Previous: Silver Aversion, Post 7
(Content Warning: Violence, Xenophobia, Use of Poison, Body Horror, Themes of Despair)
Daedalis ran free, bounding through the autumnal forest with extraordinary, almost preternatural, speed. His lithe, agile frame moved in concert with the wind and leaves; his every step matched the curvature of the terrain and cleared every jutting root and obstacle. His long, powerful legs ate the ground between him and his quarry and he danced through the spaces between the falling, fiery foliage. They, too, danced in his wake, livened to spin and twirl a little less lazily than before, when the wood had been quiet and absent of the hunt.
The human who ran before him spared him a backward glance and fairly bleated like a frightened sheep. The chain shirt it wore would take its toll on its endurance eventually and it would begin to slow. For now, the human's fear only spiked its adrenaline and it momentarily pulled away from the wild elf. Normally, Daedalis would prefer a slow hunt and the chance to savor the poor creature's fear. He had even tried to convince the Council that such an approach was the right and proper course of action when dealing with interlopers. The guardian believed that Fear (with a capital 'F') was the best long term demotivator for this sort of behavior. The Council disagreed, calling the tactic "unnecessarily cruel." The standing law was to capture intruders as quickly as possible and firmly escort them to the border.
But if they ran...well, accidents do happen when clumsy non-elven lawbreakers run pell-mell through the deep wood. And so it was that Daedalis made his best effort to overtake this particular runner. As he ran, he slid his twin tomahawks from their holsters at his hips. His face was a mask of pure concentration and his long, dark hair streamed out behind him. His prey was weakening, slowing, but he was just beginning to warm up. Still, he took no particular pleasure in the hunt. For him, it was mostly about his duty to these lands and, if was honest with himself, a little about the disgust he felt that any human would dare to pollute it with its presence.
The human turned as it ran, waveringly raised a hand crossbow, and with a strangled cry fired a bolt at the center mass of its pursuer. The shot was surprisingly true but Daedalis was faster. The dexterous elf had begun turning even before the bolt had left the flight groove and, as a result, the steel tip barely grazed his left ribs. The wild elf hardly even acknowledged the sudden sharp bite of the bolt as it passed him by. Unfortunately for the human, the concentration it had taken to aim the shot lessened its focus on footing and it stumbled full speed into an outstretched root at the edge of a medium sized clearing.
The human flung forward out into the clearing and down hard upon its face. The doomed creature's impressive momentum pushed it through the detritus for several feet before flipping it end over end and depositing it to a rolling stop very near the center of the clearing. Several bones had loudly snapped during the disastrous fall and the human's limbs lay akimbo about its broken body. Somehow, the hand crossbow had splintered and a thick shard of it was now embedded in the chest, near the collar bone. Thick, dark blood seeped out under the human's jerkin and began to pool onto the ground beneath it.
Daedalis saw the fall but never slowed. Instead, he took two short leaps from the ground to the fallen corpse of a maple to the lower branch of a standing tree. From there, his own momentum carried him out into the open air above the clearing. As the human groaned and blinked its eyes open, it saw the persistent elf hung suspended in the air a good ten feet above, his legs curled in bracing for a landing and his twin axes crossed before his chest. The human interloper would never have time to think about how majestic his executioner looked as he fell toward him through the spinning, winged maple seeds that filled the air between them. Daedalis landed atop his prey's torso and, in the same swift maneuver, tore the blades of his tomahawks in opposite motions across the human's throat. A brief gurgle of blood and a few moments later, the light in the human's surprise widened eyes faded and flickered out.
Daedalis stood and nodded in satisfaction. As he shook the blood from his blades, he noted the crossbow shard implanted near the neck and decided calmly to report the incident as a mercy killing. He'd have to find and destroy the bolt the human had fired but he was fairly certain the Council would buy the story.
A large brown bear wandered slowly into the clearing. Daedalis caught its eye and gestured sharply down at the corpse at his feet, then swept his hand outward toward the forest. The bear almost seemed to nod in understanding before trundling over and picking the corpse up by the ankle in its powerful jaws. The massive creature then proceeded to drag the human body from the clearing and disappeared into the forest in the general direction of the southern border. Daedalis nodded again and turned back to begin his search for the missing bolt.
Strangely, he suddenly felt sluggish. The adrenaline drained from his system and he lost feeling in his legs. Poison? He quickly examined the wound in his side but the blood flowed clean there. Daedalis felt the icy hand of fear close around his own heart as his vision began to blur at the edges, then clouded over completely. Within moments, the wild elf completely lost consciousness.
