Liz had risen to follow along, though not without a exasperated look toward Thortan as she called as a dog might be. She shook her head, wandering several paces behind them as they moved toward the field. She was quiet, perhaps contemplative, and during the lack of sarcastic remarks she let her gaze take in the surroundings as they entered the field. The woman had a deep connection to the shadows of her own, and as Thortan had begun his casting there was a quiet reverence. For all the teasing she did, it was obvious Liz viewed Thortan with significant respect.
Even as the shadows closed in there was a curious tilt of Liz's head, and the Lycian looked almost furtive for a split second. She had obviously heard something, yet she didn't want to disturb the training that was only just beginning to take place. She stepped lightly away from the pair in the field, and slipped through Thortan's shadowy wall to move back toward the house itself.
Caution came before all else, and despite the knowledge there were protective barriers around the property she slipped into the house with a light step, nearly silent until she was within view of the newcomer. She had peered from a distance away, and at the sight of the High Elf her slightly crouched posture had straightened. As she moved from the shadowy corner of the room preceding the entrance hall she offered the barest flicker of a smile. Yellow irises settled on the new face with curiosity.
"Thortan is outside, in a clearing with another to begin training."
Liz continued to work at her 'meal' before ultimately she became impatient with the lack of sustenance set before her and rose to find her own way to the kitchen. Assuming Thortan hadn't done anything to magically deflect her attempt to find it, the woman simply followed her nose, the scent of food drawing her to it. She'd not excused herself or explained herself, but had simply risen from her seat and wandered toward the kitchen.
She was exceptionally quiet as she retrieved a bowl of the soup he'd made, her mind working through both what she had heard and her own memories melding with the circumstances, the ways she felt she could relate. There was just barely a soft hum as she paused to search for a spoon, and within a minute or two she had taken her proper meal back to the table and settled back into place. "Moderately off topic, but I should tell you Thortan if you are going to give me bones, I do prefer the heartier animals... beef for example. Chicken bones are very splintery and weak, they don't break down well."
The barest of smirks was offered toward the dark elf before she scooped up her first spoonful and settled her gaze on Lia. "You need something more substantial than a basic teacher with such a powerful gift. Someone that has mastered many schools of magic." She glanced briefly to Thortan. She had been around enough to know who he was. The brief, knowing look had been all she offered though. "Thortan is a solid teacher. He's never trained me personally, but I know he's provided a great deal of training to the Dark Queen herself, and she has turned some of my natural affinities into something more organized through training, so I imagine he's done well."
She reflected only briefly on this, on the verbal reminder she had just given herself through this explanation. She had learned a great deal since she left the walls of Lyceum. Though she had maintained a powerful, natural gift for shadow magics, it had been almost haphazardly she had utilized it. Formal training for such was not easily found in her home region, and many of those participating in magic of any kind there adhered to more basic forms of it, if they touched the stuff at all. Her success as an assassin was largely due to these gifts, her ability to collect the shadows around her and become invisible to the average eye was precisely how she had been able to take out so many targets. Now she could do so much more with it, ranging from combat usage to idle aesthetics and illusions.
She had opted to remain silent as she thought, eyes flicking between the two if the conversation resumed and progressed. It was obvious she wasn't getting overly personal without direct prompting as well.
There was no loss of memory for Liz, and the woman was already well accustomed to the constant shenanigans of their host. It was with a stoic face she received her plate, an equally deadpan expression remaining as she inspected the bone further. Soup bones were often the largest bone of the utilized meat, and the woman appeared to be measuring up what the size of the animal might have been. There was nothing that would surprise her at this rate, and so the woman responded with as much grace as a dog-lady might.
The gift the Lycian's received provided them with a powerful jaw, and unnaturally sharp teeth, despite the fact only the canines appeared minutely changed, all of their teeth had benefited from it. So it was with this gift she had taken the bone in hand, brought it to her mouth, and found the ideal spot to break the bone open. She reclined back in her chair with an easy posture, eventually working at the bone enough she could break it in half. Without so much as batting an eyelash, the woman began sucking the marrow straight out. Evidently it didn't taste that bad.
