The Storm's Arrival

[Pierre Francois]

The voice was so vehement every hair on her body stood on end. She had never heard such wrath in his tone before. She was shaking as she sat in the tree overlooking the central depot. It was just one word. He had only spoken one word and yet she was reduced to hiding amongst the leaves. As if that would make any difference.

“Why?” he had asked icily.

She felt the soup rise up. Blessed be that old ranger, but her stomach couldn’t take anything since she had declined. No…not declined, she had said she would think about joining the army. There was no force in the realm that could make her decline, but to accept would mean his death. She knew what would come. Setting foot on this land she could feel the heavens darken. She had tiptoed around the matter with his friend Raina, and from the very mention of the recruiting offer she knew this storm was about to break.

“Why?” He growled.

“’ere, I…” was as far as she got before the tears choked her words off. She could feel the heat of his ire pulsing through her. Not even the childhood adoration melted the iron in his presence. He knew why. Both of them knew, but that no longer mattered. They were here.

“’ere, I’m so sorry.” She whispered into the night.

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She was sorry. He laughed bitterly. Sorry? The very mention….the bloody idea…. What in the name of the Gods was he supposed to do? So many days they had hunted and worked. Countless nights passing without as much as a whisper of who he sought. He knew what he was doing at the time. There was nothing else to he could have done. All he had asked of her was that she not torture him with this. Reduced to nothing more than thoughts and emotion, his anguish was so real he could almost feel his body ache. So, she couldn’t speak? That was just fine. He had plenty to say. He was shouting now.

“I warned you to never come here. In the beginning, I told you 'do as you like and I shall be your guide.' I only required that you, under no condition, would return me to this place. I gave up everything! Do you even comprehend what I am saying? I gave up her!”

It was all he could do. He was a boiling fury burning hotter than any God's sun. Nothing had worked as it was foretold. The bloody winds had shifted and now he was nothing more than a memory. Except to his sister. His very soul was breaking into shards. To be here and not BE here was too much. She knew that. Why had she done this? By the Gods she knew his every thought!

“Why!” he raged.

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Dear Findari, he wasn’t going to stop. She was fading in and out now. The force of his emotion nearly overtaking her mind. Her limbs were hot coals and the tunic she wore was soaked thru. She had felt him take over during hunts, but he never completely pushed her out. Now she was uncertain he could stop. Panic surged her to her feet, and she slid down the tree before she fell out. Crumpling to her knees she sobbed. This pain was like nothing she had ever felt. So hollow, how could she feel so hollow when there were two of them?

“Dammit all WHY?” he sounded like a hammer striking in her mind. Her hands rose to her ears and pressed in a vain attempt to hold her head in one piece. She knew he would never intentionally hurt her, but he was not himself anymore. Dear gods, what he had sacrificed…

“By the Gods you will answer me! Why did you bring me back!” he thundered.

“Because I was losing you Pierre!” She screamed before passing out in the dewy grass.

[Pierre Francois]

((This is something new for me, so any feedback is appreciated. I will warn you some of this will get very violent. So those with a weak stomach may want to skip over these posts if I do this right ))

“Something is burning. By the Gods I can’t breathe!” Hazy shadows move through her vision. She blinks and chokes on the smell of potash. She feels rigid. Every inch of her immobile, but her skin is crawling. A cold sweat breaks out across her face and she hears loud popping as steam rises. A figure sharpens in her view. Dark robe, slender limbs writhing and loping. All she hears is a high buzz penetrating her mind as the flames roar.

“It has a face. I must see its face,” she thinks desperately. Despite the yearning the figure moves out of range replaced by another equally distorted and contorting. This one holds something. She can almost discern a shine? Oh, but the searing in her legs! Her eyes water and the figure disappears momentarily, before reemerging now inches from her. Throwing back his hood and sneering with barbed teeth. Ashen hollows give his visage a ghoulish air. His linear ears sparkling with silver chains pierced through from tip to lobe. Flames writhe in his eyes and she realizes the buzzing is a loud keening from the figures. Her scream comes without warning.

His mouth widens in glee. The dark one recedes into the swirling light as more figures wrestle something into view. Now there is another scream. It is not hers. She is unable to draw breath at the sight before her. The dark one, crooked and keening facing three of his brethren as they restrain a fourth figure. The captive struggles uselessly against their barbed grasp. Slick with sweat and blood his chest gleams in the flickering light. The magical brand laid bare for the dark one to behold. Her brother is foaming with rage. Thick rivulets of blood flow freely from his face and torso. She is so abhorred by the sight she can no longer feel the sear of the flames that threaten to devour her. Every inch of skin has been flayed open save his brand. Still he fights as if to tear the dark ones apart by will alone.

“What have I done?” She thinks feverishly. Visions swarm before her eyes. Spectral paintings, glimpses of the recent past. Her in Gobiath, meeting Pierre’s new family. The forested hut on the mainland where she studied the tragedy of her parents. Reading Pierre’s parchment on a splintering bench outside an Orc tavern. Her brother wrote her regularly. Her brother had told her to stop looking.

"It is our history!” she had written back. “We know we are part Elven now. Don’t you want to know more? What that means?”
“Not if it involves dark elves, Sis. I have seen the Gods more than once due to their trickery. You cannot trust them.” He had quilled.

Her brother’s pain brought back her senses. In a blink the visions disappeared and she was again looking at her brother crying out. The Dark one had begun cutting.

She wakes up curled into a sobbing ball beside the depot.

