Legend+of+Firaduil

Sven picked himself up from the snow-covered forest floor. It was his turn to gather kindling for the fire the tribe held each blue moon. He held a few branches under his arm as he went to pick up the pile of sticks he had tripped over. He then took a deep sigh and paused to admire the sheer natural beauty of his homeland. It was rare to have such clear weather. The northern lights were dancing above him, lighting up the forest as they reflected off the icy ground. Sven smiled as he walked through the copse of trees, glancing at the hint of water though the trees.

//"I wouldn't take too long..."// Sven thought to himself. He reached the edge of the forest and made his way to the top of a nearby hill overlooking Lake Tynl. He set his kindling down, sat beneath his favorite tree, and watched the rolling waves crash into the rocky outcrop on the beach below him. He inhaled the fresh air and sunk further into the ground. //"What a great life."//

After a few minutes, Sven picked up the sticks and made his way back to the fire.

"Sven, my boy!" a familiar voice shouted. Sven spun around to see Elrich behind him. "Over here!" Elrich was an old friend and mentor, taking Sven on many trips and acting as a father figure when he was young. "Put the wood in the firepit and come sit down."

Sven placed the sticks in a neat little fashion and took a seat on a log next to the old elf. Others swarmed over and took seats in a circle around the firepit, friends and family alike. They watched as Chief Endulas came out of a nearby house and made his way over to the pit to light the fire. With a quick strike of flint, the fire sparked to life. An elder made his way to the pit and tossed a small log on, another following in his footsteps. Soon a line of old craftsmasters made a line and each took their turn to add their log onto the burning pile.

The deep, gravelly voice of the chief boomed as the last elder took his seat. "So, who is starting tonight?"

A strapping young man across from Sven stood up. "I have one," he volunteered. He picked up a small branch from the pile Sven brought and stuck the end into the fire. The flames danced around the branch, setting it ablaze. The man lifted it up out of the pit and watched for a moment as the stick slowly burned. He then began to speak.

"On the eve of new moon, much like tonight, three hooded figures, one in a royal blue cloak, one in a blood red cloak, and one in a cloak as white as ash, came to a small village and requested a simple night's stay. The guard that was standing watch at the gate refused, saying it was was past curfew and not a soul was allowed in or out. As the figure in white stepped forward to confront the guard, the captain of the watch appeared and ordered the gatesman to let the cloaked figures in, as they appeared old and frail. He led the hooded figures to a nearby inn where the promised they would only stay until the following night."

He stopped for a breath, looked at the half-burned branch, then continued on. "The night of the new moon came and as promised, the cloaked figures were nowhere to be seen. The entire town was in celebration by a fire when a guard approached them, the whites of his eyes showing and water dripping from his tunic. 'Come, sit by the fire and warm yourself!' said a fellow guard, holding out a bowl of gruel. 'You look as white as a sheet! Did you see another one of Sven's ghosts?'"

A few muffled snickers were heard as Sven turned red.

"Very funny, Vivyan," Elrich warned. "Back to the story."

Sven looked at Elrich and mouthed "thank you." Elrich smiled back and put a comforting hand on his back.

"Very well," Vivyan sighed. "'Did you see a ghost?' the man asked. The guard did not respond. He simply stood in the dark, away from the fire. 'Pete!' the man shouted, putting down the bowl. 'Pete, what's wrong?' A guttural snarl came from the man had to referred to as Pete, but when he walked forward, the man realized it wasn't his friend Pete at all. His jaw dropped in horror as he saw that water that had soaked his clothes and jacket was in reality blood. The skin from "Pete" had melted down his face and started to trickle off his body, revealing his cheek bones and leaving a boiling pool of molten skin and blood below him. The crowd screamed as the fiend lifted into the air, removed his jacket, and plunged a small knife in his arm. He twisted it and pulled downwards, leaving a huge gash. As the blood flowed from the wound, the white eyes of the beast glowed a deep red. Every man, woman, and child froze to the ground they stood as three cloaked figures walked forward, out of the darkness and toward the small pool of blood. The one in the red cloak removed his hood and knelt down, cupping his hands in the pool and taking a long gulp. He stood slowly, glaring at those before him, blood dripping from his chin. He muttered something sinister and the ground shook below. The horrified citizens scattered around as blackened arms clawed through the dirt, groping at those above. One poor child was grabbed by the ankle. She wailed as her leg made a sickening crack and snapped. Her skin lit ablaze, crawling up her body, burning her alive until she was engulfed in an inferno. 'Burn...' the red cloaked figure whispered. Suddenly, A figure in white walked forward and shou- OUCH!"

Vivyan threw the remainder of the burning stick down to the ground, sucking on his burnt finger and snuffing it out.

Endulas smiled. "Very good, Vivyan. Anyone else?"

Before anyone could respond, the ground shook and a fissure opened below them and feral growls could be heard below. A figure in a red and black cloak stepped forward out of the fire and clapped. A male's voice spoke from underneath the hood. "Very good indeed, //Vivyan//."

Vivyan shivered as a chill went up his spine. "Now," the man sneered. Shrill cries could be heard from behind the crowd. Sven turned to see a pair of black arms reaching up from the pit. "Let's hear that ending..."