Shasta Daisy Story Dump---

[darkelf105]

rayechu, This story dump is mostly for you. I was going to rewrite all of this, but I wanted feed back on what parts of Shasta Daisy's back story were interesting and what wasn't and then go from there. Also, I was going to add the new stuff I wrote for Cere, but I have decided to wait. Anywho the rough order everything will go in is how the cuts are listed. I feel bad for rokk_lobster, it is taking a very loooooooooong time for me to flesh out the backgrounds for his most favoritist of characters in his campaign setting. Hahahaha, He compared Shasta Daisy to Alucard and Hanali to Seras. I was amused. He also told me if we go in and try to kick paladin ass, we will be smote....apparently something about it being divine magic and not coming from that god I wanted to take down (I know, I know we can't take on a god, but I thought maybe we could destroy his city or something.....). Anywho, this sucks, the half-demon has to go in by himself and the vampire gets left on the sideline. Hahaha, Khale and Kiriel are your back up. A grumpy celestial angel and a greedy dark elf....I get Walter ::le sigh:: and the jentaur. Also, apparently the resistance has a vampire AND a werewolf. Neat Huh? Also, if you are not rayechu, feel free to comment as well, the more feedback the better!

 Shasta Daisy, best picture yet........

In the darkness at the world’s heart, there is a city born of shadows. The inhabitants of this city have a made a deal with darkness and so are bathed in its blackness. They are beings of night, whose souls were once drenched in the light of the sun. They have been plunged down into, this, their subterranean purgatory, the Night Below. They wait for light. They wait to reclaim what was once theirs. Their hunger for conquest matches only their love of blood. They wait in vain, for their race will never again know the surface.

This is the world of the drow, of dark elves, of elves that have fallen so far from grace that they only resemble their surface cousins in only the most superfluous of physical features. Some call the dark elves shadows, only figments of the imagination, but there are those on the surface who remember. They remember the war they fought ten thousand years ago. They remember the fall, and so they fear what waits in the darkness. They closed all entrances into the Night Below within their forests. They slammed down so much dirt and stone that anything looking for the light would only choke on the dust of rubble. And yet, time dims even their ancient, far-reaching memories. They fall into reverie uneasily, those who do at all.

Even time sits uneasily on the minds of the dark elves that dwell here. The shadows erase the memories of what these drow once were, taking them deeper into darkness and madness. They live to slaughter each other in the shadowy halls of their cavern city, reaching for glory and power amongst the ghosts of once noble elven houses. They do not remember the war easily. They do not remember K’elden nor the human invasion. They do not remember the slaughter that led their ancestors to flee the sunlight and haunt these dark, weird caverns.

Some did though. Some remembered the ancient remnants of power, of pacts rendered between demon and elf, between a darkling goddess and those who fled the wrath of the sun. Tibithia, eldest of the dark elves who dwelt within this underground city, remembered, but only the most vague of whispers. She had dug long and deep for the knowledge she now possessed. And she intended to use it, to become power incarnate.

Tibithia looked out over the city from her balcony perch. She was but moments away from the convening of the Council, and that was when she planned to put the first phase of her plan into effect. She would convince the elders of the houses that the surface must be retaken. She would remind them of the glory that they once possessed, of the land, the wealth. She would remind them that they lived in a cave and that there was a whole world for the taking. She only had to push a little, after all.

The drow nobles had grown restless. Warfare between the houses had escalated. Three of the more minor houses lay in smoking ruin, all members of the household dead or sold into slavery to the victors. There was only so much for ambitious families in this cavern, only so much plunder and power. But that could be changed. She would remind them of why they had gardens of gem flowers and why their halls and sacred spaces glittered with tiny points of light. Few remembered what these things really were. But Tibithia would rekindle ancient memories of star shine and the smell of growing flowers. No, it would not take much for her to convince them to raise an army and go to the surface. And from there, it would not be hard to convince the council that a gate to the surface would be the best way to transport an army of dark elves. After they built the gate and put their army into, it would be too late to stop what she had planned, and then all of the drow remaining in the city would be reminded of why the dark elves had made a compact with the darkness. Dark elves, after all, understood power, and unlimited power was what they craved most of all.

