Friday, March 26, 2010

Emanation is the Warmest Flattery

Fulguralis strode aimlessly between the tents as the first stains of sunlight began leaking over the distant frosty peaks.  It had not been a restful night and he had left his wife in the warm tent, curling spasmodically in her nightmares.  The day would bring more fighting, and the Warlock looked forward to a chance to vent his building frustrations.  

The amulet he'd taken from his unsuspecting wife weighed like a stone in his pocket.  Once more, he took it out and examined it in the rising light as if morning would change its implications.   On one side, a strange bird, white on a red background, stared back at him.  On the other, an inscription.  It read: All my love - M Brightrune.

Fulguralis did not like it one bit.  Who was this Brightrune fellow?  And why is he sending love trinkets to my wife?  No, the Warlock did not like it at all. 

He shoved the necklace back down into his pocket with more force than was strictly necessary.  The sun continued to climb over the mountains.  The day continued to break.  If Fulguralis didn't get to the bottom of this soon, the day would not be the only think broken.  A small insect dared cross the Warlock's path, and was subsequently consumed by a large orb of shadow.  Only a corpse remained when the darkness cleared.  Fulguralis took no notice and strode on.

He didn't want to believe that his young bride could be shucking her marriage oaths already.  He couldn't believe it.  Still, he hated the small knot of worry that burned at his insides like a smoldering ember in a dry pile of leaves, needing only the smallest of breeze to ignite the entire forest.  Relationships were difficult like that.  Could any one person ever truly know the mind of another? 

When would she even have had time for this M Brightrune?  Between their constant assaults on the Citadel and they few errands they were permitted to run in the down time, she was almost always in the company of her husband.  Sure, there were times when they each went their separate ways to pursue separate interests.   The Warlock liked terrorizing unsuspecting folk using his demon form, and sometimes brushing up on his spells by joining newer adventurers as they attempted to keep old paths secure.  It was a good excuse to start some fires.  He had no idea what his Paladin wife did during those times, but they were few and far between, often not of long duration in the first place.  Certainly there was no time for philandering?

Despite the rational protestations of the mind, the heart would not listen.  An irrational beast, it would be satiated only by clear proof, and maybe not even then.  Torrential logic would never douse inflamed emotion, no matter how sound.

Fulguralis reached up an irritably tugged at the over-sized, upturned collar on his new cowl.  The flaming hood took some getting used to.  It felt like he had wings sprouting out of his neck.  Still, he had to admit the fire illusion was top notch and went rather well with the shadow dust emanating from his shoulder guards.  All in all, he presented a rather handsome, if evil, image.  Clearly suitable of a powerful Warlock.

A lone, brightly lit tent drew his attention from his dark inner musings.  Fulguralis looked around to get his bearings, and realized it must be coming from the tent of their leader, Jessabelle.  The bookish Dwarf would be up early, probably pouring once more over the day's strategies.  She kept some odd hours. 

Fulguralis walked up to the tent and cleared his throat loudly.

"Come in, Ful," a slightly irritated voice called from the interior.

The Warlock ducked in quickly and began talking even as his eyes took in the scene before him.  "I was just out for an early walk, thinking about our last assault and I have some sugg-" he broke off as he finally realized what he was seeing.

The diminutive Dwarf stood before him, hands in a fist on her hips, glaring at his head.  Her own head was framed by large, upturned collars and a deep cowl with the illusion of fire atop it.  They were wearing the same hood.  Jessabelle's scowl deepened as they stared at each other across the tent.

Finally, Fulguralis spoke up, "Well, one of us is going to have to change."

6 comments:

  1. Some more about the helm? Really?? Find a new topic and stop rubbing it in my face!!!

    ReplyDelete
  2. If it makes you feel anyworse, I have my t-10 helm too ;)

    ReplyDelete
  3. I am not amused. *Server Transfer Complete*

    ReplyDelete
  4. I never speak in a slightly irritated voice, I don't know what you're on about. I'm like the momma dwarf or something.

    Also, you can keep the hat, I can't wait to change out of it!

    Am I self-centered because I feel this was the best IC friday evar?

    ReplyDelete
  5. You only use that voice with me :-)

    ReplyDelete