Darkest of nights (open)

[Joraen Englar]

The Month of Kalendryas, in the Season of Winter, Era I of the Celestine Mandate, Era XV Post Fractum. 14th Brightening.

Darkness. In it, he felt in some small measure as if he was still at home, under the very ground on which he walked now. He had spent the day arming himself. The world up here was unknown to him. For the years of his life that had already passed, he had spent all his time down with his family and his kind in the city of the Dark Elves. Of course, Har'oloth was not like most cities of the vysstichi. It was connected to Vortex and not far from the surface. Still, he had never left its dark caverns. There had never been a need. He had never wanted to. Although he had not fled far, the surface was very different. He had no choice but to come up here.

He walked through the night streets, seeing as if it were daylight for a human. Around him, people either didn't notice him or gave him suspicious glances. When dressed in head to toe in black with skin to match, you either went unnoticed in the shadows, or you appeared very menacing indeed. He was not openly armed, but who would trust the glowing embers of his red eyes? Of course, he was now armed, with twin Elven longknives strapped and sheathed to each hip, his cloak now loosened and parted slightly along his chest so he would be able to reach in and pull them out easier. In this gap in his cloak his dull metal chainmail shirt was visable. But with his clothes hugging his body, the mail made less noise than he had expected. He was walking briskly. Perhaps he would still be silent when creeping through the shadows. Should he ever need to take such action.

His obsession with security derived from the same places as his need to flee Har'oloth, although he had, admittedly, not run very far. Not yet anyway. Now with his unexpected freedom, he did not know where the fates would take him. Or maybe, where his own choice would lead him. He remembered what spurred him to leave well.

A hand had touched his shoulder in the coridoor as he stormed out of his mother and fathers chambers. He spun on his heel, anger clear in his expression. "What do you want Taryn?" He demanded hotly.
"So little respect for your own cousin Joraen. Are we not friends as well as family?"
"You must know what they said to me, again." Joraen said tersely, jerking his thumb towards the door, where rumblings of voices could be heard.
"I don't disagree with them." His cousin replied with a shrug.
"Of course not. Who doesn't?" He sighed, trying to let some of his temper dissolve. "So are you going to lecture me as well, friend?" He demanded harshly.
"That woman will make you weak. You know this, your mother and father have no desire for you to turn from your path."
"What I do is no business of theirs!" He contested heatedly.

This was all about the woman he was seriously considering marrying. She was vysstichi, but none like the bossy uptight matrons of the city. She had been raised amongst the surface lands. Not exactly mingling with lightborns, vysstichi were feared everywhere. But her upbringing was different to his. Her parents must have been accustomed to the ways of the surface dwellers too. Their family had lived in solitude mostly, in the wilderness, to escape most persecution. But they had raised their daughter in a softer, more gentler way. She was kind, soft of features and person. She was a woman of the surface peoples, not a harsh vysstichi woman. She touched his heart in ways he could not explain. A heart his parents did not wish him to have. They said she would weaken him, drive him to be corrupted by the ways of the lightborn, he would become a traitor to his family, so they thought.

"To follow the ways of the family you must be heartless Joraen. Like your brothers."
"To hell with them!" He shouted angrily. He was already heartless enough. He was cunning, merciless, cruel, cold, aloof. Around everyone except his lover, that was. But he had not really changed like his parents feared. He could still train to be a fine warrior, assassin, thief, liar. The sons of his family were expected to become agents of shadows, to bring wealth to the family through stabbing in the dark and light. His parents valued the martial arts and poisoned blade though they well respected the poisonous tongue too.
"You cannot let this woman take you away from us." His cousin said, crossing his arms impatiently.
"She desires no such thing. Why do you presume a woman will render me unable to do my duty to my family? It is not her I should end up being employed to kill. Why does it matter?" Joraen would not back down on this issue. He had proved that already today.
"They percieve you are going soft. And so do I. Is it really so hard to give her up?"
"And you would rather be a slave to a matriarch in your future? To be ordered around and bullied by females. She is a treasure, we are equals, she is not like the others. You are simply jealous that I lay with her and you do not."
This last comment seemed to anger his cousin.
"I would not seek such frail temper and weak will! Know your place Joraen. It is meant to be that way in our world. This surface born whore of yours should be ashamed of how subservient she is. It is not meant for our kind." Joraen knew the place of males. But he had fallen for this woman, partly because she was not like the others he had grown up with. She was so pure in spirit. Him and his family were xenophobic. The lightborn were weak and mercy was for fools. Outsiders would in turn call his kind cruel and evil. They shunned him and his kin. But their ways were simply their culture, and they were indeed harsh and unforgiving. Somehow, however, he took joy in her kind heart. He did not disrespect her for lacking the harshness of the Dark Elves. What did it really matter anyway, why wasn't he allowed this pleasure, to stay with this woman? Why did his parents care so much? Why did all his family seem to feel the need to butt in? His last insult of her finally caught up with him in his mind as he finished mulling over his other thoughts.
"How dare you!" He shouted angrily, lashing out with his fist. Before he knew it, his cousin lay crumped on the floor, his temple bleeding. He had knocked the other elf into the hard stone wall. Joraen had not meant to do it. He fled, fearful of the anger of his elders.

It was worse than that. How could he have known what he had done? His cousin had not woken, and had grown ill. It was possible he would die. Joraen had not waited to try to apologise. He was out of favour now. He made to leave, but someone caught up with him first. Taryns brother had caught up with him, angry and spoling for a fight, incensed by Joraens continuing lack of respect. Joraen was attacked, and soon he was losing the fight, and had reached for anything to strike back. His hand had found a heavy stone ornament. He had swung it at his assailents head.

Now he was perhaps guilty of two deaths.
He warned his lover what had happened. She had to get away, back to the surface. Once they got to the streets of Vortex together, he had parted from her, insisting it was for her own good. She would go back to her parents house in the countryside. This was more her world than the city below was. She would be fine, he believed in her. He would be able to find her if he wanted to, perhaps anyway. He warned her not to wait for him though.

It was difficult to part, but it had to be done.

And now he walked through the dark streets of Vortex, seeing all with his nightvision, seeing much more than the humans and other races who walked the streets around him. He just hoped his family wouldn't come looking for him. Perhaps he had not murdered anyone. Perhaps they were better. He felt a twinge of regret for Taryn. That had not meant to happen, at all. It was a terrible coincidence that his anger fueled blow had managed to catch Taryn off-guard and slam his head into the wall. It was a unlucky blow. He was less concerned about the other man though. Another cousin of his, obviously, but Joraen did not know this man well, they were not friends. Taryns brother would have throttled him. Joraen had to defend himself. Still, with his family already angry at him and having knocked out or worse one Cousin he could hardly expect to be heard fairly after the second family member he'd dealt head injuries to. So he walked, the troubles of his life seeming to stir under his feet. Perhaps there was much truth to this. And in the meantime, a hollow ache had blossomed in his chest. He missed her already. Life was far from fair. The cool night breeze offered him little comfort. Though his mind stirred with thoughts, he kept himself alert for any eventuality.

OOC: I haven't played for a while. Just seeing if I want to get involved again. Anyone feel free to join, not sure if I need to ask for a moderator ect..