Tibithia smiled as she put her silver death mask on. She knew that many found it disturbing that she wore the trappings of the grave, but Tibithia wore the heavy, featureless mask to remind herself that her old life was dead. After she had found what she was seeking in the ancient scrolls of long dead ancestors, Tibithia had known that her life was changed forever and she would no longer be what she had been. She was going to be more, so much more.

NEXT PART 

New Chapter One?

Dazlo, of the Third House of the city Night, was not particularly thrilled to be at this meeting. He was, in fact quite furious and his anger made his eye tick behind the velvet mask that he wore. He should not have been here. Liphena should have come herself. If it had not been for the ban on killing each other the council probably would have slain him and sent his head back to her. Liphena was playing a dangerous game. "Dazlo," said the muted voice of Tibithia, the eldest member of the council, "what is the status of the gate?" Dazlo looked at the silver death mask of Tibithia, its featureless ovoid making the woman even more intimidating, and resisted the urge to scowl. The tight fitting velvet of the mask he wore still showed all of the contours of his face and the First Councilor would know exactly what he thought. That was not something any dark elf wanted another to know. What went on in one’s head stayed in one’s head; dark elves as a rule did not trust anyone, even one another.

"The gate still needs work. My house’s resources have been tapped and they are being stretched very thin. Gating an army up to the surface through all of the stone and radiation that lay between us is not wise or advisable. May I suggest that we use a different means for transporting our army?"

"No!" hissed Tibithia, her voice sibilant and strong. "Any other means would leave too many of us dead to march against the elves. Going through the tunnels of the Greater Night to reach the Stars Above would prove a useless act in futility. Too many would die, due to the emanations and the creatures. One Reaver can kill a hundred. You know that as well as I. The horrors that lurk in the Greater Night are the reason we have never expanded outside this cave. It is the reason that we were almost wiped from the face of the world after the Great Injustice."

"Yes First Councilor, but we could also use the river and take that approach."

Tibithia pounded her fists on the table. "Again, your stupidity and lack of foresight astound, Dazlo. The river comes out from the Night Below squarely in human lands and two hundred leagues from the edge of the elven forest. What would happen if the humans discovered our army? Do you think there would even be enough left to make it to the edge, let alone conquer the forest and take back what is ours?"

"But gating is just as dangerous…if it closes everyone inside will die. Besides, if the gate is discovered while we are building it, well, the traitors are no fools."

Tibithia turned her blank, metallic visage to Dazlo and said, "The traitors have not thought about us for ten thousand years. They have not dealt with us except in ones and twos and the few treacherous fools that eschew our noble race and return back to the traitor’s world. They will not expect an army. They will not know what to do. Finish the gate, do what you must. But finish it." Dazlo kept his face neutral and tried not to betray his true feelings. The other members of the council all turned their masked faces to him expectantly.

Dazlo stood and clenched his right fist over his heart, bowing low as he did so. "It will be as you command. I will tell Liphena that she needs to finish the gate. My house will do it."

Tibithia’s gleaming, blank head nodded. "Next time," she added, her voice low and dangerous. "Tell Liphena that she must come herself. The council does not truck with servants."

* * * *

Dazlo strode through the black and green malachite corridors fuming. The mask that he wore in public was tightly crumbled in his clenched hand. Liphena had almost sentenced him to death by making him go to the Council today. He did not know what game she was playing, but he knew that he wanted no part of it. Her schemes, in the end, always ended in death for most of those around her. To Liphena, her whole household was expendable.

