Just a little soemthing I made up for english class...
Silver Fire
Naked blades sang and whirled about
Under the star speckled sky.
Moonlight glinted
Off of their smooth deadly points.
A lone figure spun and weaved
Around the blades
With uncanny speed and grace.
Sinewy muscle rippled
With every confident move.
Moonlight glistened
Off the sweat on her bare fair skin,
Making her a silhouette against the dark sky.
The swords struck again
And again with precision,
However,
Never seemed to make contact
With anything but air.
A blade would strike out at the woman,
And just when it’s about to make contact…
The enticing figure whirls herself away…
Disappearing,
Dodging,
Again, and again
With not even a ribbon of blood.
The dance of the woman and swords continues
With dazzling brilliance.
A veil of shining, silver hair
Billows about her,
A not uncommon trademark of a Chosen of Mystra.
Bright eyes shone out
Amid the thicket of a nearby tree.
Watching intently,
Carefully noting the sparks of silver fire
Dancing around her,
And the grace and control of her actions.
“You’ve come a long way, lass,” Dalamar murmurs to himself…
The lithe figure jumps off of the branch with equal grace,
Landing only centimeters from the ground,
Floating on nothing.
His features are outlined
By the light of the moon.
Bright lavender irises
Shone out of his almond shaped eyes.
Wind seared through the air around him
And his white,
Thick silvery hair flowed around him.
Pointed years marked him for an elf…
And yet,
His skin was as black as the sky.
Many would cower away at the sight of him.
For dark elves were feared
For their stealth and efficiency at killing.
Yet he wasn’t like all the others.
He did not seek to kill for fun.
He did not like to torture out of pure spite.
Yet he had to work for the trust of the people,
For he was of the underworld creatures.
A dark elf,
Creation of the Dark Mistress…
Feared by all.
The stranger moved towards the woman,
Walking silently through the night.
Into the star-lighted grove,
Past the first round of vicious stabbing swords,
And into the circle surrounding the alluring lady.
When a sword struck out at him,
The dark elf waved his hand,
Muttering an elaborate word,
And a crack of blue white energy,
Reducing the weapon to dust.
And he walked on…
By then,
The figure in the middle
Had noticed the disturbance.
Turning,
She looked at the intruder,
Taking in the double scimitars hanging at his hips,
And recognition came into her silver eyes.
She waves off the now floating swords absently.
Dalamar salutes her
In an exaggerated motion,
With an easy smile that could’ve reached the stars
Evident on his dark face.
When she only stared,
Eyes bright with disbelief,
And faltering in her step,
He strode forwards
And swept her up in a huge hug,
Lifting her feet off the ground.
The girl returned the hug with great liveliness…
For this was her father.
It was the first time in centuries that she had seen him.
Because of her part elven,
Part human blend of blood,
She would live almost ten times
The normal life span of a mere mortal.
It was because of this,
That her mother had died almost nine centuries ago.
And it was because of this,
That her father had left in grieving
For a period of time.
Although she could see happiness
In his clear lavender eyes,
There was still a hint of sadness
He was trying to hide.
Almost the same sadness
She had seen,
When Elminster took her
To become his apprentice,
And perform the ritual demanded of Mystra,
Something that demanded time,
Patience,
Pain,
And blood.
She knew then,
That this wasn’t just any normal family reunion.
But then,
When did they ever have a regular family reunion?
She found out the reason later…
Her father’s close friend
Died a couple of months ago
By the hands of some long time enemy,
And prominent rival of hers.
Dalamar had followed the killer for a while,
Seeking an opportune time
To get back from the man,
What should have been
Buried with his long-time friend.
And sought her help in taking care
Of the ranger area he was in charge of while he was gone.
Dove,
Always a seeker of excitement and adventure,
Of course,
Resented the idea
Of her father going out into dangerous situations,
Stealing all the fun without her.
When Dalamar had fallen asleep
On a nearby branch,
Driven by exhaustion,
Dove decided she was going to go with him
No matter what he said
Or threatened.
Besides,
It had been a long time
Since she had felt warm blood on her hands…
The last time must have been
When she and her father had attacked an army of enemy men.
The sky rained human blood that day
The two of them had hacked and slashed their way through,
Like a knife cutting through butter.
The thought of another experience like that
Only heightened her anxiousness for battle even more.
Silver fire burned in her eyes.
She couldn’t wait for the morrow to come… | 