[Pierre Francois]

The dove had returned matted with blood. Pierre had only been in Runewick a short time when the dove practically fell from the sky. His chest clenched when he scooped up the cherished animal, and he began running for the nearest alchemist. Drow’s blood. Dammit all his sister had gone to the Drow! His mate, Evie, had been out of the realm, and he had no time to try to find her or purchase a new dove. So he grabbed the latent ruby he had just found and etched a message in it for her. Hoping he would pass someone he knew on the way, he packed a few supplies and took the boat to the mainland.

Three days took him across the sea and north through Orc lands to the home of the Drow. With enough coin anything can be learned. So it was that he found himself hiding in a tree outside of a craggy cave. He didn’t know what he expected, but it wasn’t this. He knew the figure walking out of the cave. Someone from Gobiath. They were aligned with the Drow? Gods how had he been so dense? What did this mean for his family back in Gobiath? His sister never had a chance. Had this been a ruse all along? He watched the figure move out of sight into the forest. The sun was low and torches had been lit around the entrance to the cave. He could just make out the flickers of torchlight inside as well.
“I have to see where she is before I make any attempts to rescue her,” he thought and waited for nightfall to begin his entry.

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Pierre made his way through the warren of caves silently with his short sword in hand. The Knights of Gobiath and the Town's Guard had trained him well. So far he hadn’t encountered any Drow. Something was very wrong here. Carvings left half done, meals buzzing with flies, and broken tableware told him they had moved out fast. What the bloody hell was going on? And where was his sister? He followed their tracks and shortly began to follow the sound of the Drow Clan to an opening just ahead. Flattening himself against the stone he crouched and leaned around to get the lay of the room.

This wasn’t a room. This was a ceremonial circle. He recognized it from one of the many lectures Raina had given during Evie’s training. The night sky was barely visible through the dense canopy of trees. Twelve Drow and a Shaman were keening in the torchlight. Dark robed and glittering with stolen jewels they were chanting back and forth. In the center of the circle stood a tree and the moment Pierre laid eyes upon it his blood ran cold.

The visage of his sister with her long auburn hair and willowy limbs was staring back at him from the tree. A memory flashed through his mind of when he had first come to TrollsBane. He had spent 3 days as part of a cavern wall thanks to a Skelton Mage. And now his sister shared his fate in the ceremonial tree.
The Drow went silent as Pierre slid back into the shadowed hall to form some semblance of a plan. There was no way he could have been seen. Still he held his breath and waited. A high scratching voice called out in the darkness.

“Pierre Francois, join us. We have been preparing for you”
He froze as solid as the rock that had become his nickname.

[Pierre Francois]

The hideous shrill continued, “Come now ‘Ere….Surely by the parchments of your sister you know we are kin. I can smell our blood pumping swiftly under that fragile skin of yours. We have spent much in preparation of your arrival. What is it you humans say? Oh…yes, have a heart.” A chorus of laughter erupts from the assembled Drow.

Pierre steps into the light of the circle and stands tall. Reflections of flames and shadows dance on his armor. He holds no weapon, though is far from being unarmed. His eyes scan the Drow stopping briefly on the tree and then move to the Shaman. “You have a strange way of welcoming kin.” He growls looking pointedly at the tree that holds his sister.

“Ah yes, your sister Genevieve. Well, she became how do you say? Agitated when our Gobiath visitor arrived. We did try to help her stay calm, but our friend…well they decided she needed some time to think. We really have taken great pains to keep her comfortable. She is after all….family.”

“Somehow I doubt that. Either way, it is time to release her.” Pierre’s hands move closer to his body yet remain half open. His entire body is taught with energy. As he replies he takes in the placement of the Drow in the room.

“Agreed, brother!” The shaman grins showing wickedly pointed teeth and claps his hands. “Now it is time for your part.”

“My part is to take my sister home.” Pierre responded

“Oh, and you shall.” The shaman steeples his long gnarled fingers. “First, we have some business to take care of.”

“No, first ye let Genevieve go.” Pierre says slowly. The Drow in the room are completely motionless now. Sweat beads and falls along their blackened faces. However there is no mistaking the energy that is humming in the circle. The torches are burning straight without flicker and the air is thick with emotion.

The shaman took a step closer and smiling broadly spoke without malice, “Dear brother…I could do that… but then Evie would die.”

Pierre’s hands clenched white as all the blood drained from his face. “Evie” the word came out as a whispered plea. A chorus of thoughts ran through his mind. She’s safe, she is with Uhuru and Raina. No, wait she is in another realm! The stone he had etched pressed hard against his chest under his breastplate. By the Gods! He had not found someone to get it to her. His life would end if something happened to Evie. This last thought galvanized him.

“If anyone so much as touches Evie, I will end you all” Pierre said simply.

[Pierre Francois]

“Yes, yes, it is as we thought. Your love is blinding your good sense. Well that is no worry. We have struck a bargain on your behalf. It is in our favor to keep her alive for now.” The Shaman made a slight gesture towards the ground with his left hand and an ornately woven wooden chair appeared. Sitting the Shaman crossed his legs beneath the dark cloak and he lays his elbows on the arms of the chair, once again tenting his fingers as he speaks.

“You see magic, as you know, is powerful. Your “family” as you call it has two mages. Our friends in Gobiath feel that this is just too much power for one family. Furthermore, your mage, Evie, showed us just how powerful she was when she made her oath to you.” The Shaman takes in a deep breath his nose flaring as his head leans back. In one motion the chests of the assembled drow rise as if they too are breathing in the same breath. “Aah I can smell the essence coming off you in waves. Did you know her bond was blood magic? Do you even comprehend the power in that brand on your chest? No, I suppose you would have no idea. Make no mistake they could have killed her, in fact, they will if you do not acquiesce. But so much power, it would be a waste to have it leave that way. No, no we found a better way. We will bring her to our side.”