Dazlo sighed. It was not that unusual for a dark elf to view those around them as expendable commodities, but for those without power or station, it was damn near inconvenient and deadly. He marched up the wide, polished black steps that led to the second, then third story of the mansion. He had to make his report to his mistress and let her know what Tibithia had said and done when he had told her about the gate. Liphena was most likely going to dissolve into annoying giggles. Dazlo grimaced. He hated it when she giggled. He reached the long hallway that ended in Liphena’s sumptuous chambers and paused.

Something did not seem right in the hallway. All of his senses screamed to him that he was in danger. He pulled back against the wall and discreetly drew a dagger. He was about to throw it down the long hall, thus tripping whatever trap lay in wait, when Quell, the house wizard, came roaring past him, screeching at the top of his lungs, "Stop hiding from me you ungrateful brats. I will have my revenge! THIS IS NOT TO BE TOLERATED!"

Dazlo looked at the wizard in confusion, was about to call out a warning, but saw why the wizard was screaming, and choked back laughter instead. Quell’s hair was bright, glittering, glowing pink. It was the most gods-awful shade of the color that Dazlo had ever seen, and considering the exotic hues most dark elves were born with, that was saying much. The twins must be torturing their tutor again, and rather than ruin their fun, Dazlo stepped further back into the shadows by the wall and watched. Whatever it was they had planned was probably going to be painful. Dazlo smiled.

Quell continued to rage down the hall, casting detect magic and flinging dispel as he went. Dazlo could tell that the wizard was not as stupid as he originally thought. The mage had a pretty good idea of what was coming. Still, Dazlo, if asked, would bet on the twins.

Suddenly Quell stopped. A rune glowed to life on the wall. Dazlo watched it in confusion, for as soon as it started glowing from Quell’s detect magic spell, it began to change. Dazlo read "Quell smells like farts" and laughed. But he was confused. It didn’t seem like the twins to just stop at scrawling insults on the wall

Dazlo saw the wizard start to wiggle his fingers and mouth " ‘Quell smells like farts, I’ll show them ‘Quell smells like farts’," at this point the mage was screaming in his fury. Dazlo’s eyes widened as he realized what was about to happen and looked away. The rune flashed once more, triggered by Quell’s repeating of its line. Dazlo did not see what the rune had morphed into, but he didn’t need to. Quell started screaming not in anger but pain. Horrible racking pain if the timber and intensity of his screams meant anything. Dazlo, at this point was trying hard to keep standing because he was laughing so hard. He really didn’t know why Liphena kept the incompetent mage around, but at least the man was amusing.

The dark elf lieutenant stepped away from the wall he had been backed against, and still chortling walked the rest of the way down the hall. Quell was still screaming and writhing on the floor when Dazlo calmly stepped over the wizard’s twitching body and continued to Liphena’s chambers. He was in a much better mood now.

When he reached the elegant wooden doors to Liphena’s inner sanctum, he briefly considered knocking, but he was in such an expansive mood that he just flung the doors open instead.

Liphena lay in the center of her bed, sprawled out in nearly naked splendor. She peered at Dazlo through half-opened eyes and her full mouth pulled into a sensuous smile. Liphena’s beauty was enough to make any man stagger, but Dazlo was immune. He had worked for her for too long for her looks to affect him. He briefly eyed the curve of hip and thigh that showed against the diaphanous gown she wore and sighed. She was impossible, and one day he hoped that he would have the opportunity to kill her before someone else did.

"Dazlo," she purred, her voice delighted," what brings you here?"

"Liphena, cut the shit. We’re in trouble. Tibithia is hell bent on the portal and the invasion and we haven’t even begun to figure out how to make one work. K’elden’s protection still lies on the forest. Ten thousand years has not weakened the traitor Oakbower’s spell."

Liphena absently twirled her long, pale blue hair around a dainty black finger. Her lapis lazuli eyes gleamed gem bright, though. Dazlo could tell that she knew something that he did not. He scowled.

