Gilthånås

"Daddy, can you bring me some candy when you come home tonight?"

"Of course son. Don't worry, I won't be long." Came Gilthånås' reply. He ruffled his son's hair as he slid his coat over his shoulders and put his hat on.

"I just have to go deal with some business a few blocks away.". With that, he was gone, stepping out through the door of his suite and vanishing from Gilthås' sight.

              "Evenin Sir." chimed a well dressed elf as Gil approached the stagecoach the man was currently sitting on top of.

"Evening Selerius, how are you this evening?"

Much of the Company noticed my growing belly, now that I am almost halfway along and have gained eight pounds. My armor fit me like normal until yesterday, when this bulge popped up in my sleep. Why does this child think he can just roll around and stretch out my abs, rubbing against the backside of them until it is smooth and comfy? I may have created the little thing, but that doesn’t give right to abuse my insides.

                "Ahem.". The Eulogist cleared his throat.         

"Niari Soth was a proud woman, a devout follower of the light...A loving wife...A doting mother." He glanced in the direction of the late elf's family as he talked.

"She strove to do good. In a time of turmoil she was a pillar of normalcy to her family. She was charitable, she always gave to those in need and asked nothing in return.

              "I'm not going to be here much longer Gil..."

The half-elf shook his head, his bloodshot eyes staring at his wife, his hands tucking the covers tighter around her to make sure every bit of warmth stayed within the bed.

           "You don't think this will end badly?"

"Why would it dear? he's bound to be as smitten with you as I am."

Gil couldn't help but smile as Niari led him by the arm up the stairs to her manor. What a year. He'd often thought he'd end up falling for another half-breed like himself...or a human woman. But Niari...She was perfect. His eyes followed the gossamer gown clinging to her petite frame, his eyes glinting as they met hers and they stopped walking for a moment. They stood there for what seemed like an eternity before they continued up to the manor's oaken double-doors.

"Have you told him that you're pregnant yet?" Gil inquired curiously.

((Finally getting around to writing up a more detailed version of Gil's backstory, which'll be released in several parts enjoy!))

                      Silvermoon was busy. It was always busy. The city bustled with activity like a beehive. Indeed, with all the gold-plated doorways and spires it must have looked like sections of massive honeycomb from the air. To the nation that called Silvermoon its capitol, the city was its pride and joy. To one particular child living in the centre of the city-center...It was misery.

"Half-blooded filth!"

One word.
               Four Letters. 
Yet it binds me more than chains ever dare to.

        Love. 

               One word.

                             Four letters.

                                                Yet it binds us more than the strongest chains could ever dare to.

Love doesn't mean always agreeing.

       When was the last time he'd taken a minute for himself?

        ((was listening to this song when the idea for the post came to me))

         He hadn't felt this kind of pain in years. His chest was sore, his eyes were bleary and his breath came in short gasps.

But it wasn't because of his illness.

Satin drapes carress my cheek as I look upon the morning dew drops glissening off the sunlit clearing of the surrounding forest from my window. The light of dawn has already passed, yet the glow of the awakening earth tingles within my eyes. My heart flutters with happiness, yet a tear runs down my silk covered arm, staining the white fabric with a very fine gray.

I'm weakening.

I don't know how to stop it.

If I can't save myself...can I save Her?

She's all I care about now. I don't want to fail again.

Not this time.

She's weaker than I.

We might not be long for this world.

But I'll happily die in her arms.

I love her.

      How close had he been? He'd endured countless hours of torture, fought his hardest and succeeded in awakening from his coma...He had severed all ties to the shallow facade of a life he'd been living and had promised himself to another. He'd been happy for once. Truly happy. 

How close had he been to having it stay that way?

Fatal.

Thats what Daps had revealed to him about this contagion he found himself infected with when the goblin had contacted him the evening before. After all of the battles the half-elf's battered frame had endured, the bouts with other sicknesses and the crippling injuries it had sustained...He would be felled by this unforeseen complication. But at least through his daughter's inoculation, he would deal his killer the greatest insult an enemy can suffer.

"Did you ever think it would come to this?"

