Post by LucienMoonmist on Oct 12, 2004 21:16:36 GMT -5
((Well, school has allowed me a brief time of typing more than a few lines, so I figured this would be the appropriate time to provide a long overdue end. So, once more with feeling...))
*Lucien sighed softly fro mthe small rise as he looked across the ashen, crimson tinged fields of southern Windstorm. His ice blue eyes scanned from those moving about the smouldering woodlands to those who walk amongst the fallen and wounded. His form a stark contrast against the grey clad skies which stood behind the rise from which he had but days earlier witnessed the fall of the "invaders". As he stood in contrast to the horizon it's self, so did he stand at odds with his own normal appearance. His normal, seemingly meticulously, kept apperance now was in mock shambles. His grey and green clothing was tinged both crimson and ashen. A band of cloth tied about his arm, also decorated on those hard earned colors, lay half covered now by his wild and tossed hair. Any who knew him would find it easy to see the weariness within his eyes and the slackening of his frame. The past while had toiled hard upon him. Looking about those of his blood which milled about, he knew he was not the only of his kind to be casting such a reflection in the eyes of others now.
This day however, he gazed about his kin, about his people with a purpose. Taking a deep breath, he would have given nearly anything to not have to perform the duty he knew he must, but it was his duty as their Scion, as their leader, as their Brother. It was on this rememberance with which he took a measured breath, letting his weary eyes close. No rest was found to him then, for his voice began to ring across the southern woods and fields, a soft, somber note, slowly growing in depth and volume. By the finality of his breath, the note rang mournfully between the trees, only to be answered in similar until there held a small harmony about the air, the sorrow of the lonely wood given voice.
Soon, his kin responded to the summons. Some bore the weapons of the fallen, others bore the fallen themselves. With a fluid grace, Lucien lept from the hill, darting to his kin and those whom had fallen. He instructed them to be placed as per custom desired, arranged as they stood in battle, row upon row, side by side, brothers and sisters within death as within life. This took more time than one should guess, Lucien made certain it did. He went to each member of his kin as they laid one of his slain kin down, speaking with them of the fallen, or of the others fallen. Slowly he began to hold witin his mind the names of each of the fallen. None this day would be held unaccounted for.
Through all of this, he smiled as best as he may, greeting each warrior with kind word and encouraging face. The sadness was held within all of their eyes equally. There would be none whom spirit was left without mourning. None questioned the Scion's decision to conduct the ceremony on the open plains as opposed to within the depths of the woodlands. Yet, despite this, Lucien felt he needed his fellows to understand his reasons. Understanding was the least that one could hope for after such an atrocity. With quick step, he returned to the hill, letting his voice rise melodically over his assembled kin*
"Come my Brothers and Sisters! Come those with whom I share voice and blood, with those whom I share wine and dance! Come now to me before our kin! Come ot those whom shall be laid to rest, forever now within the emerald groves of the Eternal! Listen to my words, hear my reasons and my voice. Understand why our Brothers and Sisters have fallen on this soil so foreign to most of you here gathered!" *Slowly he brought his gaze over his people. Each looked to him with no less than respect and loyalty. He knew they deserved a reason more than anything else.* "Here we have gathered in arms, in blood, in mourning. Here you have all stood tall beside me, each to a person. Here shall I speak to each of you the reason we did enter into the struggles of the mortal powers. Who here has not heard of villages laid to waste within the outskirts of human countries? Woh has not seen the destruction wrought by those whom live but brief spanses of life? Who here has not felt the sting of sharp tonuges which speak of your lineage, and mine, with words hardly befitting a goblin? I ask you all, who here has sat and drank with those who live but brief lives? Who here has danced the night within the arms of those who experiance life in a scope with which we can never truely understand? Who here would be willing to fail on all hopes as such? Many of you I know from the court which I now rule when it was my brothers. Many of you know the words of which I speak, the words which you yourselves have told me pushed your decision to stay here amongst the mortals and not flee into Retreat with my brother." *Hopping fro mthe hill, he begins to move amongst the Elven, his voice deep and clear as he does, carrying above the noises about them* "Now we are at a point which has not been sharpened within the lifetime of an Elf. Here we stand at the crux where we are anew, we are now and here to decide our own destinies! We are here to follow, or to lead. We are here to live! As the tread between town and village grows shorter with each ten year, all of you know that there is nae enough room within this world for there to be quables over land. We are the Elven, Eternal and bonded to Nature. They are Human, Driving and bold of spirit. There are differances beyond word as to why we should nae exist together, mortal by immortal. Yet here, I give you areason which I should doubt any of you to doubt, we are all borne of Nature's will. Whether it be within the confines of a castle true, or the very heart of the woodlands, we are all of Nature's birth. Does wolf fight amongst wolf? Aye, the do. Do they forever stay at odds to the other? I speak nae. Why then should we not do the same? I have told you I would give each of you a reason for our fallen, and I shall in this: By the Will of Nature, we are all brothers and sisters. We should not feel hate or fear, nor pity or prejudice for those whom have nae yet realised such. Instead I say let us rejoice within the bonds of our shared blood, within the wisdom of Nature to see beyond the depths of time which even our sharp eyes can peer so far. " *returning to the hill, he climed it silently, gazing across the gathered assembly. As he knew, he saw not a hint of doubt within the eyes of those gathered. They would not hate humans for their fallen. He did not expect them to accept every man or woman as kin, but there were old bonds which long ago had been severed. Perhaps it was time for them to be joined anew. He sensed many here felt similar to him on this. Now however, another duty awaited them. "Now my brothers. Now my sisters. Let us pass our kin properly."