"Oh, don’t scowl so Dazlo, dear," tittered Liphena, "it puts such ugly lines through your pretty face."

"What is it that you plan to do?" demanded Dazlo.

"Why, I was just getting up to go find you, dear. I have news from Quell. He found something very interesting in some musty old book, something that could make a portal not only powerful enough to reach the surface, but powerful enough to get through the elves’ strongest defenses. We but need to acquire a suitable specimen from the Stars Above. Speaking of Quell, I wonder where the dear wizard could be." She looked around in pretty confusion. Dazlo was in no mood to play her games.

"He lies wracked in pain right outside your door, Liphena. Don’t pretend that you couldn’t hear his screams."

"Oh….my. So that was what all that horrid noise was about. You didn’t hurt him, did you Dazlo?"

"You know it was the twins." Liphena’s teeth showed white against the delicate skin of her lips.

"They are such dears, aren’t they?"

"Oh, they are devilishly charming," replied Dazlo, smiling tightly. Liphena’s laughter tinkled like broken glass through her chambers.

"Dazlo, give me your arm. I feel like a stroll to the library. Hopefully Quell will feel well enough to give a report." Dazlo sighed and went to Liphena. He helped her out of her indolent position in bed and she stood and stretched luxuriously. Too much of everything bounced when she did that. Dazlo scowled. Liphena took his arm again and laughed,

"Oh, Dazlo, you really are too much."

Liphena held out her hand and the doors swung open. She looked at the now empty hallway and smiled.

"I suppose whatever the twins did wasn’t fatal."

"No," said Dazlo, "your fool of a wizard just triggered a rune of pain."

"Well, I wonder how Quell could have fallen for something like that," mused Liphena," he’s usually cagier than that."

"Your little imps know how to work him into a blinding fury. They play him like an instrument, and well, too. I would watch those two, Liphena. They are so young and are already manipulating your household. For now it’s pranks, but who knows what they may do in the future." Liphena shrugged, the movement causing the straps of her almost non-existent gown to slip further from her perfect shoulders. She was not too concerned about it.

They strolled down the hallway and descended the stairs. Dazlo liked the palace for its architecture. It was made of black and dark green stone, polished to a high gloss. Tasteful black and silver furniture was strewn about in artful places and the rugs were silver and designed to look as delicate as spider web. The layout was impressive and despite being centered in the middle of the city, it was easily defensible and had a multitude of murder holes as well as escape routes. Dazlo knew them all. After Liphena, the twins, Rael, and Quell, Dazlo was the only other ranking elf in the family. Liphena did not trust easily, and trusted those of her blood least. Thus there weren’t many of noble blood in her household. Rael was a distant cousin, and of course the twins, but everyone else, including Quell and himself had started as commoners. But that didn’t matter, if they were attacked he, Quell, and Rael would be the first to die. Dazlo had a feeling that there wasn’t much in this world that was capable of killing Liphena or her twins.

Liphena let go of his arm to push open the double doors to the library. She breezed through the room with its wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling book shelves, crammed with tomes, and strode to the double doors leading to the library’s balcony. She flung these open as well and went to stand on the balcony. Dazlo followed her, caressing his dagger. He did not like to be in such an open space, but he needed to know what was on Liphena’s mind. His life could be forfeit if he didn’t find out.

Liphena just stood gazing out over the city. The view was magnificent. The black void of the cavern in which the city of Night stood was filled with sparkling, glowing lights. They bobbed and whirled and twinkled like so many stars swallowed by the earth. From where he stood, Dazlo could see all of the Dock Ward and part of the Mercantile District, where most of the dark elf commoners lived. The Dark Sea’s waters lapped gently and coldly against the silvered sands of its shore and the light of the city’s multitude of faerie fires bounced and glimmered back gaily. He could tell by the glow from their lanterns that several fishing junks were still out to sea. He could vaguely make out their serrated, finned sails.