“She will never help you, nor will I.” seethed Pierre his hands unclenching once again.

“Oh, Pierre, even the Drow, as you call us, know the most powerful emotion is love. An emotion made even more potent when that love is lost. How devastating it will be when you never return to her? Think of your family and the strain it will put on your loved ones. Your family will fall apart and thus, with time, the bitterness will bring her to us.”

“You know nothing of family!” raged Pierre.

In a blink Pierre’s right hand whipped the dagger in his belt at the Shaman catching him in the chest. A guttural scream came from the direction of the chair. In the same breath Pierre’s left hand drew a second dagger and plunged it into the neck of the closest Drow. He yanked down splitting it open as he pulled the dagger free. Blood poured and shot forward extinguishing the closest torch. His right hand drew his sword and Pierre ran it through the stomach of a third drow as it charged him from his right.

“Enough!” cracked the Shaman’s voice. The remaining Drow were stopped midstride in their advance on Pierre. Nothing moved, the only sound was Pierre’s heart pounding in his ears and the slurp of his swordblade retreating from the now dead Drow warrior. The Shaman stood slowly and mumbled something in a language unknown to Pierre. The gnarled hands of the Shaman circled around the dagger and a green light began to emanate from the wound. Slowly the dagger inched itself backwards until it fell on the dirt in front of the Shaman. The green light pulsed and then disappeared leaving the Shaman whole again.

[Pierre Francois]

Slowly, with an almost sweet tone, the Shaman spoke. “Pierre, have you forgotten your sister?” His arms begin to rise slowly as his voice gets louder. “Do you not want her free? And really, do you honestly think you can overtake all of us!”

Bright light appears overhead making Pierre look upward. Incredibly what he thought were tree trunks turn out to be the gnarled inside of the cave. Above him from hundreds of entries torches burn held by Drow warriors laughing down.

Steely fingers grab his arms tightly and Pierre begins to struggle to get free as still more clamp on his legs. The Drow Shaman pulls a torch from its holder near the inside of the circle and tosses it at the roots of the ceremonial tree.

“NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!” Pierre screams as he watches the bark face of his sister contort with pain. Two Drow approach him and begin removing his armor despite his attempts to struggle free. Once the plates are thrown aside they rip his shirt off and stand back. Even the torchlight does not dim the iridescent shine of the branded Phoenix that covers his chest and the word “Pyro” beneath it. A collective gasp is drawn from the Drow.

The two warriors that face him produce whips from their belts which they hold up for Pierre to see. Each end is splayed into hundreds of strands each with a metal barb attached to its terminus. Grinning they step back and let the leather whips unfold. The hands binding him drop him on his stomach and quickly secure iron clamps over his wrists and ankles. Adding chains they pull him in all directions at once. The voice of the Shaman is suddenly hisses in Pierre’s ear. “You took our blood. Now we will take yours.” While the warriors cheer on the torture at first eventually, as the hours pass, the only sounds that remain in the cavern are Pierre’s involuntary screams, the grunts of the Warriors, and the cracks of the whips.

[Pierre Francois]

When he awoke he felt nothing but pain. Searing blistering pain with every breath everywhere. They must have turned him over at some point, because the only area of his body not crying out was his chest. The pain, however was not what woke him. Pierre’s eyes flew open at the sound of his mate’s name.

“Evie will bow down to me. I will take her and make her a drow’s mate. Wake up, you human scum! Did you hear me?” barked a Drow Warrior. His glassy eyes’s were less than an inch from Pierre’s own. Anger masked the pain for an instant and Pierre rammed his head into the Drow’s face breaking his nose and sending him reeling backwards.

“Keep her name out of your filthy mouth” Pierre growled. The full force of his injuries became apparent again and his head fell back to the dirt. He could hear footsteps coming closer. A shadow passed over him and once again the hiss invaded his ears.

“Good you are awake. Now that we have built the fire up, it is time to take what is now ours. Your bond, shall become our bond. Your love and all the power that flows with it will be ours. But fear not, I did promise you could take your blessed sister home. However, it will be more like her taking you home.”

Pierre listened to the shrill cackle that followed trying to gather any strength he had left. He said nothing, instead he tried to focus on his breathing and the anger that was welling inside him.

“When our ritual is complete your bond will be with your sister. A fitting family. There is of course one very important rule. You see, we cannot have someone else undoing our work. So should you get any thoughts of telling your mate, though I don’t know how “you” would, you will cease to exist. Then both your sister and your blessed Evie will be left alone.” The Shaman spoke unintelligible words and then walked away.

[Pierre Francois]

As his senses began to return Pierre noticed the air was filled with the acrid stench of potash. They had not moved him from where he had been trapped. Now there were only thirteen Drow visible and they seemed to be dancing? They moved in strange contorted spasms and chanted a shrill buzzing of words.

Suddenly Pierre was hauled to his feet and he was able to see the tree. They had built a bonfire around the tree. Flames licked halfway up the trunk and steam popped from the bark in jets. The leaves had begun to wilt from the heat and every so often a limb would crack into flames.

Iron hands picked him up by his arms and legs. Pierre suddenly had the very real fear of never seeing Evie again and he began bucking and wrenching himself in every which way. His captors brought him within ten feet of the tree where the Shaman was walking back to meet them. His eyes gleamed in the torchlight and the buzzing continued around them.