Daedalis pushed back the darkness and fought to regain his senses. It was difficult to move, as if he were bound in some way. The sun dappled patch of autumnal wood was gone. It was night, the elf thought. Slowly, he could begin to make out the familiar shapes of tree trunks. But something was amiss. They were...twisted, somehow. The bark was jutting and...blackened. There was faint light here, after all. A soft, green glow, like that produced by the underground fungi in the eastern caverns. It seemed to be emanating from everywhere and it cast weird shadows that swayed in its pulsating light.
The elf tried to push the haze from his mind and focus on his new, strange surroundings. Massive cables wound themselves in a hundred directions on the forest floor, each glowing with a ghoulish green light. That's where the pulsing was coming from. The glowing green ropes wound themselves about trees and plunged in and out of the earth, covered in places by fallen leaves. The leaves were blackened, as though they had been set on fire, but oddly enough, they seemed whole.
Daedalis strained and pulled but something held him fast. He was strung up beneath the canopy, he could see, several feet off the ground. He couldn't feel his legs and this worried him.
He strained harder against his bonds and something popped from the base of his neck. Warm, sticky fluid flowed slowly down his back. He shuddered at the sensation but was pleased to note that he had greater control of his head now. He looked down. At first, he couldn't make sense of what he saw. The glowing green tendrils seemed to originate from directly beneath him. Then it began to dawn on him and the memories began to slowly trickle back.
He had hunted that human more than a thousand years ago. And many more besides. Not poisoned, he realized, nor captured. This was Amaranth, the Enduring Age. Daedalis Sylvanheart looked down at his ruined body again and remembered his legs had long ago rotted away. He remembered that he was, in fact, the source of the glowing green vines. He saw now how is torso hung by its arms, head, and chest, strung up in the canopy, the vines punching in and out through his skin, muscle, and bone. His druidic life force was pumping through the vines and into the surrounding forest, keeping the plague of undeath at bay. His final act as guardian. The vines pulsed with his heartbeat. Pain and grief tore through him. How many times had he awoken from his dreams to this hellish mockery of life?
Daedalis Sylvanheart opened his mouth to scream but no sound issued forth from his rotted out vocal cords. Only a quiet, eerie green glow filled the small clearing as the wild elf guardian wailed silently and struggled weakly against his eternal bonds.
Next: The Bounty, Post 9
(Content Warning: Violence, Xenophobia, Use of Poison, Body Horror, Themes of Despair)
Daedalis ran free, bounding through the autumnal forest with extraordinary, almost preternatural, speed. His lithe, agile frame moved in concert with the wind and leaves; his every step matched the curvature of the terrain and cleared every jutting root and obstacle. His long, powerful legs ate the ground between him and his quarry and he danced through the spaces between the falling, fiery foliage. They, too, danced in his wake, livened to spin and twirl a little less lazily than before, when the wood had been quiet and absent of the hunt.
The human who ran before him spared him a backward glance and fairly bleated like a frightened sheep. The chain shirt it wore would take its toll on its endurance eventually and it would begin to slow. For now, the human's fear only spiked its adrenaline and it momentarily pulled away from the wild elf. Normally, Daedalis would prefer a slow hunt and the chance to savor the poor creature's fear. He had even tried to convince the Council that such an approach was the right and proper course of action when dealing with interlopers. The guardian believed that Fear (with a capital 'F') was the best long term demotivator for this sort of behavior. The Council disagreed, calling the tactic "unnecessarily cruel." The standing law was to capture intruders as quickly as possible and firmly escort them to the border.
But if they ran...well, accidents do happen when clumsy non-elven lawbreakers run pell-mell through the deep wood. And so it was that Daedalis made his best effort to overtake this particular runner. As he ran, he slid his twin tomahawks from their holsters at his hips. His face was a mask of pure concentration and his long, dark hair streamed out behind him. His prey was weakening, slowing, but he was just beginning to warm up. Still, he took no particular pleasure in the hunt. For him, it was mostly about his duty to these lands and, if was honest with himself, a little about the disgust he felt that any human would dare to pollute it with its presence.
The human turned as it ran, waveringly raised a hand crossbow, and with a strangled cry fired a bolt at the center mass of its pursuer. The shot was surprisingly true but Daedalis was faster. The dexterous elf had begun turning even before the bolt had left the flight groove and, as a result, the steel tip barely grazed his left ribs. The wild elf hardly even acknowledged the sudden sharp bite of the bolt as it passed him by. Unfortunately for the human, the concentration it had taken to aim the shot lessened its focus on footing and it stumbled full speed into an outstretched root at the edge of a medium sized clearing.