The Dock Quarters and the Mercantile District, which were considered the Lower City, were aglow with red and green light and a soft murmur from the crowds reached Dazlo’s ears even from where he stood. In those districts lived and worked all of the free but non-dark elven city dwellers. Dark elves were by and large an intolerant race and for the most part would have killed anyone who was not fallen elf or Grub, but they were also pragmatic and knew how to do business. So outsiders were tolerated in these districts for the wealth and goods they brought. But the individuals who lived there were not allowed entrance into the Greater City. Access to the Greater City was restricted to dark elven nobles, the fallen elven commoners that were their higher ranking attendants, and Grubs, the ghostly almost translucent remains of the once proud elven servant class. When the Great Injustice had happened, the servants of the elven nobles that had been purged from the elven realms had followed their masters into the Night Below and had wasted away in the darkness until they had become what they were now. They served silently and without question, and the fallen elves rarely noticed them or the work they did. Dazlo had tried talking to a Grub once. It hadn’t responded at all, not even with an animal-like interest. Its absence of self had unsettled Dazlo and he had killed it. When he looked back, its compatriots were calmly cleaning up the remains as if the Grub were just more garbage to be tidied. Dazlo shuddered remembering it.

He narrowed his eyes when he heard movement from within the room behind him. He was about to draw his dagger when he heard the whimpering groans of Quell. He almost burst out laughing again, but held his silence. Beside him, Liphena smirked.

Quell shambled gingerly onto the balcony, the permanent scowl on his face more fierce than usual.

"Why Quell darling, you look like a mess!" exclaimed Liphena as she turned to greet her house wizard. Quell’s hair was still outrageous pink. Liphena’s smile broadened when she noted it unusual color.

"Of course I do, Liphena, today I had to teach your sniveling brats. And as usual everything I have ever taught them has come back to haunt me."

"Oh, come now, I don’t think it can be that bad. They are the cutest little boys." Liphena smiled merrily at Quell. Quell looked like he would like nothing better than to turn her into ash where she stood.

"You who spawned them should know very well that they were born because hell was getting rid of their souls. Not even the inferno could tolerate such little monsters." Dazlo burst out laughing.

"It isn’t funny, Dazlo. Those little monsters can wield magic better than most wizards in this godsforsaken city. And they have wings," he spat.

Dazlo laughed harder. He remembered well when the twins had first learned to use their wings. Quell had used two wands of flying and a great many polymorph spells to catch up with them. Quell’s face turned into a snarl. Dazlo quieted, but his eyes remained bright. He did not like Quell and whenever the twins tortured their tutor, he liked to be there to see it.

"Well Liphena," growled Quell, "are you ready to hear my report?"

"But Rael isn’t here," she pouted. Her mouth formed a full moue.

"I’m here," said Rael as he strode into the room, the scarlet of his cloak trailing like wine behind him. Rael was quite possibly one of the best fighters in the city and he made an excellent commander. Dazlo had the feeling that Liphena kept him around more for the dashing figure he cut than for his martial skills. Dazlo liked Rael, he would still put a dagger through his back if he had to, but he did genuinely like the guard captain. Rael was efficient, quiet, and he did not leave an excessive amount of bodies in his wake. Rael sat down with a flourish in one of the plush chairs positioned around the room and looked expectantly at Liphena.

"Well, now that we’re all here," said Liphena, closing all of the doors of the room with a snap of her fingers, "Why don’t we begin." Quell cast several spells and Dazlo could feel the protections from outside spying fall over the room. "Quell, dear, why don’t you tell us what you found in your little book?" Quell straightened and looked at the group.

"I have found a way to furnish enough power to be able not only to gate an army up through the Night Below, but also land them square in the middle of the elven forest, K’elden’s protection or no. We only need a suitable somebody to use as a conduit for the power. The only hitch as far as I can tell is that the conduit will have to be pure. So that means somebody from the surface."

Rael looked thoughtful, "We can’t use a slave brought here already from the surface?"

