Nihilos Draconum Chapter VII(Actual final book version. Updated)

Nihilos Draconum: Sacreia's background chapters.(Chap 7)

                                             Chapter Seven

Within the confines of the crystalline orb, a sanguine liquid swirled. For but a moment, it became still and a voice bellowed out from it. “Is this bloody thing working yet?” The liquid swirled once more until forming an image. An elven man had peered down upon the crystalline orb, intensely glowing sanguine eyes locking upon it. “I’ll assume it is, judging by the soft buzzing.” He cleared his throat.

“I am Ratheran, The Red Wyrmlord, otherwise known as The Ravager. Contained within this orb are the memories tied to those of my blood, and or relative closeness. It is also a record of how I will meet my demise.” Ratheran reached for an old weathered tome, the cover possessed large letters detailing the words Familiars for Dummies. For several seconds, Ratheran flipped through the pages before finally coming to a stop. Extending an open hand to the orb, he smiled, and a puff of white smoke shot out from his hand.  Once the smoke had receded, a small white rabbit became visible, its black soulless eyes stared blankly at the orb.

The image within the orb changed into the perspective of the rabbit. It looked up towards him, focused upon his face. “Using this, I shall record the events that transpire. Of those events, one in particular shall be of great interest to those who may be watching should they discover this orb. A child of rage and chaos shall be brought to this world. She will know naught more than suffering and find that she is otherwise alone in this world. Destruction, death, and carnage shall follow in her wake, along with my demise. I name this harbinger of Death… Reilai.”

Sanguine liquid swirled violently within the crystalline orb for several seconds. Once it settled, an image of a massive forest of Titanwood trees spanned on endlessly. Words appeared within the orb reading Siraset, Upper Ene’Shal. Within the great sea of trees, a village came into view. One filled with many thatch roofed huts, grey cut stone walls and glassless windows. Around the village were many elves hanging various accessories upon the branches of trees. Each one varying between wooden carvings of animals, stars, the sun and a runic sign symbolizing the village’s name.  A festival of sorts was in the process of being prepared for, and many of the elves were in the process of placing kegs of ale and barrels of fire sand in various places.

One hut in particular stood out amongst the others, one with many runic carvings upon its walls. Its wooden door shot open and two figures made their way through it. An elderly elven man, and a woman whose facial features were well hidden beneath an olive cloak hood. The elderly elf donned a forest green silken robe, many gold and silver trinkets dangling from the cloth. In his hand, a large oaken staff, a crystalline blue orb sat atop cradled by gnarled wooden fingers. His was a gentle, if not caring and determined wrinkled face, one well over a thousand years. A thin circle of silver white hair was all that was left upon his head leaving only a shiny pale dome.

The woman beside him donned an olive tunic, leather breastplate stitched into its fine cloth. Fingerless long gloves, knee high leather boots and linen breeches of the same coloration. They seemed to be painstakingly cared for. The two approached the center of the village, where a circle of large stones sat. Several other elven men were seated here, each one being the elder of another elven village. The elderly elf and his female companion entered the circle of stones as each elder locked their gazes upon them intently. Stamping his staff into the ground, the elderly man raised his head proudly. “Welcome, my friends! To this year’s Vardenal! I hope the trip to Siraset was a pleasant one. I, Gugumel, will be your host this year.”