"I can still taste the broth. The soup would be good. Had you offered any." Her gaze lingered on him for a moment, and rather than irritation there was something of a challenge there. She wouldn't rise quite so easily these days. After a moment or two she'd looked to Lia, curious to hear if she would indeed offer her story. And yes. She kept slurping the marrow straight out of the large bone--as quietly as she could, if it was any consolation to the others at the table.
Liz turned to follow Thortan inside, her gaze quickly settling on the scenery. She studied the interior of the mansion just as she had the woman outside, taking in every detail...memorizing every exit, and every hiding spot. It was the involuntary process her mind launched into anytime she entered a new structure. Her own mind was not far from Thortan's, though neither of the two realized that of course. Memories of her own were flickering through her mind. The first time she had met with the Queen it was when tensions had initially risen.
It was worth noting, in Liz's own mind, that the tensions were not without merit. Whatever she had advertised it was obvious the Queen had no intention of giving the humans any real power in her envisioned empire, and it was only a matter of time before they would figure that out. Liz had seen it quickly, and she had offered her opinion without hesitation. When the Queen had laid out her vision for Liz she could not help but be impressed. It was something she could support, and so here she was.
Those early days had been full of thrills. Constant work had been rolling in for the assassin, and she had barely a moment to spare for the sake of sleep. It was ideal, for someone like her. The waiting had her restless, irritable, and anxious. She wanted to see things moving, to watch that progress the way it should. The more reclusive Kingdoms, Liz felt, were to blame. Even her own people. To name support without providing men...it seemed pointless. Had the numbers come together properly, they would have at least matched the humans more evenly, if not managed to outnumber them outright.
A hiss escaped from her nostrils as she let her mind work through the train of thought, and by the time she found herself settling at the table she was cutting that thought process off. It wasn't much use at the present moment. Even within a mansion, even with her history working as what the elves deemed a 'royal assassin', she was far from polite. Her cloak had most certainly not been removed, nor had her weapons. Her constant attire gave off the appearance of being ceaselessly ready for a fight, and yet here there should be none. The leathers, at least, were well worn in and there was none of that irritating creaking and groaning one often heard from newer leathers. She attempted to get comfortable, waiting for the food they had been promised.
Brilliant, yellow irises drifted toward Thortan with his latest round of commentary, a sound similar to 'tchah' offered under her breath. The woman bore no fur, nor was she overtly wolf like save for the canines that extended within her mouth. Had it not been for the eyes, she'd have been mistaken as human. A sigh escaped too at the utilization of the word pup and she shook her head.
The cigarette itself had been snuffed out, her hand coming away from the hilt of her blade as she let the half finished smoke disappear in a brief swirl of shadow magic. "I won't smoke in the common areas, but I'll be damned if you tell me I can't smoke in my own room." A quiet had settled over her features as she returned her gaze to Ophelia, a brief smile coming to her lips.
[Not in 'English'!]"The god my people worship granted us a blessing based in rage, as well. Like the territorial instinct of a wolf we growl, snap and bite at those that even appear to wrong us. Calming the anger was the first step to learning how to navigate our gifts. It appears we have a thing or two in common." The words did not come out in the common dialect of the humans, but rather in the native tongue of the desert elves. It was smooth and without error, though it was the most common form of the language, and not spoken with any particular dialect in mind.
It was nearly instantaneous, and without a doubt the involuntary response after having spent so much time on the run; at the sound of footsteps padding out of the forests Elizabeth had turned, her stature shifting and one hand resting at the pommel of a blade. Had she not seen the growing glow that indicated a non-human had approached, it was entirely possible she'd have drawn her blade with exceptional speed. Her posture eased only minutely once she'd taken in the appearance of the newcomer, and two steps had been taken to offer the elven woman some space as she spoke to Thortan.