The human flung forward out into the clearing and down hard upon its face. The doomed creature's impressive momentum pushed it through the detritus for several feet before flipping it end over end and depositing it to a rolling stop very near the center of the clearing. Several bones had loudly snapped during the disastrous fall and the human's limbs lay akimbo about its broken body. Somehow, the hand crossbow had splintered and a thick shard of it was now embedded in the chest, near the collar bone. Thick, dark blood seeped out under the human's jerkin and began to pool onto the ground beneath it.
Daedalis saw the fall but never slowed. Instead, he took two short leaps from the ground to the fallen corpse of a maple to the lower branch of a standing tree. From there, his own momentum carried him out into the open air above the clearing. As the human groaned and blinked its eyes open, it saw the persistent elf hung suspended in the air a good ten feet above, his legs curled in bracing for a landing and his twin axes crossed before his chest. The human interloper would never have time to think about how majestic his executioner looked as he fell toward him through the spinning, winged maple seeds that filled the air between them. Daedalis landed atop his prey's torso and, in the same swift maneuver, tore the blades of his tomahawks in opposite motions across the human's throat. A brief gurgle of blood and a few moments later, the light in the human's surprise widened eyes faded and flickered out.
Daedalis stood and nodded in satisfaction. As he shook the blood from his blades, he noted the crossbow shard implanted near the neck and decided calmly to report the incident as a mercy killing. He'd have to find and destroy the bolt the human had fired but he was fairly certain the Council would buy the story.
A large brown bear wandered slowly into the clearing. Daedalis caught its eye and gestured sharply down at the corpse at his feet, then swept his hand outward toward the forest. The bear almost seemed to nod in understanding before trundling over and picking the corpse up by the ankle in its powerful jaws. The massive creature then proceeded to drag the human body from the clearing and disappeared into the forest in the general direction of the southern border. Daedalis nodded again and turned back to begin his search for the missing bolt.
Strangely, he suddenly felt sluggish. The adrenaline drained from his system and he lost feeling in his legs. Poison? He quickly examined the wound in his side but the blood flowed clean there. Daedalis felt the icy hand of fear close around his own heart as his vision began to blur at the edges, then clouded over completely. Within moments, the wild elf completely lost consciousness.
Daedalis pushed back the darkness and fought to regain his senses. It was difficult to move, as if he were bound in some way. The sun dappled patch of autumnal wood was gone. It was night, the elf thought. Slowly, he could begin to make out the familiar shapes of tree trunks. But something was amiss. They were...twisted, somehow. The bark was jutting and...blackened. There was faint light here, after all. A soft, green glow, like that produced by the underground fungi in the eastern caverns. It seemed to be emanating from everywhere and it cast weird shadows that swayed in its pulsating light.
The elf tried to push the haze from his mind and focus on his new, strange surroundings. Massive cables wound themselves in a hundred directions on the forest floor, each glowing with a ghoulish green light. That's where the pulsing was coming from. The glowing green ropes wound themselves about trees and plunged in and out of the earth, covered in places by fallen leaves. The leaves were blackened, as though they had been set on fire, but oddly enough, they seemed whole.
Daedalis strained and pulled but something held him fast. He was strung up beneath the canopy, he could see, several feet off the ground. He couldn't feel his legs and this worried him.
He strained harder against his bonds and something popped from the base of his neck. Warm, sticky fluid flowed slowly down his back. He shuddered at the sensation but was pleased to note that he had greater control of his head now. He looked down. At first, he couldn't make sense of what he saw. The glowing green tendrils seemed to originate from directly beneath him. Then it began to dawn on him and the memories began to slowly trickle back.
He had hunted that human more than a thousand years ago. And many more besides. Not poisoned, he realized, nor captured. This was Amaranth, the Enduring Age. Daedalis Sylvanheart looked down at his ruined body again and remembered his legs had long ago rotted away. He remembered that he was, in fact, the source of the glowing green vines. He saw now how is torso hung by its arms, head, and chest, strung up in the canopy, the vines punching in and out through his skin, muscle, and bone. His druidic life force was pumping through the vines and into the surrounding forest, keeping the plague of undeath at bay. His final act as guardian. The vines pulsed with his heartbeat. Pain and grief tore through him. How many times had he awoken from his dreams to this hellish mockery of life?
Daedalis Sylvanheart opened his mouth to scream but no sound issued forth from his rotted out vocal cords. Only a quiet, eerie green glow filled the small clearing as the wild elf guardian wailed silently and struggled weakly against his eternal bonds.
Next: The Bounty, Post 9