Quell shook his elegant head, "No. The spell calls for a specific person. In fact, I have made a spell to find that person." Quell pulled out a delicate silver manacle attached to an equally fine silver chain. Quell said a word and the manacle glowed. Pictures began forming on the surface. A youth’s face showed briefly. It was a handsome, kind face with large almond brown eyes. He was a wood elf from the look of his skin and the dark of his hair. He looked to be about Shan’va and Niven’s age. There was sunlight shinning on his hair and sparkling from his eyes. The forms of other elves moved about in the background. He was definitely on the surface.

Rael gave a soft but impressed whistle and Dazlo looked at Quell with a little more respect. The spell was a considerable and elegant feat. Dazlo had not thought that the prissy wizard had it in him.

"We do not need to procure the boy now. In fact waiting a few years for him to grow in strength so that he can channel power to the gate would be advisable."

"What do we tell the Council until then?" asked Dazlo.

"It takes time to muster and train an army," said Liphena. "Quell, when will the gate be operational? How soon after we procure the boy? A few years, no more than four at the most. By then, he should be strong enough to withstand the process so that it doesn’t kill him."

Liphena smiled, "What is four years to one of the blood? In the meantime, we will find someone capable of reaching the surface and coming back with the boy."

NEXT PART----SOME YEARS LATER, MAYBE?

Quell was irritated. His students had not shown up for their lesson and now he had to hunt them down. It was most undignified for a wizard of his status and ranking, but he knew that if the two he groomed did not live up to their potential, he was most likely going to die. The dark elves did not lightly kill those of their number that were highly trained, and they positively abhorred outright violence between the houses, but in their dark society, that did not mean one was necessarily safe. Thus did Quell, despite his rank and dignity, run, robes flapping, from one room to the other in the mansion. Quell had the sinking sensation that neither of the two half-demons were in the mansion. In fact, the more he looked, the more certain he was that they weren’t, which meant that they were most likely in the greater tunnels, or out among the slaves. Quell almost shrieked his frustration as he called for the captain of the mansion’s guards. Liphena did not realize just how demonic her twins truly were. He made his way to the courtyard where two lizards were waiting.

"Rael!" he yelled, "Rael! Where in the hells are you?"

"I am here, my lord." Rael sa Terelis stepped out from nowhere to stand beside Quell. Quell jumped and then scowled. Rael smirked and bowed low at the waist.

"My lord, what is it you need of me?"

"You know very well what I need," snapped Quell. "Now mount up. We have to find those brats before Liphena skins me." Rael’s smirk deepened. He did not like the arrogant wizard, in fact he longed to put a blade through the man’s shoulders, but Liphena had not ordered it, yet, so he held his sword. Quell glared at the guardsmen and kicked his heels into his lizard. Rael mounted with fluid grace and spurred his lizard after him.

The two riders sped though the lower streets of the town, for House Terelis, unlike most of the other dark elf noble houses, stood within the actual city of Night, close to the dock areas. Shan’va and Niven had used to escape their lessons at the docks until Quell had found them out and paid the dockworkers a substantial sum to send for the soldiers of Terelis to escort them home. Quell did not think that they were there, but knowing Niven’s penchant for cruelty, he had a feeling that they were just beyond the last quarter, in the outskirts of the city, amongst the tattered human and goblin slaves that the city kept.

Rael pulled his mount abreast with Quell’s and said, "You think they are in the slave canyon?"

"I wouldn’t put it past them," muttered Quell. Rael smiled darkly, his teeth gleaming in the faint faerie light that lit the city districts.

"So, how many do you think they’ve killed?"

Quell frowned, " They have not killed anything. Niven has probably killed twelve by now. Shan’va none."

"Hmm," was all the Rael replied before he spurred his lizard faster and outdistanced the wizard.

* * * *

 

"Don’t be such a baby, Shan’va, blast it!" screamed Niven. Shan’va looked at the human boy who was about his age and whimpered.

