[u][b]Evelyn Keove[/b][/u]

The night was consumed in a flurry of paper. Evelyn tore through her old books, surrounding herself with text and arcane symbols atop the desk in her rented room. She had to get to the bottom of this. Oh, she would simply not rest until she knew [i]what[/i] he was. Yes, this Wrensthav individual called himself a relic collector, but there was more to it. All her life she had never come across such strange, potent magic. It behaved differently, it's make-up was alien. 

Her books came up with the wrong answers. No, it couldn't be dragon magic. She knew that magic inside and out, and it was far more transparent than anything she saw within Wrensthav. The next answer was deadric magic, which implied Wrensthav was something purely evil to torment mortals. That didn't seem right, and Eveyn discarded that idea too. 

[b]"White sand... White sand... His scent, the ambrosia. What does it mean?"[/b] She asked herself in building frustration. [b]"What is he? No mortal could possess that infinite-like magic, no matter how alien."[/b]

She snarled, throwing the book on dragons across the room. It hit the wall with a satisfying thud, sliding down in a heap on the floor. Her feet paced in perfect circles while she brewed, the grace of an elf not lost despite her fits of anger. For a long time she thought, but she couldn't come up with anything conclusive as the first rays of dawn began peeking over the hills. 

Evelyn let out a sigh, retiring to her bed for a short time. Elves naturally didn't need much sleep, not that they actually did. Evelyn remained aware of her surroundings, but her head began to swim with dream-like hallucinations. She watched with mild interest, focused mainly on relaxing. After three quarters of an hour, Evelyn got up and splashed some water on her face.

With the sun fully embracing the sky, Evelyn raised the hood of her robes back to the top-back of her head where it would snugly remain. She clipped a leather belt around her hips that holstered her sword. The sheath hid its actual design, but just the shape of it gave away its elvish origins. She also took a small satchel, filled it with the few books and things she brought, and slung it over her shoulder. With a quick glance about her room, Evelyn walked out the door with a nod. Leaving the Honeyden behind, she made her way out of Bastille and up the mountain trail to the shrine. 

[u][b]Mattien Arior[/b][/u]

His mace urged him awake in the dead of night, scarcely before dawn showed its face on the sky. It glowed vehemently from across the room, pulsing in veins of orange-red. Mattien struggled awake, instantly recognizing Ra-Shin's direct influence. 

[b]"I will be on my way, Master."[/b] He said sleepily, rising from his sheets even though all he wanted to do was roll over and sleep off the rest of his hangover. Unfortunately, he'd simply have to power through his building headache. 

Wringing out a wet cloth, the colossal warrior wiped down his naked body and dragged a comb through his long hair. He donned his clothes and armor quickly, strapping his (still impatiently glowing) mace to his back. With a satisfied huff, Mattien left his room and made his way out of Bastille. 

The morning light crept into the sky as the warrior, bitterly rubbing his temples, came upon the mountain shrine. It was a long path to almost nothing, the shine being no less than a circular stone in the earth, about 14 feet in diameter. Three stone statues of a curious nature were at the far end facing the entrance, tall enough to tower over Mattien's head. The entire shrine was encircled by large elm trees. 

As he took in the scenery, quiet footsteps came up from the path behind him. He turned to see the Battle Mage herself, geared up and positively stunning in the sunlight. He was speechless. 

[b]"Finish your prayers and be on your way. I have business here."[/b] The elf said, her voice smooth as silk. 

Mattien broke into a grin. [b]"You misunderstand my intentions, mi'lady. You're the one I've been waiting for."[/b] He pulled his black mace from off his back, brandishing it proudly as he fell back in a defensive stance. [b]"I am Mattien Arior, and I wish to travel with you, Battle Mage!"[/b] 

The elf simply scoffed, conjuring an elegant, semi-translucent blade in her hand. It glowed a light purple, and she flipped it around in her hands expertly before pointing the tip at Mattien's chest. [b]"Your eyes will not see this, just forewarning you."[/b] 

Mattien opened his mouth to disagree, but a gust of wind stopped him. He blinked, and watched with horror as one of his golden locks fell from his hair. His hand reached for it in vain as it dispersed on the breeze. [b]"My... Hair..."[/b]

Evelyn twirled her blade again, having closed the distance and sliced him in the time he closed his eyes. She had no time for playing around. 

The elf turned her back to him. [b]"You're dismissed."[/b]

Mattien's fury rose sky high. No one, and he meant, no one touched his hair. Tapping into his god's power, Mattien slammed his mace into the circular stone, cracking it. A dark, pungent aura encircled him as he glowered at Evelyn. [b]"Again. Come at me again."[/b]

The orange-red magic Evelyn could see rippling off the warrior seemed to pique her curiosity. She faced him, conjured sword raised. [b]"Hm... You're not all you seem either."[/b]