“Dear brother I would say this will not hurt, but that would be a horrible horrible lie.” The Shaman’s teeth grinned as he held up a Merinium dagger and then began to cut into the skin around Pierre’s brand.

Pierre howled in pain. He didn’t want to make a sound, but he couldn’t move. So tightly were his captors holding him, his limbs had gone numb. He could do nothing but make sound. He yelled out of misery, out of loss. He yelled out his love, and he screamed for the Gods. Finally with one last cut the Shaman pulled away the brand and held it up for Pierre to see. The iridescence blazed with light. Pierre blinked through the tears unable to understand why it was so bright.

The Shaman grinned again and began chanting louder as he turned and walked up to the tree. He held out the severed skin and two drow walked into the flames and nailed it to the tree. Shivering in pain they returned and crumpled on blistered legs. The Shaman turned to Pierre “You did well Pierre. Such emotion, such pain, so very much power. I promise I won’t kill Evie…but I will show her our love.”

Pierre cried out "I will bloody end you, you bastard!! Evieeeeeeeee" as the Shaman turned back and walked into the fire. Placing a hand on the tree he screamed out unintelligible words. The brand grew brighter and brighter around the Shaman’s palm. The air grew dense and Pierre found it hard to breath. With the sound of a thunderclap the brand exploded into a brilliant light that, in the blink of an eye, spread and flattened everything in sight.

[Pierre Francois]

When she awoke Genevieve raised her head slowly and looked around. She couldn't believe her blurry eyes. Never had she seen destruction like this. Slowly she raised herself into a sitting position. Gods she hurt everywhere. She was sitting on a huge pile of ash. Everywhere around her skeletons lay broken and burning. One still held her ankle and she violently kicked it off. A sparkling by her foot drew her eye and she saw the ear chain the Shaman had worn.

She was so stunned at what had happened that it took her some time to realize she was naked and alone. The walls of the cavern were scorched. Looking up as far as she could see there were pieces of skeletons hanging on the wall and falling out of entryways. A searing throb brought her attention back to her chest. She looked down and then blinked stunned.

There branded across her breasts was an iridescent phoenix and the word “Pyro” scripted underneath. She now had her brother’s brand! Oh my Gods she thought. Where was Pierre! She looked around frantically running from one bone pile to another. At last she figured out where they had caught him and looked through the bones. She saw his red dagger, the sword the warriors had taken from him, and a latent magical gem. She picked up the gem and ran her fingers over it as her tears fell. Dusting off the gem she noticed etching on one side. “Lo## ### Py##” She held the gem in her fist as she began to make her way to the wall.

“No, go left.” Her brother’s voice called out from what seemed like everywhere.

“Pierre!! Where are you” she twirled around seeing nothing but ash and skeletons.

“There is no time, go left there is an entryway behind the stone. Run damn you!” her brother barked.

She ran.

[Pierre Francois]

It was 3 years to the day from that horrible night when Genevieve walked into Galmair. Pierre had been a brooding presence in her mind since the moment she left the ship. During the first year he had shown her different ways to hunt and forage. They had changed her name because they couldn't take the chance of anyone tracking them. After the first year Pierre’s voice had become less and less prevalent in her ears.
She knew he was grieving. She had felt it since she had awoken in that charred mess of a cavern. Every day that passed the hole in her seemed to get deeper and darker. At some point he just stopped speaking all together. She could feel him with her, but he no longer engaged. Genevieve felt his pain and guilt and her own added to the struggle. He had made her promise to not return. He feared for Evie and the rest of the family. She feared for them and her brother as well. Finally she decided that this was something they could no longer deal with alone. Something had gone wrong with the ritual. Something had destroyed that clan. Maybe that meant something could be done. It was with this small ember of hope that she had begun the journey back. Surely no one would recognize her and when she had arrived no one did.

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It was 2 days before they saw Evie. Genevieve had walked into town as usual and began to go around the Alchemist shop when every fiber of her being began to feel like it was burning. She looked up and saw Raina standing at the depot with a few others she did not immediately recognize. Pierre on the other hand saw the red hair and immediately knew who it was. With every breath she took Genevieve felt smothered. She stopped walking as the Elfess looked up and Geni turned right heading for the depot by the merchants.

She had reached the depot and was kneeling beside it panting when she heard Raina come up behind her. The burning feeling had eased, but not by much, and she could still smell potash on her breath as she turned to greet the Elfess. Everything else became a blur when Geni thought back to it. Raina’s keen senses had quickly surmised there was a problem. She had reached out and Geni fell backwards nearly crawling on hands and feet to keep distance between them. It was as if the closer the Elfess came the more Geni’s skin burned.

Looking down she saw the inky tree branches were flying down her arms, and she could feel them moving across her body. “Pierre, calm down!” she thought frantically and took some deep breaths. She was almost ready to stand again with Evie walked up with another Elfess. Pierre’s emotions surged through Geni like molten lava. She could see smoke begin to rise from her arms where the branches curled. It was as if the branches themselves were catching fire! The brand on her chest was sizzling hot and seemed to be fueling the smoke. At some point she noticed she was once again alone with Raina, but it seemed to be too late. Smoke was billowing off her. Geni started to choke and gasp for air. The scent of potash rose in waves around her and her arms sparked and crackled with flames. "Dear Gods I’m on fire!" she thought in the grip of panic. She curled into a ball her hand reaching for the gem that had stayed with her all those years. She managed to drop it before the flames took her into blackness.

