"Indeed," Rhaine answered, "I thought his name appropriate."
She fingered a silver stud on Thanatos's bridle absentmindedly, "Your people remind me of the druids of my homeland. They have a healthy respect for nature and for life - taking only what is needed and giving back when they can. In this, they are much like we Doomguides. We are taught to respect all life...that every soul and spirit has value. It is our duty to destroy the abominations of the undead, as they are twisted perversions of life and defy the natural order of death. Some would be surprised to learn that we do not seek death or revere it. In fact, we do whatever is within our power to keep mortals safe from incidents that would shorten their lives. A natural death is what Lord Kelemvor wishes for all people, and it is his command that no man or woman die without a Doomguide at his or her side. To die alone is to die afraid, and fear anchors the spirit to the mortal world, as does hatred and anger. We are also taught to honor our ancestors and to study history, for without the endeavors of those who have gone before us, we cannot understand ourselves and where we are today."
Looking back at Reona, Rhaine analyzed the elf's attire more closely, and was puzzled. Her sword was naked, her feet were bare, and she wore a dress that was certainly not suited for travel. She decided to voice her curiosity, "Reona, your dress is more suitable for a funeral than a sojourn on foot. And your sword has no sheath to guard its blade. You may, of course, choose not to answer me, but I feel I must ask: why are you garbed so?"
"I suppose that I can tell my story to you. It will pass the time while we travel, after all," Reona looked over to Rhaine and smiled meekly, her pale cheeks tinged with a burning red. She looked back at the path ahead, took a deep breath, and closed her eyes for a split-second, thinking of how to phrase everything she had to say.
Her electric eyes, framed by long, delicately-curled raven lashes, seemed to lose their brightness and become downcast, looking like the pale sky on a rainy day. She parted her amaranth lips slightly and blinked with thoughtful slowness, noticing the soft glow of Ellundil's runes on her black sleeves, before her voice, quiet and hardly audible, broke the silence, "Aye, a funeral it was... Let me start at the beginning...
"I had a very normal childhood among the few other children in my village. One thing that was different about me, however, was that I and my brother were always together. We were an odd sight, I must admit," she paused and her lips curled up in a sad smile, "He was the tallest Bosmer I had ever met, and I was tiny, even by our standards. We contrasted sharply: he tall, I short; his hair like sunlight, mine like midnight; he garbed in all white, I in black; he was outgoing, I was introverted... The adults of our village affectionately referred to us as 'Angel and Demon'. As for why he is dead, I killed him."
Reona's eyes widened and her face contorted into a vicious snarl as she felt a sharp sting in her neck. An arrow. Her expression changed to one of shock as she noticed what was going on.
Ellundil's hand was wrapped around the shaft of the arrow that pierced her flesh.
Ellundil felt adrenaline course through his veins - a power emerging through his body - a feeling he never felt before. He was becoming stronger.
Within a moments notice his runes began to grow a blood-red, as terrible as death, and he sprung into the air - ready to strike the force that was about him and his party. Running through the trees near the road, fast as a streak of lightning - he drew his sword out. Twas' not long before he came upon the bandits that had sought to hinder the party's efforts (They are simple highwayman, so they were not far off) and began to go blood thirsty.
The power that Ellundil felt was extreme - and he loved it. As he easily pierced through the bandits one by one (like a steak knife through fresh butter) their souls came out of their bodies - entering Ellundil's rune - growing its aura. This went on - slewing bandit after bandit, when finally - he was full of souls.
Ellundil began to levitate in the air, his long hair rising high with him, and released a deathly cry of flame and terror. This engulfed the bandits' camp in rapid torrents of fire - leaving nothing but a large crater - and in the middle of it sat Ellundil exhausted - with even more bandits on the way.



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