Not a word was offered, only the shrewd gaze of the Lycian. It was a piercing stare that often left people feeling as if Elizabeth was looking right through them, analyzing their every thought and breath. It wasn't entirely inaccurate, she was exceptional at reading people, but she certainly wasn't staring into the depths of their souls with a simple glare. After a moment's pause Liz brought her cigarette to her lips, taking a deep pull and allowing the near-poisonous fog to rest in her lungs for a moment or two. As the smoke oozed from her nostrils she took an additional step, to the side this time in the event they moved inside.
She made no attempt to introduce herself, nor did she reach out to offer a hand. The accent that rolled from the elven woman's tongue was recognizable. Elizabeth, the overachiever that she was, was fluent in several languages. She had no doubt she would be able to catch onto the dialect of whatever tribe this newcomer was from, though it offered little solace to the guest, as she did not voice it.
Her only commentary was offered with her typical cynical viewpoint on any god that was not her own, or Erebus himself.
"The fates are nothing more than three old gossiping women with a terrible sense of humor."
Queen Selexania is a name heard on the tongues of many; the Queen that suffered the fall of her own Kingdom, the Queen who took a God as her spouse. The only daughter of the last King of Caenia, their region, she was set upon the throne at a young age. The assassination of her father had forced maturity on her, the responsibility of the crown bringing a rapid realization of her need to rule with force. Though tall and slender, the queen bore a powerful frame. She excelled in nearly every manner of training she accepted, mastering hand to hand combat, multiple weapons, magic, and even some of the more unusual talents among their kind, such as alchemy.
During the bulk of Caenia’s most recent revival and subsequent war, Selexania had been rumored to receive the blessings of multiple deities, though what she did with those was nothing more than whispered guesses at the lips of late night tavern goers.
There was a time her Kingdom and her name were nothing more than stories told to children, twisted and changed over the years to fit the liking of whatever bard had chosen to utter it. She was no longer shrouded in mystery, though her Kingdom yet again was. Where had she gone this time?
And what do those waiting on her to squash the human kingdom do while she buries herself in dust covered tomes? That is the story we tell now.
OOC Information: Please reference the hiders below to look at the base of the universe you are in. Creative license is offered to those races outside of the mentioned below! Have fun with it! The above information is the brief cap of the Queen’s legend, a common knowledge with the ongoing war.
-Caenia: Dark Elves -Peilos: Humans -Tidus: Merchant city on the coast of a lake, multi-race. Origin human. -Vallodar: Dwarven kingdom -The Aganu Region: Water Elves -Lyceum: Humans gifted with immortality and wolfish features (not quite fur covered werewolves, see description below)
To the west of the human kingdom of Peilos rested the valley that held a wondrous, walled in city. The Elven Kingdom was something of legend, tall marble spires, glimmering magical lights that gave everything a soft, blue glow. Magic supported their way of life, the ethereal strings of energy tying the structures together in ways humans were incapable. It resulted in a place of breathtaking beauty.
The surrounding forests were no less gorgeous. The leaves that littered the area were not simply green. A variety of colors littered the canopy, violets and reds mingled with the deep green of the more typical plantlife. It had fallen as a result of a nasty war, but even the ruins were said to be beautiful. No one could know for sure during that time, because they had not been found.
When they finally were discovered, when the ruins were retaken, it was realized quickly that rumor and estimation had been incorrect. The humans had chosen to make the elves appear to be a sophisticated, highly moral race. Something above reproach, almost divine. Their introduction to the Dark Queen taught them otherwise, and the result was the current war. She was vicious as well as beautiful, she was harsh as well as graceful, and she was primitive when it was needed.
The dark elven society was a thing of careful skill. They were the ushers of chaos, the enemy of order. The humans adored order to a fault and the war that resulted was a massacre on both sides. To this day it rages.
The human Kingdom did not lack the grandeur of the Elven nation, but it certainly lacked in grace. The capital city was kept carefully behind high stone walls, a heavy metal portcullis covered by large wooden doors. If someone tried to break the doors down, they would find themselves meeting the metal bars that proved much more difficult to get through.
Though the capital stood as what seemed nothing more than a large, stone facade, within the walls there was a bustling city like any other. At rear of the city rested the keep, a fortress constructed to both house and protect the royal family and the nobles. Beyond it was the mashing of stone and wood, straw and primitive roof tiles.
