of amusement and serious concern. The way he held himself, the look on his face, his voice, everything about him was meant to ease her fears. If he had wanted to kill her, he would have done so the moment she had stepped on the island. But he saw no reason to harm her. Despite the fact that he was a vampire he was not like those of his race that lived underground. He never committed any crimes on the island where he had chosen to make his home to protect himself. Dead people with puncture wounds on their neck attracted attention after all, even if they had been thieves, beggars and other lowly forms of life, even if they belonged to those that were already condemned during their lifetime.

“You are afraid,” he whispered. “But I’m not going to harm you. I may be a dark elf, but I’m also a druid and a warrior who wants to do an old friend a favour ...” The vampire, the predator in him, the evil Hayan creature savoured those feelings of fear, but his dark part was not quite as strong as it had been. The meeting with the goddess’ messenger had changed him and given him the hope. He mainly fed on the evildoers nowadays, held himself back. Carmelya’s avatar had suggested that there was a way for him to be saved. He did not want to lose his mistress’ love and his only chance of salvation.

A soft laughter escaped his lips as she excused herself and prepared to leave, and he simply began to walk at her side as if she had invited him to go with her for a while. “Milthrandir won’t be back for a while. I’m afraid you’ll have to study with me if you want to know how to use a sword. Think of it, Miss Pareto, who would make a better teacher than a vysstichi, a man who has had to fight for his life more than once? Do I really look as if I want to hurt you? I did not attack you when you came here, did I?”