"No, Niven, don’t make me hurt him. He hasn’t done anything to deserve to be killed."

"We need to practice our magic if we are to be of any use to mother and the house. He is a target; use the spell that Quell taught us! Do it!" Shan’va just stood, fear paralyzing him. He looked at the corpses that lay dead and twitching at Niven’s feet. His brother had used his poisoned crossbow and several spells; the humans had gone down without a fight. They had known what was coming and had accepted death as better than slavery to the fallen elves. Shan’va thought he understood why as he looked at his brother, an unholy gleam lighting Niven’s handsome, adolescent features.

"No," said Shan’va gathering his courage, "killing them is just a waste. They didn’t even fight. This isn’t how a real battle would go. Please, let’s just stop this and go home. We missed Quell’s lesson. He’s going to be really mad."

Niven shot his twin brother a look of disgust and said, "You’re scared of the twittering fool, Quell? Shan’va when we were born we were more powerful than he is ever going to be! We only need him a little longer, and then we will be the house wizards, and he will die." Shan’va gulped. He did not like the mad glitter in his brother’s eyes. But then again, Niven had always been unsettling. Shan’va remembered the kitten from the surface, how he had loved it and spoiled it and one day awoke to see its drowned body lying in a still wet heap at the foot of his bed. Shan’va knew who had done it, although he had never said anything. Niven had been but the pudgy equivalent of a human six year old when he had drowned his brother’s pet, now though in real years they were close to forty-two, they were the approximate mindset and age of human sixteen year olds. Fallen elves were graced with the long life span of the surface elves and Shan’va and Niven, due to their demonic blood would age slower than most. Shan’va shivered thinking of the many years that Niven had to wreak havoc and destruction. He knew that he should be following his brother’s advice and trying to become skilled so that he would be useful to his house, but somehow Shan’va never found the desire. He just wanted to be left alone. He did not like learning magic so that he could control and destroy his enemies. Shan’va had no desire to make enemies, let alone destroy them. He knew that such thoughts made him weak, just as loving the kitten had, but he was not so sure that he wanted to be strong.

Shan’va looked up as he heard the human boy suck in a breath of air. Niven was going through the motions of a spell. Shan’va narrowed his eyes and cast the only spell he was good at. The only spell Niven didn’t have protections for. He wiggled his fingers and murmured and something effulgent and silvery shot from his hands and hit Niven squarely in the stomach. Niven convulsed and started laughing. Loud, uncontrollable guffaws. He looked up at his brother hate contorting his face, making the laughter seem all the more queer. Shan’va sighed and looked at the boy.

"Run," he said, "I won’t be able to stop him once the spell wears off." The boy’s eyes widened as he looked between one identical half-demon and the other, then he backed away, stumbling. He was about to turn around and start running deeper into the slave canyon when a blue-white bolt hit him between the shoulder blades and he fell to the ground with a soft thud. He lay still and Shan’va knew that despite his best efforts, the boy had been slain.

"Shan’va what are you doing!" shouted Quell, anger making his voice screechy. Quell and Rael thundered into view. Rael had his weapons drawn and Quell looked irritated. He had been the one to cast the spell at the human boy.

"We were just about to come back to the palace," said Shan’va, his voice was tired and sad.

"Why are you laughing, Niven? What is so funny?" demanded Quell, but then the mage looked closer at his pupil and frowned. "Why did you cast a spell at your brother, Shan’va?"

"I…."

Niven finally managed to straighten and glaring at his brother said, "He didn’t. You know how lousy his aim is, he was aiming for the human and missed. I should have known better than to expect him to back me up." Shan’va’s eyes glittered dangerously, but he said nothing, thinking it prudent not to let Quell or Rael know that he had intended to help the human boy and not kill him.

Comments

[rayechu.livejournal.com]

I like all of it. Now get to the part.