The broad blade of the slightly glowing sword thrust through the black-feathered breast of the young mirrorknight with a savage crunch. The poor thing fell dead instantly, crumpled in a little, feathery heap. There was still skin visible from between the black plumage; the thing must not have been more than a moon old. A silvery-plated boot stepped on the carcass and applied enough pressure to withdraw the gleaming weapon, decorated with ornate patterns -- a true demonstration of masterwork crafting. The blood upon it as usual, was unfortunate, and drew a grimace of disgust from the wielder.
He was unmistakably hyur; a midlander by the stature of him. Well cared for blond hair shone in the sun's light like golden strands, swept neatly out of the way of silvery-blue eyes that glimmered with cleverness and ambition. They remained trained on the carcass, momentarily ignoring the odd, perilous environment of the Burning Wall. The orange, corrupted crystalline structures tossed and filtered the sunlight in a manner that was most unflattering upon the glittering replica armor he wore.Â
The garb of a Free Paladin! Doer of good deeds, helper of mankind, defender of the defenseless against the thralls of evil. He was a bearer of Light, and so the task he attended to while grisly, was necessary for light to prevail against the darkness. Silver upon silver upon steel and ivory, it represented everything he had worked for up until that moment. Draped about it was a sigiled tabard that spoke of his achievements as an adventurer, and strapped to his hip was a satchel of rewards, tokens and keepsakes given to him  by those willing and unwilling alike.Â
The subject of unwilling keepsakes flit through his head at a very convenient moment, for something had begun to take place with the carcass below him. It remained quite dead, but something coalesced in the air about a fulm above it. The Midlander's eyes widened in genuine surprise. Surely not...?Â
It was only a matter of moments before a crystal had appeared; orange and small -- oddly shaped and unrefined. It glowed brightly, as if waiting to be picked up by his armored hand. He knew very well what it was, he possessed four others in his satchel. To think that the fifth would show up here! It was unfortunate then, that the moment he reached for it, another phenomenon occurred. Orange, crackling aether leaped from one of the corrupted formations nearby, sending a shower of sparks into the air and down to the ground around him.Â
Naturally he had raised his shield, allowing the subtle violet glowing metal to catch and deflect the...mostly harmless sparkles. When it was done, the crystal laid atop the baby mirrorknight's carcass, glowing very feebly. Something had gone terribly wrong with it, and he knew all too well that it was spoiled. It was against his luck that the process had occurred in a corrupted area such as this.Â
Still, he took it. The gauntlet prevented his skin from coming into contact -- but unlike the others he had seen before, it did not glow at his touch. His count then, would remain at four, for now. Yet, he would not abandon the opportunity. He had killed the mirrorknight baby for a reason, and now, the little crystal had made things even more inconvenient for him. It was the perfect bait! There was no need to drag a stinking, feathery carcass across the desert; he could burn it, and use the crystal to draw the thing's mother instead.Â
"A body cannot draw its mother if it cannot cry," the Free Paladin reasoned as he turned the crystal between his fingers, "But a soul...it calls out to its mother in a way more profound than any other. This will do."
He was unmistakably hyur; a midlander by the stature of him. Well cared for blond hair shone in the sun's light like golden strands, swept neatly out of the way of silvery-blue eyes that glimmered with cleverness and ambition. They remained trained on the carcass, momentarily ignoring the odd, perilous environment of the Burning Wall. The orange, corrupted crystalline structures tossed and filtered the sunlight in a manner that was most unflattering upon the glittering replica armor he wore.Â
The garb of a Free Paladin! Doer of good deeds, helper of mankind, defender of the defenseless against the thralls of evil. He was a bearer of Light, and so the task he attended to while grisly, was necessary for light to prevail against the darkness. Silver upon silver upon steel and ivory, it represented everything he had worked for up until that moment. Draped about it was a sigiled tabard that spoke of his achievements as an adventurer, and strapped to his hip was a satchel of rewards, tokens and keepsakes given to him  by those willing and unwilling alike.Â
The subject of unwilling keepsakes flit through his head at a very convenient moment, for something had begun to take place with the carcass below him. It remained quite dead, but something coalesced in the air about a fulm above it. The Midlander's eyes widened in genuine surprise. Surely not...?Â
It was only a matter of moments before a crystal had appeared; orange and small -- oddly shaped and unrefined. It glowed brightly, as if waiting to be picked up by his armored hand. He knew very well what it was, he possessed four others in his satchel. To think that the fifth would show up here! It was unfortunate then, that the moment he reached for it, another phenomenon occurred. Orange, crackling aether leaped from one of the corrupted formations nearby, sending a shower of sparks into the air and down to the ground around him.Â
Naturally he had raised his shield, allowing the subtle violet glowing metal to catch and deflect the...mostly harmless sparkles. When it was done, the crystal laid atop the baby mirrorknight's carcass, glowing very feebly. Something had gone terribly wrong with it, and he knew all too well that it was spoiled. It was against his luck that the process had occurred in a corrupted area such as this.Â
Still, he took it. The gauntlet prevented his skin from coming into contact -- but unlike the others he had seen before, it did not glow at his touch. His count then, would remain at four, for now. Yet, he would not abandon the opportunity. He had killed the mirrorknight baby for a reason, and now, the little crystal had made things even more inconvenient for him. It was the perfect bait! There was no need to drag a stinking, feathery carcass across the desert; he could burn it, and use the crystal to draw the thing's mother instead.Â
"A body cannot draw its mother if it cannot cry," the Free Paladin reasoned as he turned the crystal between his fingers, "But a soul...it calls out to its mother in a way more profound than any other. This will do."