[Pierre Francois]

If Pierre were in his body he would have been grinning from ear to ear. He saw her! Finally! He had seen her, and by the gods she was more beautiful than he could ever remember. She had walked up in a conversation with another Elfess and had been asked to go somewhere else by Raina. Pierre chuckled to himself. Evie had been madder than a Dwarf whose beer had been swiped.

He’d always thought her hair turned a shade redder when she was angry, and although it may have been the torchlight he was sure it did then. Pierre could hear Geni saying something to him, but he wasn’t paying attention. He couldn’t, SHE was right there in front of him! Not a day had passed that he hadn’t thought of her. Wondered what she was doing and if her magic had returned. Did she have a student yet? Was she still studying and taking care of everyone?

He had kept himself sane by recalling many of the moments they had shared. Cooking in the Academy, hunting with Raina, time spent talking in the woods by moonlight. He could smell the way her skin heated when she was cooking and laughing by the fire as they made steak and rabbit for the next day’s hunt. Or the spicy taste of her kiss after a long day spent with family and the townsfolk. He tried not to dwell on these things, he knew Geni felt guilty, but this was his life. The one person he had sworn, vowed, to never give up. Pierre didn’t realize the effect of his emotions until he heard Geni scream and saw the flames rise up.

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It had taken hours to wash the ash from her skin. After she had finally scrubbed herself clean in the creek by the mine, Geni had slipped back into town to retrieve some food and items for the night. Walking past the guard house she felt Pierre stir. She smiled to herself thinking of all the letters he wrote about working in Trollsbane.

“If you had a chance, would you go back to the guard?” she asked him silently.
“
No. If there were to be trouble I would stand by them, but my place would be with my mate.”

“Wasn’t she trying to become elected to something in Bane? I would think you would then.” Geni thought quietly as they passed the Smithy.

Pierre seemed to sigh inwardly, “At one point. I don’t believe she would do it again unless she felt there was no other way to be sure the town was cared for properly. Even then someone, probably one of her sisters, would have to push her through the door.”

She heard him chuckle for the first time in ages and smiled. “So if that happened you wouldn't join the guard even then?”

“Ah, I think you have forgotten that I am you and you are I, dear sister. And we have been gone quite a long time.” He quipped wryly.

“Just wishful thinking. Well would you?” she pressed playfully.

“No…not unless she asked me to join. I know it sounds strange that I wouldn't just jump in and hold the fort, but I was looking forward to having a family. Putting down stakes and becoming a part of something far bigger than myself. A man cannot properly do that if he is always thinking of his duty and war.” He trailed off.

She had reached the depot and retrieved their things. Quietly they slipped back out of town and into the night.

[Pierre Francois]

They had used the transporter and walked to a large overgrown tree. Climbing up deep inside the high branches Geni had made a warm spot with blankets and her lantern. Pierre had moved to the back of her mind and seemed to be quietly thinking. It was, she noticed with a soft smile, the first time she wasn’t overcome with emptiness as he retreated into thought. It was not possible to be ire with Pierre over what happened in Galmair that day. He even seemed to sound like the brother she known all her life.

Earlier when the smoke and flames had overtaken her she had screamed out of fear rather than pain. Yes she had found a lover off and on when she was studying or during her ill-fated journey. So, she was not naïve to the yearning of her heart nor the heat of passion. Which is why she was so surprised at the well of emotion that flooded her when Pierre saw his mate.
The fine hairs on her arms and legs had stood on end and her heart jumped into her throat. Her skin had felt alive as though continuously caressed by the lightest of touch. Closing her eyes at the memory she gasped out a breath.

The brand had propelled a warmth throughout her that swam into a blaze. She had been able to hear the grass grow taller against her cheek, the wind brush her ears, and when Raina had reached out nearly touching her hand… Dear Gods. It felt like a bolt of lightning shot through her. The slightest whisper of any touch was driving her mad. She had scrambled back not out of fear of the Elfess, but fear of the unyielding emotions that overcame her. She couldn't think, didn't want to fight, and was completely at the mercy of her brother’s bond. Geni had curled into a ball unable and not wanting to move. Passion, lust, love?… none of those words seemed to fit the energy that had tightened her muscles and taken her breath away. “Dear brother how did you live with such a fire inside you?” she mused quietly. “Is that how love feels? I had thought I’d known….understood.” She shook her head and gazed at her lantern.

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He was remembering the Gray Rose. They used to walk up hand in hand speaking among the silvery shards of moonlight and tall embracing trees. She would be telling him of the day and often her adventure with one or both sisters. He would listen and look down, with a smile now and then, to watch the light in her eyes while the shadows of the trees played along her face. As they would approach the worn stones of the castle, he would gently move his arm up and draw her close. Then they would open the great oak door and slip inside together.

The entry always smelled of lamp oil and tanned leather. Once in a while they would stop and speak to the merchants about new armor or a passing remark on how well they tended the fields. Often they would inquire about their families, and give coins to help some of the aged servants. This was their place of peace. When the heavy door closed and their eyes adjusted to the candlelight the worry of the day was always forgotten.

With a smile and bowed heads they would move into the carpeted halls and find themselves in the grand library of the Order. Among the leather-bound history and guarded by knights long forgotten they would light the fireplace and settle against one another on the rich soft flooring. They would talk of dreams and wishes and things they dared never to say to others. A soft laugh would lend a caress, the caress receiving a lingering kiss…

Pierre smiled and slept deeply for the first time in three years.

