faerinaal

[faerinaal]

"You wouldn't survive," Faerinaal's grin was a bit cheeky, one that held a bit of mirth. Perhaps the dragon would survive, but they wouldn't need to find out. Traveling through the Underdark was less than ideal at the moment, but he'd take Nidhogg there perhaps. One day. "This world would continue on. This realm...it holds life. But so do all the others. You haven't been far from the tree, have you?" Their worlds had many branches, many pathways, and he was curious if Nid would be able to carve his own.

"And am I to replicate the Founder's great journey?" All Nid had ever known was the Underdark, the dark crystalline spires of Queen Ayi'ig's world; they'd fabricated it together with the help of the Founder and the other original drow. They'd conquered other places, subjugated creatures to their demands, but the dracaenae had stayed faithfully beside the queen, an Aspect ignorant to the hundreds of realms around them. "What is meant to become of this world if we all abandon it?" Nidhoggr had trouble letting go.

#nidhogg

[faerinaal]

The Founder tilted his head with a small smile, watching Sinbyrn for a moment. It had been centuries since he'd been in the Court, since he'd built this place with his bare hands, until Ayi'ig requested that he'd return home. He'd seen monstrosities beyond Sinbyrn's imagination, and like a child, she stood there. "Then perhaps you should've brought it up with Ayi'ig if you truly had something worthwhile to add." But she hadn't, and still, the Founder remained at the top. The general was weary, but not too weary to hold a fight. He enjoyed all drow who could fight, who showed a minuscule of talent, "You stand above many, but don't think above all."

who?: @faerinaal where?: the warrior academy

♝

Sinbyrn knew the best way to demonstrate her worship was to use the strength the Weaver graced her with. She refused to let her battle sense grow dull, which meant giving equal attention to her devotions and her swordplay. Her dark sister hissed in delight as she stood amongst the warriors she'd wounded while sparring. Sinbyrn hoped they'd provide at least a little challenge, but even as tens of them charged her like she commanded, she barely expended any effort when she struck each of them down. "I do hope these were of the newer regiments you're training. Because if they represent your acadamy's standards, I weep for the future of the Court," she says, turning her attention to the direction of the steady footsteps. Sinbyrn stands proudly amongst her devastation, hoping he caught at least a portion of the bout. She wanted the entire Triumvirate to know that she was a cut above. "There must be someone available who has suitable power to train with me. I would hate for my blade to dull from constantly clashing with inferiority. I require a higher caliber of partner."

#sibyrn

[faerinaal]

In some twisted way, there would've been no one else that Faerinaal entrusted to do such a thing. No one would give Aegnor a fair fight but The Founder; no one had respect for an enemy, though that term was now far more loose. And he'd seen the drow back into the endless void of reincarnation. That was then, however, and this was now. Silence in the forest, a future that did not need to pass. And it wouldn't, as Titania herself had given her life for it. Ayi'ig had been an unfortunate victim as well, though he was sure Aegnor held no love for her.

Faerinaal had chosen to follow Ayi'ig, however. The long awaited lifetimes of reincarnation – how they would all become dark elves and eventually cycle back into the realm of the light elves – that had been a tale as old as anything. Lloth had been a leader in her own right, from whispers of an old princess whose empire had been destroyed before she could take up the mantle of leadership, of parents that were star crossed and destined to meet her path once more – the Dark Seldarine had been made what it was because she had rebelled, and they were all to quick to forget it.

"The realm of Arvandor is one of the last vestiges. So many realms have fallen. The one I was from had been destroyed by the Spellplague long before Hyperborea became the final option." Faerinaal hadn't spoken these words in ages, though Aegnor's new position and the whole green flame thing was less than envious. Faerinaal held enough responsibility in his hands; he'd left when he was no longer required, and return when he'd been called. A sharpened weapon, an elf of old – he remembered it all, and the lorendrow? "These are the elves that split from Lloth many, many centuries ago." He wondered how much Aegnor knew, or what he was prepared to do with it, but the comment made him laugh, "Yes, I have a fondness for travels. And stories. I'm impressed you've managed to remember all that happened to you. The Astral Sea is endless. Time is fickle, and long, even for us."

It was a comical question to ask, given how much fighting the pair of them had done over the years. For in the Underdark, it had once been all that Aegnor had done. From the days in which Faerinaal taught him all that he had known, to the necessary steps he had needed to take. To ensure that he would be Ayi'ig's chosen heir, that he would snatch that title from his sister. An almost melancholy of a smile turned up the edges of his lips, as his gaze focused once more on the spot that he had died. "I would like to believe that," he stated, for he knew that the fighting would never cease. Perhaps for he and Faerinaal, it had come to an end; but for Aegnor and the duties that now rested upon his shoulders?

