Topic: Hauntings of the Past

Jonigan

Date: 2016-08-17 10:21 EST
"You pig-headed, arrogant, pain in my ass!" Though her words were biting, the look in her pale green eyes was one of deep concern. The lacy skirt whipped about her calves as she paced their bedroom.

Jonigan stepped nimbly in front of her, stopping her movements. He raised a hand to comb his fingers through her fiery red and gold mane. "Talitha, y"know I could nay live with m'self should I drag y"into harm's way." A charming smile curled his lips reflexively, though she had long ago become immune to its disarming effects.

"Please. You know I could kick your ass without breaking a sweat."

It wasn't a boast. Talitha was quite the atypical elvish maiden, which was what drew him so intensely to her. Tall and sleekly muscled, she was the avatar of Fury when anger got the better of her. Despite his considerable mystical talents, her speed and strength got the better of him nearly every time. Though his silver tongue ultimately proved to be her weakness.

"Aye, m'delicious force o' nature," he leaned in to kiss her forehead, for which she shoved him back a step. A frown creased his face, though Talitha's was deeper by far. "If t"were anywhere but Silver Thorn, I would welcome y"by m'side. They d"nay allow outsiders, as y"are well aware. They hardly tolerate m'self, and m"mother is one o' them."

"That's exactly my point!" she fumed at him. "If your mother was desperate enough for help to beg you to return home, it must be something terrible!"

"An" that's exactly m"point, also. If it's that bad, they may kill any stranger afore asking questions." He reached out to her again to take her hands, risking her ire. But she instead threw herself into his arms, hugging him fiercely.

"Damn you, Jonigan. If I knew you wouldn't just disappear and leave me stranded, I'd follow you anyway." Talitha's face nuzzled into his neck, and he could feel the dampness from the tears she tried to hide.

"Have faith, m"love," he spoke softly as he caressed her hair. "I'm devilishly hard t"kill."

Her voice was muffled as she squeezed him tighter. "If you die, I'm going to find a way to bring you back so I can kill you myself.?

Jonigan

Date: 2016-08-24 13:11 EST
The image in his mind was faint. His mother's face wavered in and out, never fully forming. Even her words were difficult to make out.

"Jonig...are besieged...no help...coming...I love?"

He awoke with a start as the message abruptly ended. Even in his sleep-fogged state, he knew it hadn't been a dream. It had been over a decade since she had last contacted him, but the touch of her sendings were unmistakable. Except before they had reached him almost effortlessly. This had seemed rushed, unfocused. Which could only mean something terrible.

Dread filled him. His mother was not one for haste, and his mind filled with the worst possibilities that could have caused it. "No help". That is where she was wrong. He would go immediately. She would not be left to face this unknown peril without him.

His gaze turned to the sleeping form of Talitha beside him. It tore at his heart, but he could not let her come. The elves of Silver Thorn would not allow intruders to disrupt their seclusion. Even from other elves. And if his mother had contacted him in such desperation, he would not let her risk getting involved in something that was most likely dire.

———————————————————-

Apprehension began to oppress him as he drew nearer to Silver Thorn. He had opened a portal as close as he dared to their border, which still left him over a day's hard walk. Even from there he had seen the dark swirls of smoke rising from the forest. The sight drove him to move as quickly as he could, resting only when he felt his pace would exhaust him past the point of usefulness.

The severity of the situation hit him when he knew he was well inside the sentries? perimeter and he had met no resistance. Someone should have attempted to detain him by now. Or spelled him to confuse his sense of direction. But there was nothing. Only silence and the strong smell of burnt woodland.

Moving with exaggerated caution, keeping alert to the smallest hint of a threat, he finally made it to the outskirts of the city. And what he found caused his blood to freeze. It was impossible. Everywhere he looked, there was only ruin. The treetop dwellings toppled to the forest floor. The home tree felled and burning. In fact, whatever hadn't already been turned to ash seemed in the process. Worst of all were the bodies. They littered the ground.

He picked his way across the battlefield, forcing himself to witness the brutality that had befallen his mother's people, looking for any familiar faces. And silently praying that his mother wasn't one of them. But there were too many for him to inspect them all. Too many. But not enough to account for the entire city.

Among the fallen he discovered a greater horror still. Some of the dead were not elves. The purple bodies of creatures who should not have seen the light of day were scattered here and there. Pale, dead eyes stared from faces covered with tentacles. Illithid.

Somehow they had discovered Silver Thorn's location and sent an army. But they would not have come here just to slaughter. They were slavers of the worst kind. With a nearly unmatched ability to control minds, they would subjugate their prey and drag them back to the Underdark. Some to sell. Some for labor. And the rest for food.

Thinking of the fate of the survivors caused the bile to rise in his throat. He could not leave them, no matter how coldly most had treated him in the past. Besides, his mother could be among them. Any delay in searching the dead could cause him to be too late to aid her. He would just have to hope. And hurry. It wouldn't be hard to follow a caravan that large. But if they made it to the Underdark with too much of a lead, his efforts might be for nothing.