[Pierre Francois]

((I'm opening this rp up to those of the "family" and those whom I have spoken to about this thread. Also, I'd love to see a plotting character who would be the "Gobiath friend at the Drow Cavern." take on the adventure Hope you are enjoying))

[Pierre Francois]

Her cloak billowed out as she walked towards the Inn. Geni clenched the fabric and hurried her pace. She did not want to be seen. Not before she could understand what, if anything could be done. Time was of the essence and she did not wish to stray from her purpose. Reaching the door she grasped the handle pulling with an exhalation of tension.

The smell of aged ales and torches immediately washed over her. Looking around the splintered, pitted chairs and tables Geni saw who she had come to meet. Sitting in a shadowed corner a slender hand beckoned her to sit. Geni moved over with a casual step trying to mask the fact she was shaking inside. She removed her hat, dropping it on the floor and took a moment to catch her breath. Her companion smiled briefly but with a tension that kept Geni on guard. Closing her eyes, Geni steadied herself for the task that must follow.

Over the next few hours, whispered words spun the tragedy that had befallen Geni and her brother. Explanations of why there had been no contact, and what spurred the choice to eventually return. Her companion seemed composed throughout the worst of the details, with only a soft whisper that belied her shock. Although, at times Geni felt the wariness of the one who heard her, she became confident her words were taken as truth. Geni’s only regret was somehow in the transmutation of the ritual, Pierre no longer knew who he saw walk from the Drow’s cave.

Having to speak of the horrors of that night seemed to put her back in the burning tree. Her cheeks were warm and wet as she finished with her plea of assistance. Standing her companion beckoned her into the comfort of a hug and gave reassurances. With a bow of her head Geni slipped from the Hemp Necktie Inn and let the winds guide her into the night.

[Pierre Francois]

“Why?” he whispered.

“Pierre…” she spoke softly as a sad smile crossed her lips. “I told you, I was losing you.”

“Not this way…” he was hoarse with the emotion of the night. The toll the evening had taken on both of them was immense. In a wooden cabin on the edge of town she had told their story one final time. Surrounded by the power gathered in the room she had found the strength to lay her fears aside and speak the truth. As she spoke she had watched his family bear the burden of her words. That in itself was almost more heartbreaking and horrific than the cruelty she spoke of. Now laying in the soft bed and surrounded by stone she had no more energy left to move.

“What the lady said was true Brother. I have known for some time now that I am dying.” She continued in a soft whisper. “Having you with me is tearing me apart.” He was silent. She knew he could not argue this point. Both had felt the gaping hole that pulled inside her. She was colder each day, every movement was a struggle. Pain had begun to tear at her from inside. “You burn so very bright Pierre…and at the same time your grief is the darkest emotion I have ever known. You cannot live away from her, and I cannot live with you here.” He said nothing, but she could tell he was listening. “I cannot let you bear this burden anymore. Trap or not I had a choice, you did not.”

“It’s been three years Geni. We both surely have changed. She must have thought me dead or at the very least a damn bastard for leaving. I don’t even know if she will have me back.” His voice was barely audible in her ears. The last words a plea they both knew was baseless. When Pierre had begun to lose his hold on his emotions during the story and the smoke had begun to rise. She had come running whispering things that calmed him so quickly. Geni had never known anyone who could bring him peace in less than seconds. From a boy his temper was known throughout their town.

“‘Ere…I have spent my life looking for our family. You have spent yours looking for a way to create a family. Seeing her and your sister, hearing Evie’s words tonight… I know I am making the right decision.” She was so calm this time. There was none of the fear that had overcome her as when the flames had risen. He still held hope that what happened next would give them both a chance. Geni saw the truth in the woman’s eyes when she spoke to them, telling them where they stood. Geni had looked beyond the woman to Evie and saw the answer. Acceptance was instantaneous. There was no decision to be made.

“You have given me the greatest gift a soul could receive. So many people and families I have met on my journey and none had what you feel. This way I know if things do not turn out as they should, it is for reasons between you both, no one else.” She gave a wry hoarse chuckle. “By the Gods, I cannot tell who needs who more, her or you. If this will help, I cannot deny you this chance. You are going to have to set me free.” He said nothing, he was nothing more than a quiet bodiless presence in the back of her mind. Yet, in that moment she could feel his warm arms around her giving his heat to keep her warm. All that was left was to wait.

[Pierre Francois]

The smell of potash permeated his mind. All around him were torches and Drow contorting and chanting. His every movement created searing pain as he struggled to get free. The iron hands that held him were impervious to the blood and sweat that gave him slight movement in his limbs. The dark hollowed edges of the Shaman’s face swam into his view grinning with blood dripping from its mouth. The ear chain jangled with its movements as the Shaman turned and walked towards a wooden post where Geni was tied. With a last sneer at Pierre the Shaman plunged the merinium dagger into her chest and cut out her heart. Blood spurted and flowed as it removed the organ that still seemed to pump in its gnarled hand.

Pierre shot up panting. He was sitting on a bed in a stone room with arcane symbols drawn on the floor. He quickly checked to see if he roused Geni, but she was still fast asleep in their mind. The body that he breathed air into was shivering with exhaustion and damp with sweat. Ever since the meeting with the mages he had woken each night with a different version of the nightmare. He gently laid back down and stared at the ceiling pulling the covers up.

