You Shall Return Triumphant (Eren)

[Chrysannia Syl'lithar]

Month of Ioannes
21st Brightening
9th Candlemark

The barking of a pack of dogs could be heard for miles around as they wound their noisy way through the tranquil forest of the Tawnleaf. The dogs numbered seven in total and were known as the Silrosian Tracker, a breed bred specialy by the elves to be for lack of a better term their dog versions. Having the patience of the immortal like elves the Silrosian Tracker continued on the hunt for the scent trail of the animal the following party was searching for. Calling out loudly in loyal bellows if they thought they had strayed too far ahead or were unsure of their master whereabouts. The group of hunting dogs consisted of mostly tan animals but there was a single white one thrown in the mix, seemingly the leader of hunting pack.

Following behind the group of seven tracking dogs was a party of elves. The elves numbered three and rode astride the lithe and gracefully speedy horses known as the Elven Windstepper. Riding a Windstepper of dappled chestnut brown and beige was a male elf with short black hair and a serious face. The man wore tan leather armor and a dark green cloak that blended in with the surrounding colors of the forest. Riding with one hand on the reigns and the other holding a sheathed longsword from constantly thumping against his charges flanks. Keeping his emerald eyes always upon the head of the trio he was often found lagging slightly behind the other two as he was not watching where to lead his horse, Inrihr, even though the beast did its best to keep going without proper direction.

Second of the trio was a female with hair the color of the deep sea, an almost luminous black-blue, that was tied into a severe ponytail behind her. Her face was warn and on guard as her violet eyes scanned the surrounding forest for any sign of the quarry. She too was garbed in tan leather armor and a dark green cloack that afforded her the same affect as that of her male counterpart. In her hands she did not hold a sword, instead she cradled a crossbow in the nook of her arm and balanced it perfectly against her chest and shoulder. Her horse was a creature of perfect, uniform brown known as Lyna and kept its pace slightly behind that of the leader.

At the head of the three elves sat a woman of impeccable beauty, golden blond hair trailing loosely behind as she sped along the forest paths. Her soft slightly tan skin glistening with just the slightest sheen of sweat in the heat of the early summer morning. Liquid amber eyes darting to and fro as they searched the undergrowth for the elusive prey that she had set out scant candlemarks ago in search of. Her lithe frame meagerly protected in finely crafted and stitched hunting leathers the mixed colors of the forest, seemingly arcane in design as they blended so perfectly. A cloak of varying degrees of forest greens was clasped around her neck with a silver and green aspen leaf, the thick riding cloak whipping in the wind as she went. Her small feet encased is soft knee-high black leather boots, her stirruped feet taping the sides of her steed softly urging it on to greater speeds. Her ride, known as Valuer, was mare of an almost silvery white hair and a main of grey. The beasts delicate lines and powerful chest stretched and heaved as it ran gracefully after the pack of hunting dogs.

"Torina." The voice of Chrysannia Syl'lithar sounded strongly through the forest and cut through the barks of the dog pack and the thrum of the horses breathing. "Come girl." She called out the command as she reigned in the silvery mare the horse relishing the respite. The white dog came running full titl around a small bend towards Chrys and stopped beside her master wagging her tail happily.

Leaning down so as to be able to caress the muzzle and head of her cherished companion Chrysannia looked her in her shining brown eyes. "Find them girl, find them for me." The command was met with an anxious whine and a cheerful bark from the white dog. "Go then, find them." The elf maidens hand coming up in an arc which sent the dog scampering off once more to rejoin the six others that greeted her with a chorus of barks.

"We are near the Kallo'Meetim, my lady." The voice of the other female elf, Sidar, said graciously from her position to the right of the elf noble. "The ones we seek should still be in the general vicinity of the creek. I say that it would be our strongest bet to find one of the creatures." Sidara commented as once more Chrys began the trio moving forward slowly.

"I agree with Sidara." Val'ryn told Chrys with a nod of his black haired head. "We should seek them there, though we will need to bring the dogs in if we are to gain the upper hand." He explained as his astute hearing picked up the noisy hunting dogs as clear as the sky. "It is no more then a few minutes ride from out current position, my lady." He finished as his leader raised her hand to ward off further talk.

The three of them traveled in silence from that time until Chrysannia once again called upon her loyal white companion. This time it was not just the white dog but the entire group of seven. She ordered the pack to stay with the the trio and to keep quiet as best they could. Chrys knew that the excited animals would still whine and yelp in excitement as this days task was the reason they were bred for. The hunt.

Continuing on in silence Chrysannia sat in comfortable contemplation about the intricacies of shooting a bow while ridding a horse. She doubted she would be able to take a deer down unless she was riding extremely close to the creature. It would be best then to allow her two guardians to take the animal down, unless she herself made a lucky shot and took it down herself. The elf maid was taken from her revere with the sound of splashing and the cool touch of water droplets on her face. The party was crossing the Kallo'Meetim, the golden creek, into an area that deer have been known to spend the darkening and early candlemarks grazing and resting.

[Erenthril Mael'tharias]

OOC: Apologies, I'm a bit rusty here...

There was a sudden flurry of wind behind him, that secretive prickling of the hairs upon the nape of his neck as he instinctively jerked to the right; a rush of psionic energy mauling into the stalagmite and dissipating. He gasped, breath coming hard into his allegedly punctured lung, unsure if the reality of the situation had been brought about sincerely or was merely another diminutive torture put on him by Rigel. To his left, Eren became dimly aware of someone running beside him, and a quick glance over his shoulder confirmed the former director of the House of Whispers panting alongside him. “I think we failed,” Eren gasped, his breath hesitant and uncertain, no longer the smooth steady flow it had been in months past.

~~~

A sudden burst of white light unfurled itself in the middle of the clearing opposite of the small creek Chrysannia’s party held, arcanic waves and energies rippling through the leaves and underbrush. A continuous throbbing of pure light scattered the deer and other small creatures away, the pulse unmistakable and yet too bright for the pupils to gather in. The elves present could just barely glimpse the form of two figures abruptly appearing out of what must have been thin air, one collapsing on the ground soon afterwards while the other knelt. A hushed conversation took place, mostly one-sided, before the figure that had been kneeling stood up and turned to the Elves gathered. He was unmistakably human, now that the brightness was wearing off and the pupils were adjusting to the swift intake of light, with dark rustic brown curls slowly graying even as he seemed to flag them down. Capturing their attention, he pointed to his companion sprawled out on his back, chest faintly rising and falling, before dismissing himself from their audience by another portal that seemed to open, snap, and close the eternity of space once more.

Atop the forest floor was a man not unlike other men, though caught severely between a rock and a hard place. Long flowing chocolate brown hair fell about in curls around his angular handsome face, emerald green eyes tightly shut as he gasped – each intake of air causing another rush of pain to surge through him, his fingertips grasping at an unforeseen object, curling under the whip of discomfort. His clothes were tattered, if clothes at all, his shirt removed and his pants ragged – almost cave like in appearance now – with the only intact surviving apparel of his clothing being the black leather boots…thoroughly covered in slime, mud, and…blood?

And there he lay, somehow finding himself in his least desired place of Telath, at the mercy of strangers.

Damn you Nikolas.