An enormous fountain erected in the image of their present king rested at the center of their market square, hand outstretched, water pouring from within. It was the closest he would come to producing something by what appeared to be magic. King Sulryn was not known for his mercy or his kindness, but rather for his fierce loyalty to his own people...and nothing more.
Prior to the start of their war with the elves, the humans were known in particular for their vicious crusade against the Centaurs to their east. Many of the surrounding villages as a result of this war had defected from their kingdom, and to this day the homes stand near bare. Though it was certainly a blow to the Kingdom’s pride, it did not diminish their numbers significantly, and so they pressed on.
To the southwest of the capital city of Peilos, and just barely southeast of Caenia, rested the thriving city of Tidus. Though it’s origins were based in the human race it had grown rapidly to include a curious mix of people. Elves, centaur, lycians, dwarves, and a variety of other bizarre and potentially unrecognized races moved through this city.
Despite its name, the city did not rest on the shores of the great sea, but instead rested on the shore of a significantly large lake. A lake so large that one peering out over its surface would assume they indeed gazed at an ocean. Their love and pride for these waters lead to the name.
It is known as a place for merchants, artists, traders and people from all walks of life...though it is certainly not without its own suffering. As the conflict between the humans and elves rose, supporters of either side found themselves in Tidus. The fights that broke out were often brutal, and though they deployed no men, their own soil had been bloodied by the same war.
In present day the trade has reached a lull, the city quiet in comparison to its happier days. The eldermen wait desperately for the end of the war.
The dwarven kingdom lies even further west of Caenia, settled high in the mountains. Their reclusiveness often times has lead to their existence being nothing short of questionable, yet still they have survived the brutal cold region with their own sort of elegance…. Explosives. Known for their advanced weaponry, siege engines, machinery and … well yes...explosives, the dwarves have carved themselves a home in the side of the second largest mountain of the continent.
Their king, Douvaen, proved to be a heavy supporter of the elves, having harbored their refugees after the first fall of their kingdom. It was rare they were seen first hand in battle, more keen on hiding in the fray and delivering devastating blows with their technology...and their own legends. Stone giants.
The only dwarf that had made his face publicly known is the representative sent by their people to sit on the Dark Queen’s council--Pogahn. The result has been catastrophic, leaving even shorter humans to fend for themselves for fear they may be dwarves hiding in plain sight to support the elves.
North of Caenia and settled on the chilled coast is the region of Aganu, once an independent kingdom of water elves. The beings that thrived here were known for their unusual appearance--blue tinged hair often rippling like the waves of the sea, and a curious sea-green spark in their eyes.
Their melodic voices and beauty paired with the legend of their people often left behind the children’s stories of delicate mermaids fluttering about in the seas. Yet these elves did not become such delicate fantasy, but were known for their magical process of ‘melding with the sea’ when their time came. Rather than wither and die over time, the water elves conducted rituals at the end of their lengthy lifespan, transforming into a sea-bound entity--vicious and primitive, they were not something a sailor wanted to come across.
Those yet remaining on land were now an extension of the dark elven empire, absorbed after the death of their queen at the hands of a mysterious race of shadow-people. Though the water elves rest under Selexania’s rule, the face of their people remains with their most accomplished warrior - Ana’bael.
The rain here never stopped. It was the first thing most visitors would note...if visitors were allowed in the Kingdom of Lyceum. To say the people of the grand, walled in lands were reclusive was more than a slight understatement. Visitors were met with stone walls that reached impressive heights, paired with heavy iron-ribbed gates that, short of a miracle, were never going to open. At least, that was what the residents behind it hoped.
The outside wars had too often involved pleas to Lyceum for aid, and most often it was noted that the people sent to fight were treated like little more than disposable monsters in the battlefield. They were shields for the average human. After ceaseless attempts to negotiate better terms to reduce casualties, the King had finally decided to recede from the other kingdoms, and to cut off their allies from any assistance at all.
