Thread: Corruption of Champions

Nature impregnated the icy nighttime with many perfumes that of the lilacs, each creamy pearl curling against blades of the finest grasses, they their blankets, their pillows to evoke sweet dreams upon next came the elms and the oaks, those fibrous giants who just barely took to swaying in the midnight breeze even the smooth pebbles lining that quiet brook added to these congealed aromas, it a subtle tone of pure primitivism. Every creature breathed and each creature existed amid this fragrant forest intruding about the road cutting right into the temple. Candidly to them, the denizens culminated there, did one other beast lurk, its limbs coiled up, mildly tense, though unafraid of the foreboding shadow. A tall man clearly from lands where humans lived, by his pale skin and bright grey eyes drew in a deep breath, savoring the cold air. He stood at the top of a large balcony, naked flesh exposed to the cold air, not bothering him in the slightest. A small runic symbol on his right neck marked him as shadow, the leader of this little group. For as long as his people could remember, he had been the leader. Only foundations of this keep knew of a leader before him. The man had taken on the name of Ruyin or veiled death in the old tongue. He long ago removed himself from the bonds of humanity and any things that came with it, including his name. He glanced around the room, lifeless orbs scouting from left to right as his mind began calculating his next movement. Part of what came with separating yourself from the living was the sudden clear mind one might have. Normally a mind would be constantly regulating body functions or calculating hormonal levels. Ruyin had no such barriers, allowing him to focus everything he had. He brought his tall frame to one of the mirrors in his chambers, glancing at the expression. One might have guessed his height around six feet, give or take a few inches. His short white hair danced in the wind, a vile imitation of containing life. The man vaguely remembered having dark brown hair before he escaped from life. He brought his digits to his ears as he brushed a few strands of hair away from them, feeling the pointed tips. His grandfather had been one of the Tokra, or Elven people as they called themselves now. Although most of his form came from his human ancestors he did have some elven traits, mostly giving his body more delicate touch. He slid his frame in the expensive dark silk, feeling it slide against his skin. He carefully wrapped a small thin piece of cloth around his middle, fastening the garb. Grabbing the large black cloak and wrapping it around his frame, he brought the hood upwards, shielding his hair and face. The hood alone brought enough darkness to hide his face, yet he placed another item there. A thin mask was placed over his face, shielding his features from mortal eyes. The mask itself held no enhancement or enchantment besides the occasional grease for polishing. Sliding two twin silver daggers behind his sash, he left the room, stepping into darkness. He tried to remember why darkness and shadows gave him a comforting feeling. He only vaguely remembered his past, most of it spend in the slave mines of the Telirian empire, before they crumbled down to smaller nations. A rough guess would say that happened four hundred years ago. A young man had been sent through a mysterious portal to protect his people. The boy had died around then, died in the hands of his lover, the lady of death herself. He seemingly stepped out of the shadow in the gardens, taking his place on a small bench. He smiled gently as he noticed the chest board in front of him. A single white pawn was placed in the middle of the field, surrounded by grey pieces on all fronts. Behind that sea of grey was single black piece of wood, the king. He heard the trembling knees behind him as he nodded, sending the two terrified young imps on their mission. He slid the first two grey pawns towards the white piece in the center as he chuckled. He loved games, would she?