Rebellion, treason; as if it had ever been that easy. Aegnor had died, upon another battlefield, within another life. He had died, and then he had been reborn. Into a darkness that knew no light, that clouded memories to ensure loyalty. "And how befitting for you to deal the final blow," his gaze shifted to Faerinaal. There was no hate within his gaze, no animosity for what the Founder had needed to do. Those memories of their time together were both his own, and of someone else. Aegnor was no longer the drow that the other had trained, no longer the man that he had pulled into his bed. And yet, those memories still lingered, still slipped in amid those of a past life.

The request came, as he knew it would have eventually. Faerinaal had always been the explorer of the two. Aegnor had preferred much different activities. As it were, he recounted the travels that he endured, the endless astral sea and the realms that they had found themselves in. Of the various races that they encountered; did Aegnor mention the Moonfolk, and the fun that ensued? In exchange for leaving out such a moment, he offered up the spyglass that he had been gifted. He told Faerinaal of Arvandor, and how he had not been permitted. And again, he left out the knowledge that Titania had been within it. Another moment that Aegnor had not been granted with his mother.

Finally, after a few more comments that he was certain Faerinaal would favor, Aegnor came to the part that he was sure would garner the most attention: Oberon and his new duty as another chosen heir. Of the blood that now filled his veins. But did he tell the other what his blood could do? Would Faerinaal already know such things? Once upon a time, perhaps he would have shared such details without worry. Now, he did not know where they stood. Faerinaal had given them the privacy to speak, yet what would be the outcome when Aegnor had relinquished such information. Would he be struck down once more?

"You would have greatly enjoyed such travels."

#aegnor

[faerinaal]

Ayi'ig had been but a pawn in the world of Lloth's choosing. They all knew this, and even Faerinaal, who believed that Lloth was still there to guide them through the hands of her chosen leaders, knew that Ayi'ig had her end. Whether or not it was to remain her end would be seen. "You see things too small, Nid. There are worlds beyond ours, Ayi'ig a tool in another storyline. Don't find your loyalty misplaced in a figure that used to be."

Ayi'ig's missive had been to claim the Faerie Court, the Otherworld, as the hierarchy of drow; her reign upon such conquering had been fleeting, but Nidhoggr took small comfort in the realization that shed had achieved when she had long aspired for. "My loyalty was to the Queen," one who had released a subjugated and incensed mind, a writhing beast turned into divinity, "But make no mistake that while I may not kneel to you, my loyalty remains in her absence." It needed not to be said and though Nidhoggr smirked at the mild implications of times long passed, there were small victories to look forward to as they all grieved.

#nidhogg

[faerinaal]

“No.” Not with his position, not with his nephew so close once more. Faerinaal had seen the Underdark, he’d traversed worlds that had swallowed others whole. He was accomplished, and the dark elf no longer needed to push for realms that were not theirs. The former Faerie Court suited them well; perhaps it was less of a hatred now for a society that had struggled to thrive. Ayi’ig had given her people a home, and she’d given her life for it. “I’ll stay because we need order. We no longer need to kill each other to survive, but the matriarchy stands. We have priestesses that will do Lloth’s will.” Lloth. A rebel queen herself, a story lost to the ages that even Faerinaal couldn’t tell if it was true or not.

"Within my mind? I still grieve. But in spirit? I've never been more well prepared." Ayi'ig's assassination had silenced the dragon for some time. In the wake of her passing, the dracaenae had found himself on the chaotic shores of Nastrond, perhaps in reminiscence of a loyalty that could not be replicated again. The Queen of Drow had freed him from such chaos, forged a friendship that would surpass the ages of udadrow since passed, but Nidhoggr would not go timid in face of her demise; it only bolstered his restless need to accomplish what she once vied for. "Are you to disappear again?" There's a lapse of understanding there spliced with hope that the Founder would not slip away when needed most.

#nidhogg

[faerinaal]

"Don't you think we've done enough fighting?" A dark elf once more, Faerinaal felt like his power had finally returned to him. The light of what he used to be, the fall of Hyperborea still within his memory, it was nothing compared to the shadow of what he'd felt. Ayi'ig was dead; both of Aegnor's apparent mothers were dead. Faerinaal did not wish to see the queen of fey dead, but Ayi'ig had held his allegiance. There was no war, there was no need to bring the head of the prophet to a people that didn't need them.

There was no apology, not from Faerinaal. There wouldn't be because while it had happened, it was how the fates had decided it. "We're no longer at war. There is no needless death. But your life has changed, Aegnor. Rebellion and treason was never going to go unanswered." There was more, though, the way that Aegnor now led a new faction of the dark elves. Faerinaal was always a scholar, and he was not beneath asking, "Tell me of your travels." Shadows swirled around them, perhaps privacy of some sorts as their surroundings changed; he had waited long enough to do this. Talking and anger never suited him, but he would give Aegnor this time.