"No." He replied tiredly, setting the syringe he'd been tampering with down on the table he was using for a desk and turned to face the speaker. It would have been obvious to anyone in their right mind that the being before him couldn't possibly exist, but to the elf it seemed normal. The man seated before him appeared elven, but cloaked in shadow, his features blackened, wisps of smoke trailing from his insubstantial form. His grin was sickening, as if the creature took pleasure in the destruction around it.

"So thats why you decided to spend your final days here...with..Her...?" 

     Fall. What a beautiful season. The Half-Elf had always loved walking in the forest every day, watching the leaves on the trees slowly change over time. It was a very tranquil way to start his day. However, it seemed as if he wouldn't get the chance to do so again this year.

He was under quarantine. 

He still wasn't sure how he'd contracted this new plague, whether it was from the girl who had approached Kade after Fancy Cakes or from Rya. He hoped it hadn't been from Rya. She'd been through a lot lately, she didn't need an illness like this on her plate.

In any case, Gilthånås had a few ideas how to soften the news of his current inability to travel. Ael's servants had lent him parchment and a quill, now all he had to do was word the letter right.

This must be what it feels like to walk on a cloud...

His heart was beating like a Seventh-legion chain gun. His face was red and the broadest grin he'd worn in a long, long time was stretched across his scarred visage. Everything was perfect. His heart was overflowing with joy. Things that had brought him down and depressed him had faded away to nothingness. He truly happy for the first time in ages. The half-elf could see the scene play over on the underside of his eyelids every time they closed.

"Get out there!" a muffled voice cried out.

( Listen to this wonderful song. )

“Regardless of the interactions performed tonight, the Silver Cross will not be held accountable for aiding you. I will be held accountable, that is all.” The words were stern as they left her lips and she had meant them to be. The exiled man nodded, looking over towards his boss for conformation.

There was a momentarily look of confusion that spread across Iloam's face- one that Caleigh caught and quickly allowed to fade. “The Silver Cross will not be responsible for aiding an exiled member of society, nor will they be held accountable for his actions. I will take responsibility for cleansing his wounds, and resetting his leg.” The words hung in the air for a long moment before the two men nodded.

((inspired by this song and recent events))

Vanity was a dead concept to the half-elf.

He'd never been vain to begin with...He was usually too busy moping or fighting to think about how he looked. In his youth he'd been attractive enough, charming too. It had lasted for a number of years, until his first marriage had ended and he'd fallen into a deep depression. A combination of drugs, alcoholism and skirmishes with other criminals and guards had given him a more forlorn, gaunt countenance following Niara's death and the third war. He'd gained scars then too. However despite all of that, he'd remained fairly handsome in a way. Two and a half tours of duty as a soldier in his parole squad had done little to change that either. In a way, his experiences had lent him a sort of melancholy air that suited him as an addicted, constantly drunk romantic.

He was lost.

No name, no memories, no sense of direction.

All he had to keep him company were bleak sky and the barren wastes around him.

Occasionally he would come across people, but they were faceless. They always seemed familiar, but in the end he could never identify them. He was scarred, disfigured and badly wounded. He bled but did not die, wept and yet no tears graced his injured visage, could hear but not speak. He was dressed in rags that bore numerous scents, all just as hard to recognize as the people he encountered. He walked for days on end, miles of rough road causing his feet to bleed ceaselessly and painfully. Eventually after what seemed like an eternity of wandering, he found something that wasn't open wasteland.

It was a grave.

“I told you all of this before If you would just listen a moment and stop accusing me of things you would have all the information you are asking for!”

Kenon hates Blood Knights, or at least pushy, in-your-face Blood Knights

(( Started from "Safe in Silvermoon?" ))

"Rya ... Rya you need to go through the portal...."

Why is there so much blood?

"Rya! Rya, go now!"

Dimetri? Where am I going? Why are you not coming? Who's blood is that? ... Dimetri?

"Don't you touch her, Sunblade!"

Who are you yelling at, Dimetri? I am the only Sunblade here ...

"Now, Kenon! Take her now!"

No, Dimetri! Don't make me leave you! No!

So simple.

Children's Week - Moriurya and Gil