Confliction: Prologue

Mist seeped slowly into the valley that morning, twisting around the trees and rocks and creeping along the cold, damp earth. Located in the foothills of the Ironridge Mountains, Seithrum Valley was covered with the lush, green vegetation of the Elidian Forest. A twisted blue ribbon of water cut its way through the trees and bushes and wound its way down the valley to a large lake in the south.

Several trails of smoke rose from a section of the forest to the north, at the base of Mount Kiliad; an Ur-dan force was set up here for the night. Two hundred of the filthy, impish creatures crowded around the fires, with another fifty of them stationed around the perimeter of the camp as guards. Sharp grunts and guttural barks echoed from the camp as some of the creatures grappled with one another, headbutting with their short, pointy horns and stabbing or slashing with their sinister black shortblades. All of the creatures were on edge; their home was in the mountains and the forest was alien to them.

Suddenly a great howling arose from the corner of the camp. Three of the creatures had fallen, arrows protruding from their foreheads. Another was gurgling cries of pain, an arrow stuck in his throat and blood trickling down his chest plate. The whole camp was in an uproar immediately, with groups of ten and fifteen streaming into the forest after the attackers.

A short while later, only a handful of the Ur-dan remained at the camp. They stood around their supply carts with their shields and blades ready, their beady eyes scanning the trees for movement. In an instant, two of them were down never having seen the arrows that had been their demise. The other seven immediately clustered together, locking shields to form a barrier. Unfortunately for them, they had been in too much of a rush to block the arrows to check behind them. A tall hooded figure unsheathed its sword silently and dispatched one of the Ur-dan, then another. The remaining five jumped out of formation and surrounded the stranger, snarling and flashing their blades. The stranger smiled and threw a single knife at the nearest Ur-dan, felling him quickly as three more were pierced with arrows. Then the stranger turned to the final imp and grinned. The creature stepped backwards, then fled. Two full strides later, he fell, a knife in the back of his skull.

The stranger made a quick hand motion and twelve other figures emerged from the forest.

"Let's get these supplies out of here before they return." The stranger ordered, and ten minutes later, the ambush party and the supplies were gone.

Deep in the woods, safe from the primitive Ur-dan, the small elven village of Ridiewae was sleeping peacefully, except for one hut. A squat, wooden structure set between two great oak trees, the building was dwarfed by the ancient trunks of the giants. A soft orange glow shone from the windows of the house, defying the darkness of the night, and a short curl of smoke escaped through a small hole atop the building where the roof came to a point.

Inside the dwelling a few braziers were lit and the shadows of two figures played on the walls of the hut as the flames danced in their iron holders. In the dim light of the torches, an elf woman was laying on her back, breathing heavily between strained cries of pain. Her Herven, or in the language of men "husband," was speaking in a low voice, encouraging her as he knelt, prepared to help deliver their son.

With a final scream, the elf-child came into the world, his father taking him carefully in his arms and cleaning him with a soft cloth. Except for a few coughs as he filled his lungs for the first time with air, the boy was silent. Father and son locked eyes and the older elf smiled softly as he wiped the child clean. Not a sound could be heard, save for the mother's breathing as it slowly returned to normal.

Now clean, the boy was handed to his mother, who took him lovingly into her arms, her bright blue eyes fixed adoringly on his face.

"What shall we call him?" asked the boy's father as he lay down beside the boy and his mother.

"Deidriu" she responded, tracing one of her slender fingers over the boy's brow and down the bridge of his nose.

As the name left her lips, the flames in the braziers suddenly leapt upward, illuminating the room brightly for an instant before returning to a low glow. Tendrils of fog slowly curled around the house, and a minute later the whole village was engulfed by mist.

--Sangheilioz 20:21, 18 August 2008 (UTC)

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