Guilt was not the right word, but it was all he could think of. He was heartbroken at what was happening. At the same time he would not stop it. He loved his sister, of course he did. However she too paled in comparison to his life with his mate. He hated himself for it, but the truth was not going to change. Given the chance to have one more breath with Evie or keep his sister alive, his mate would always win. “What kind of Gods rule such a world?” he whispered to himself.

To make matters worse he could not recall who the figure was that exited the cavern that awful night. Damn it all, if there were still someone alive who would hurt his family, Pierre would tear them limb from limb. Shaking his head ruefully, Pierre knew somehow it would not be so easy. He had an elementary understanding of magic from Evie. He had relished the opportunity to share that part of her life. Even if it did mean additional chores and lectures that sometimes lasted into the wee hours of the night.

So he had a vague idea of what was going to occur. “I will be starting over…they have taken everything from me but my mate.” He closed his eyes and tried to calm himself with the knowledge that the clan was dead. Still, it did not ease the burn of the deception and all he was losing. He had hoped Evie thought him dead. That, at the very least, she would have believed in him, and his love, enough to know he would never abandon her. He was not so sure that was the case. “Dear Gods if you must take my life than do so. But please do not take her from me too.”

[Pierre Francois]

The room is quiet now. Just the soft breathing from the slender body, wrapped in covers on the small bed near the wall, can be heard. Wax drips from once tall and tapered candles whose light play shadows over the curved drawings on the floor. The books gather dust on the shelves their words silently calling out for attentive eyes. As the wax pools, voices can be heard passing outside the wooden door that stands sentry over its lone occupant. Lives pushing through the fabric of emotions that surround the voices like cloaks. The soft impressions of footsteps have left the thick carpet under the desk. Its deep autumn fibers stretching free again. A soft sizzle from the wick gives a warning of the coming darkness as the light flickers showing the calm unmoving body in its slumber. The stone walls seem to gather around claiming their prize as the light fades from the room. Quiet serenity soon becomes the only light.

[Evie]

The election was tomorrow and she was filled with equal parts worry and relief. Worry, because it appeared there was some people making moves in Galmair with not good intentions, relief because she had some very very personal issues that was going to be taking up her time. She wanted to be free to devote time to it and not be constantly pulled away by citizens.

Pierre.. he was here.. or almost. She thought he had abandoned her or had been taken away as some form of curse. After hearing Geni's tale maybe her curse theory was correct. She looks over at the elfess's figure sleeping in the spare bed. She had thought to give up the flat when her term was over, but she was going to keep it now.. Geni and eventually Pierre would need a place to go.

Looking around the magical circle and runes she had etched about the floor a almost sad look comes to her face. Once she had it all .. magic and Pierre, there seemed like nothing that would stop her and one by one they left her. This was the second time he had been taken from her.. for the first year this time she had pinned and believed he was coming back.. the second she mourned and finally tried to move on even though she failed, by the third she had come to an understanding with herself, her heart was his even if they never were together again, only he would complete her and she had to continue on her own and made her self stop believing it could be had again. Would he understand or accept what she had done? Perhaps he would hate her, or had they become two different people form the ones that fell in love in Gobaith? Whatever the case, even if he would hate her once he learned, she would do anything to see him safetly back and get him settled.

[Pierre Francois]

In the darkness behind closed eyes he waited. Geni had slipped into a mix of sleep and unconsciousness. Meanwhile he was left thinking of memories and haunting thoughts of what could happen in the future with Evie. He would drive himself mad this way and that would serve none well. Forcing his fears from his thoughts eventually his mind settled into a dream…

His fingers lightly trace the curves of her leg moving from the ankle upwards. Just letting his fingertips barely touch her soft skin he smiles as her breathing reaches his ears. A gasp and her calf flexes under his caress. Another soft exhalation when he trails his fingers under her knee. Slowly he lights his touch around her knee and smiles when he hears the sharp intake of breath. This is the moment he yearns for, the moment that wakes him from sleep, the moment that has kept him alive all this time.

She has always been so controlled. No not by others, that she would never tolerate. However her self-control could be admired by both priests and guards alike. The idea that she would slip, would somehow let that facade fall away, yielded such anxiety it would straighten her back and firm her jaw. So to hear that intake of breath meant everything to him. That breath meant that she desired to surrender. In that sound of air moving he could hear her asking him to let her lose control. A plea to let the moment take over and just be. No thoughts, no expectations, no judgments. He heard her need to be alive and free. Their love was so much more than any one act or ideal could explain. He just hoped she remembered that and remembered to breathe.

[Pierre Francois]

He hated magic.
It was one of the constants in his life since the death of his parents in his fifteenth year. The small town they lived in was burned to the ground at the hands of mages who had sold their souls to Moshran. Having taken Geni, only ten at the time, with him before the sun rose for the morning hunt had saved their lives. Over the years he learned not all who practiced were evil, but his anger continued to be fueled by the memory. His hate was a solid rock he could throw at those who threatened him or his sister.

In her twenty-first year Geni had decided she wanted to study at an academy. After years of moving from town to town he could understand her wishes and agreed. He kept moving on and, as the years passed, continued to find work in various villages and towns when he wasn't hunting. He had no training as a fighter, so only took on a brawl in defense. Usually he was able to talk his way out of most heated issues. However, when it came to mages or his sister the gloves came off every time.

Eventually he found his way to the town of Trollsbane. The day he arrived was eventful and looking back, Pierre couldn't help but think the Gods played a hand in it. He had no sooner entered the town when he met a striking blonde woman clad in armor. She was in a conversation with a gentleman outside the inn when Pierre walked up. There was no doubt the man was enamored with her and Pierre could understand why. He could appreciate a beautiful woman when he met one and yet, other than a polite introduction, he felt no compulsion join in their conversation.

