The day was cold and dark in the castle. Durion sat in a chair facing the open window, deep in thought. The movement, in the canopied sky, did little to draw his eyes away from the tiniest spec of light. It seemed to be the only imperfection in the enclosure created by the treetops, it was enough to capture his mind and draw him towards the past. It was only by sheer chance that the Royal Messenger found Durion Gurtha. It had been mere days since he had taken over the family house in the grey region of the Overlook, the outermost Lithladian outpost. That particular morning, Durion was tending to the grounds, Dome, Durion's great wolf companion, assisted as he was uprooting stumps and clearing discarded prunings.
"Good day sir." A tall, long The slender hands of the messenger, long and expressive, slid through the air. They carved a precise series of movements in the air that enveloped him, a Lithladian greeting of old. This sort of thing was held in high regard in the Deep. Recieving a message from the Council was as likely as the bright rays of a burning sun casting it's cleansing light upon the faces of the dwellers of the Deep. Long-winded, but true. His pale fingers retrieve a scroll from a sack, hidden deep, in the cloak he bore.
"I am called Tre', I serve the Council and bear this message." The "Grey" region of the overlook was located on the Mid forest side of the outpost. The non-vampiric members of the Lithladian Militia resided in the more sun-lit parts of the encampment. Being a Dark Elf did not make him a Nocturnal. There was a time that Durion bathed in the light of the Mid Forest sun. There was even a time, when he was much younger, that he would steal away and watch the morning sun rise from snow-capped mountains of Mori' Re. This messenger was different. He feared the sun and the searing kiss of its light.
"Would you like to come inside?" Durion dropped a sack of clippings by his side. The sudden plop launched the scattered leaves all over the floor. "Dome... Protect us" The two, master and beast, share a brief moment. The momenatry silence, though it seemed brief, was heavy with expression and wrought with communication. The great wolf growled low as it started patrolling the perimeter. Durion's grey face glared at this cloaked figure through a silver mane, his dark grey eyes beamed a look straight through the heart of the messenger. "Y-yes. Please."
Inside, the messenger revealed himself to be a vampire. His skin almost glowed in the dark of the Gurtha home. He breathed a sigh of relief as the hood dropped. His alabaster coplexion had yellowed in reaction to the light that came from behind the distant trees. The "Grey" area proved to be more than this poor man could take. He regained his composure and handed him the scroll.
"Is this what it appears to be?" Durion's eyes were wide. The pale visitor simply nodded, his breath had not yet returned to him. Durion's lips parted, "The Obelisk Challenge. It is fast approaching... You may stay here and rest for a moment. Then I bid you return to your Master and confirm my attendance." The messenger righted himself, using the table for support. "Of course sir... Thank you. Truly kind."
The lord of the house retired to the Master's quaters and began readying his things... planning his trip... making arrangements with his sisters. Durion was settling his affairs. There was no doubt in his mind that if he didn't emerge victorious he would not emerge at all, someone was sure to dispatch him. By the time the sun fell, the messenger had disappered and Dome still stalked around the grounds as instructed. "Dome.. Come! It seems our time here has ended." Dome's ears stood straight up. His tail wagged with such furvor, a playfulness returned to the great wolf.
"The time of rest has ended... the Council has kept their word..." Durion scratched his wolf under the chin, Dome droped to the ground at his masters feet. Like a puppy, Dome tumbled and rolled exposing his belly, like he was new. "We go to Lithlad... to the Obelisk Challenge. I must finish what father couldn't." He rolled with Dome for a moment, reliving a time from memories past that are long since gone. They then stood, righted themselves, said their farewells and were on their way. The road to Lithlad was a perilous one... a plentiful bounty of evils to traverse for a seat on the council. A necessary evil for a lifetime of peace, for the peace of a soul that's been tormented for ages.
-To Be Continued-
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