They hadn’t been entirely forgotten, yet their story had faded into myth. The lands they controlled were settled deep in the southern forests of tall, dense pines. Here they worshipped the wolf god--the Magna Lyceum, where they had earned their name as a Kingdom. Their god had blessed them, or so it was said, with extraordinary strength, enhanced senses, and sharp nails and teeth. They were human by brief appearance, yet wolfish in nature. They could almost pass for human, if it weren't for the most obvious feature--every Lycian had vibrant, yellow eyes.
The few that venture outside the Kingdom are seen as traitors to the other humans, and often forced out of the towns and villages belonging to Peilos. While they are in moral support of the Dark Queen, they feel inclined to keep their forces hidden behind their walls.
Once Thortan answered the door and Liz could be positive it was not some elaborate trap, she reached up to properly lower her hood. A sigh escaped, a flicker of irritation culminating in the woman giving in to the moment of humor. She had eyed him for a moment, a mixture of relief and aggravation littering her features. She still could not go home, and there was no doubt Thortan was aware of it.
"Lyceum is thriving, behind its walls. Of course. My brother sends word as often as he can."
She had paused for a moment, that abnormal yellow gaze redirecting to take in the face of the structure she stood before. A deep breath had been drawn, and almost involuntarily the woman had extracted a slender silver case from her cloak. As she popped it open the rows of neatly rolled cigarettes were revealed, black rolling paper accented with a simple purple stripe toward the bottom. It was an indication they were unusual smokables. The mixture of sweet herbs and specially crafted oils to lace them gave off an alluring aroma, even as she struck a match and let the tip flare to life. The ember glowed fiercely with that first pull, smoke erupting from her lips in a velvety cloud.
She eased visibly as a second drag was taken and held, the smoke steeping in her lungs for a few moments before she exhaled heavily and continued. "I didn't want to come, because I didn't want to lose. I feel like..." She grimaced, expression twitching once more as if she had pushed one of her own buttons. "I've not received word from you or the Queen of late, and with your most recent letter I thought perhaps taking a break from hiding might be wise."
The parchment crinkled in Liz's grip for what seemed like the hundreth time, the heavy creases starting to tatter around the edges. She couldn't help it, it had been nothing short of a godsend in her eyes. She was not unaccustomed to thriving in the forests, to settling herself beneath the trees and awaiting her next mission. Yet the Queen's current retreat had fallen back on research, and now there was a lull. She had to wait. Restlessness had driven her near mad and her subsequent venturings into the various villages dotting the region she'd lingered in last had resulted in a nasty brawl. They did not want her. She was far too dangerous to them, far too obviously not 'pure' human.
A long black cloak slithered over the foliage of the forest floor, paired with the hiss of a sigh from her nostrils. She was not tired of travel, that was difficult to manage, yet as she peered down toward the ground and took note of the worn seams of her boots she realized her leathers would give in long before she did. She needed to stop and refuel. She had been contemplating joining Thortan, she knew all to well precisely who he was, but there was something in her that screamed against giving in. It felt too much like defeat.
As she peered down at her boots and their withering seams once more she let out a sigh, pausing where she stood and looking around. She could easily turn east now and make good time in getting to the mansion he had mentioned, and she knew that he would welcome her with open arms. Not only had she received the letter, but she had also been a significant assistance to the Dark Queen herself. The parchment crinkled further in her grasp as she turned and began heading eastward, silently cursing Thortan as she went.
When she reached the will o' wisp she offered the parchment out, heavily crinkled as it was, it was obviously enough. She followed the bobbing orb of light, irritation settling into her features that she had to stop at all. Still, it would admittedly be nice to see Thortan again. He and the Queen were if nothing else considered friends by this point. There was a quiet groan as she reached the structure itself, hand sliding from within her large cloak to pound at the door. "Here I ammm..." She uttered the words in a singsong tone under her breath.
@Doc Doctor I like the overall character concept, but if I'm reading this correctly you label his origins as the Congo? We aren't on earth in this story! If there's a method of interpretation there, it could work perfectly. An obscure tribal region in the forests or something of the sort! There's room for creative license. :)
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