He was just excusing himself to explore the town when her sister came down the path from the inn. Fresh from her books and seeming slightly annoyed at being pulled away she brushed her windblown red tresses from her eyes and joined the others. Pierre had almost stopped in his tracks. Unlike her sister she was beautiful in the way a rare gem glowed, but new to the city and hungry he was eager to get the lay of the land and hunt for his next meal. So, after a quick introduction to Evie he moved on.

The deer were sparse in the new land and a roaming pack of wolves soon took Pierre to Cherga’s realm for the first time. Her acknowledgement and dismissal happened so quickly he was still dizzy and confused when he awoke at the cross. Opening his eyes he saw red hair silhouetted in the light of the cross and a soft hand reached out to offer aid. Later on he would think on the irony that the more demure and controlled sister was so brave as to approach death without fear. The greater irony was still unknown to him.

Over the following weeks Pierre spent more and more of his time with the sisters. He learned the basics of town life, laughed at their banter, and found himself becoming protective though considerably less skilled. He caught himself looking for ways to extend their time together. Moreover, he was inexorably drawn to wanting to unfold the story that was Evie, who by Nargun’s laughter was absolutely determined to keep him at staves length.

What caught him was the enthusiasm, the overabundance of joy at what she cared about. Be it gathering honey, baking pies, or the grey world that she saw rather than his black and white perspective. The determinism that burned in her eyes made her glow. That is why he named her Pyro. That inner fire came from some well that blazed when she allowed herself to just feel. Slowly, through patience and questions, she let him have glimpses of the source of that light. By the time he found out her chosen path, Moshran himself could have been her guide and he wouldn't have cared. Then again, that would never have been the case. Which was all the more reason for his ability to let go of his irrational grudge against magic.

Now, years later, it seemed magic was his only hope.

[Pierre Francois]

Geni awoke with more energy than she had felt in months. She sat up feeling the soft weave of the bedclothes and, lighting the bedside candle, looked around the room which had become her refuge. The warm glow made the space feel comforting, ebbing over the books and desk. Passing her gaze over the worn stones of the floor she observed the chalked circle and various elements that had been scattered from her arrival. She smiled at the thought of the lady who had so generously given this space to her and Pierre.

Nodding to herself she felt a peaceful ease spread throughout her limbs and it gave her the feeling of weightlessness. She stood and moved towards the door, careful to step around the drawing and stopped as she reached for the doorknob. A slightly sweet and spicy scent hung near the chair and doorway.

She stepped closer to the chair and turned facing the bed inhaling once again. A soft smile crossed her features. “Seems we had company brother…” She could feel Pierre slowly smile as he quietly sat in the back of her mind. A calm acceptance had filled the space between them over the last few days. Taking one last look around, she took in a deep breath and moved back towards the door with a soft whisper. “It’s time for you to come home brother.” Geni quietly opened the wooden door and slipped out into the corridor.

[Pierre Francois]

He was losing control. He had been back for almost three dwarven days and the feeling was gnawing at him, bit by bit. Such fury, at the trap, the clan, the conspirators, at the loss of time, the loss of his sister, at the loss of Evie to another man, the loss of himself, and at the pain…everything was pain. The damned scars from the whips had risen on his skin the moment he returned to Galmair. Although they did not bring physical pain, every time he caught sight of his arm or hand he felt the thwack of the whips’ barbs.

Pierre found he was spending more and more time training his body to fight. Mercilessly pummeling creatures with his bare hands to feel something other than anger. He itched for release. The moments he had with Evie were tempering his lust to lash out, but the night was long and there were so many reminders of what fueled the growing blackness inside him.

Logically, he knew the fault did not lie with him nor her. He couldn’t blame her, nor would he. She had done nothing wrong. However true that may be, he was bitterly jealous of the time and closeness the other man had with her. As much as he wanted to be rid of the thoughts, he couldn’t let it go. He saw the man and wanted to throttle him, just beat him till nothing remained but the wet sounds of fists.

The other night one of the army had bumped into Pierre either by mistake or boyish taunt. Such things would have made him laugh in the past. Instead what he had wanted to do was fling the man against the wall and pin him with the pick-axe in his hand. Pierre had actually visualized the actions.

Despite this Pierre, in each instance, had remained calm and dismissed his feelings. He wanted so badly to return to the man he was. The man who had an inner calm born of an intensity that could not be matched. The intensity too, was lost for now because it was borne from more than just his feelings. It came from both of them. He could see it beginning to rekindle, knew that in time he would once again feel whole. He worried it would not be in time.

In the first year after the ritual he had fed on the darkness. There had been many a man who had committed such cruelty that Pierre had felt justified in pushing forward and taking control. Walking past the alleys of taverns and run down towns had provided plenty of rapists and murderers. The branches that snaked across Geni’s body had been the perfect cover in the darkness. The justice had been slow and merciless. Pierre had made them cry out and scream as the drow had done to him. Slowly, he began to see the toll it was taking on his sister. Another flame to the tinderbox that had become his mind. He, and he alone, had killed his sister.

Three dwarven days, and Evie was talking with him in the tavern. Listening, understanding, loving, all that he ever wanted, and yet he felt unworthy. As if the blackness that lie inside him could not be allowed to touch her light. He was scared of himself now. Scared of what he would do if he lost control, and scared to find out who he would do it to. He was holding onto her hand and looking into her light as if it were the only way home, and perhaps it was.