*Shifting his head to the Heavens, Lucien raised his arms high. A single note sounded from deep within him, one pure and true to it's form. For a brief moment it seemed to hang about the air as a meloncholy before it was lost within the notes from each present. Slowly, a somber melody formed within their unspoken words, the sadness seeming to linger about the air, to dance about the bodies of the fallen. There was but one interruption within the song which did not end that hazy, dull day. That interruption was the sharp snap of flint to steel, followed by the sharp twang of the Elven bows. The bolts of flame seemed to almsot drift about the air in a macabre pirouette before they impacted with the arranged fallen.
As the night descended about them, each Elf stood and sang their mournful song. The flames seemed a sharp contrast to the notes being rung by wounded or healthy elf alike. To the pride of his kin, Lucien saw that not even the wounded would reelnt in honor of their Brothers and Sisters. Such it was they sang until twighlight rose above them. T'was then the melody was allowed to pass into the waiting hands of the night sky. With soft smiles, those gathered layed the injured to lay about the flames, now stoked with wood to fan them the night through. Bottles of spirit were opened and passed about, instruments brought into tune. The spirit of the strong would never truely be broken by the loss of the body.*
*Lucien sighed softly fro mthe small rise as he looked across the ashen, crimson tinged fields of southern Windstorm. His ice blue eyes scanned from those moving about the smouldering woodlands to those who walk amongst the fallen and wounded. His form a stark contrast against the grey clad skies which stood behind the rise from which he had but days earlier witnessed the fall of the "invaders". As he stood in contrast to the horizon it's self, so did he stand at odds with his own normal appearance. His normal, seemingly meticulously, kept apperance now was in mock shambles. His grey and green clothing was tinged both crimson and ashen. A band of cloth tied about his arm, also decorated on those hard earned colors, lay half covered now by his wild and tossed hair. Any who knew him would find it easy to see the weariness within his eyes and the slackening of his frame. The past while had toiled hard upon him. Looking about those of his blood which milled about, he knew he was not the only of his kind to be casting such a reflection in the eyes of others now.
This day however, he gazed about his kin, about his people with a purpose. Taking a deep breath, he would have given nearly anything to not have to perform the duty he knew he must, but it was his duty as their Scion, as their leader, as their Brother. It was on this rememberance with which he took a measured breath, letting his weary eyes close. No rest was found to him then, for his voice began to ring across the southern woods and fields, a soft, somber note, slowly growing in depth and volume. By the finality of his breath, the note rang mournfully between the trees, only to be answered in similar until there held a small harmony about the air, the sorrow of the lonely wood given voice.
Soon, his kin responded to the summons. Some bore the weapons of the fallen, others bore the fallen themselves. With a fluid grace, Lucien lept from the hill, darting to his kin and those whom had fallen. He instructed them to be placed as per custom desired, arranged as they stood in battle, row upon row, side by side, brothers and sisters within death as within life. This took more time than one should guess, Lucien made certain it did. He went to each member of his kin as they laid one of his slain kin down, speaking with them of the fallen, or of the others fallen. Slowly he began to hold witin his mind the names of each of the fallen. None this day would be held unaccounted for.
Through all of this, he smiled as best as he may, greeting each warrior with kind word and encouraging face. The sadness was held within all of their eyes equally. There would be none whom spirit was left without mourning. None questioned the Scion's decision to conduct the ceremony on the open plains as opposed to within the depths of the woodlands. Yet, despite this, Lucien felt he needed his fellows to understand his reasons. Understanding was the least that one could hope for after such an atrocity. With quick step, he returned to the hill, letting his voice rise melodically over his assembled kin*
"Come my Brothers and Sisters! Come those with whom I share voice and blood, with those whom I share wine and dance! Come now to me before our kin! Come ot those whom shall be laid to rest, forever now within the emerald groves of the Eternal! Listen to my words, hear my reasons and my voice. Understand why our Brothers and Sisters have fallen on this soil so foreign to most of you here gathered!" *Slowly he brought his gaze over his people. Each looked to him with no less than respect and loyalty. He knew they deserved a reason more than anything else.* "Here we have gathered in arms, in blood, in mourning. Here you have all stood tall beside me, each to a person. Here shall I speak to each of you the reason we did enter into the struggles of the mortal powers. Who here has not heard of villages laid to waste within the outskirts of human countries? Woh has not seen the destruction wrought by those whom live but brief spanses of life? Who here has not felt the sting of sharp tonuges which speak of your lineage, and mine, with words hardly befitting a goblin? I ask you all, who here has sat and drank with those who live but brief lives? Who here has danced the night within the arms of those who experiance life in a scope with which we can never truely understand? Who here would be willing to fail on all hopes as such? Many of you I know from the court which I now rule when it was my brothers. Many of you know the words of which I speak, the words which you yourselves have told me pushed your decision to stay here amongst the mortals and not flee into Retreat with my brother." *Hopping fro mthe hill, he begins to move amongst the Elven, his voice deep and clear as he does, carrying above the noises about them* "Now we are at a point which has not been sharpened within the lifetime of an Elf. Here we stand at the crux where we are anew, we are now and here to decide our own destinies! We are here to follow, or to lead. We are here to live! As the tread between town and village grows shorter with each ten year, all of you know that there is nae enough room within this world for there to be quables over land. We are the Elven, Eternal and bonded to Nature. They are Human, Driving and bold of spirit. There are differances beyond word as to why we should nae exist together, mortal by immortal. Yet here, I give you areason which I should doubt any of you to doubt, we are all borne of Nature's will. Whether it be within the confines of a castle true, or the very heart of the woodlands, we are all of Nature's birth. Does wolf fight amongst wolf? Aye, the do. Do they forever stay at odds to the other? I speak nae. Why then should we not do the same? I have told you I would give each of you a reason for our fallen, and I shall in this: By the Will of Nature, we are all brothers and sisters. We should not feel hate or fear, nor pity or prejudice for those whom have nae yet realised such. Instead I say let us rejoice within the bonds of our shared blood, within the wisdom of Nature to see beyond the depths of time which even our sharp eyes can peer so far. " *returning to the hill, he climed it silently, gazing across the gathered assembly. As he knew, he saw not a hint of doubt within the eyes of those gathered. They would not hate humans for their fallen. He did not expect them to accept every man or woman as kin, but there were old bonds which long ago had been severed. Perhaps it was time for them to be joined anew. He sensed many here felt similar to him on this. Now however, another duty awaited them. "Now my brothers. Now my sisters. Let us pass our kin properly."
*Shifting his head to the Heavens, Lucien raised his arms high. A single note sounded from deep within him, one pure and true to it's form. For a brief moment it seemed to hang about the air as a meloncholy before it was lost within the notes from each present. Slowly, a somber melody formed within their unspoken words, the sadness seeming to linger about the air, to dance about the bodies of the fallen. There was but one interruption within the song which did not end that hazy, dull day. That interruption was the sharp snap of flint to steel, followed by the sharp twang of the Elven bows. The bolts of flame seemed to almsot drift about the air in a macabre pirouette before they impacted with the arranged fallen.
As the night descended about them, each Elf stood and sang their mournful song. The flames seemed a sharp contrast to the notes being rung by wounded or healthy elf alike. To the pride of his kin, Lucien saw that not even the wounded would reelnt in honor of their Brothers and Sisters. Such it was they sang until twighlight rose above them. T'was then the melody was allowed to pass into the waiting hands of the night sky. With soft smiles, those gathered layed the injured to lay about the flames, now stoked with wood to fan them the night through. Bottles of spirit were opened and passed about, instruments brought into tune. The spirit of the strong would never truely be broken by the loss of the body.*