Aegnor had never feared death. Not when he had been a prince of the fey, when he had been struck down upon the battlefield. Nor when he had been Oberon's chosen heir, when the Founder's blade had dealt its final blow. There had been high hopes within the lorendrow, to free those still trapped under Ayi'ig's spell. To liberate them, and restore the memories that had been sealed from them. He had hoped to find his new place within the world, caught somewhere between the fey and the drow. That had all slipped away from him, when Faerinaal had pressed their hands to his chest. As his final breath heaved itself from his lungs.

And then it had all changed. Life had been restored to him once more, as the city of Rome was cast through time. Returned to the moments before the battle had truly begun, and offered another chance to rewrite their futures. His own was once more left open, with memories that seemed to not be his own. Yet, he could still hear the Founder's words as they echoed in his mind, could still feel his breath upon him as his own shuddered as death neared.

The sound of the other approaching drew him from his thoughts, from the memories that stirred within his mind. The words drew his gaze, though he did not stir from his place. From where he could view the clearing that had been their last meeting, that had been where he had died. "If you have come for a fight, you'll have to find it elsewhere," words spoken after a few beats of his heart, after the silence had grown too profound.

#aegnor

[faerinaal]

@nidhoggx

He'd heard of the other's fate, whispers through the other world, the fight between Melpomene, Ayi'ig, and her dragon. Now, though, they were the two that remained. He stood beside his old friend, the drow court silent in front of them. Society continued on, and there was a lapse, almost. Something different. The dark elves would continue on, free from the pressing fate of the Underdark, able to live as they could with their society moving forward. There was no need for constant war. The idea that they needed to trample each other to get up in their world was no longer relevant, "Are you well?" They hadn't spoken, and Faerinaal still mourned their queen.

#nidhogg

[faerinaal]

@aegnorx Location: Fey Forest

They had fought; they had fought until it was the Founder staring down at the Prophet, bloodied and wounded. Faerinaal had lifted his sword beneath Aegnor's chin, the pressure ofo Ayi'ig's promise in his mind, the future that had been within their grip. He'd kneeled down beside Aegnor, the other's breath getting harder and harder to hear.

Taking his hand, Faerinaal placed it on Aegnor's chest, their fingers intertwined. The end was near, the fey were dying, the drow were dying, and now Aegnor had been cut down by his own hand. "There is no way to change the past," he whispered, leaning down now to rest his forehead against the other drow's. Aegnor took his last breath, and the world went silent.

The memories were there, and now they would not go away. Faerinaal had spent many years wandering the Underdark once more after the realm had become taken over by Tiamat. Now, though, he stood in the spot where he'd last seen Aegnor, where they'd met a final time. "I thought I'd find you here."

#aegnor

[faerinaal]

"It's in your eyes," Faerinaal murmured, behind Aegnor now as he kicked the back of the drow's knee, shoving him forward. He pulled his blade from his side now, shadows surrounding the two of them. He held his blade up, curious to see if Aegnor had learned anything new; anything that would surprise the Founder that had beaten the drow over and over again until he was convinced that maybe the former prince could hold his own. "If you yield, maybe you will have some use."

The shadows had crept along the rubble, expanded upon the area that Aegnor stood within. Destruction filled the air around him, singing out the decimation that had reached Rome's streets. For those that survived this war, no matter the side, it would be to nothing that they now reigned over. That would not be his focus, though. Not when a familiar voice slipped through the darkness, speaking his name into the shadows as they swelled around him. His own twin swords were at the ready, as they had been since the battle had started. "If you wish to see fear upon my face, then it seems you no longer know me," he sneered into the darkness. Fear was a long lost sensation to the now lorendrow, and Faerinaal would not get the satisfaction of seeing it from Aegnor. Not now, and certainly not if he were on his knees with a blade to his throat. "Show yourself, or are you to afraid to face me head on?"

#aegnor

[faerinaal]

“Am I known for my hesitation?” Faerinaal pulled his blade from the ground, the sharpened edges of it singing with an old revenant from the Underdark. An old friend that he’d had with him for centuries upon centuries, and even now, he put his trust in it for the war that raged around them. Another fey was cut down, another lycan whose pelt would warm the halls of the Drow Court — and Nyloth simply stood by and prayed. “Death is necessary for survival, and for the rebirth of this miserable realm.” Faerinaal knew there was magic in all things, even in this mortal realm that was being torn in two around Rome. “Those who stand against us will only meet their death.”

a gift for @faerinaal,

"I hope you will not hesitate when your blade is called upon," mercy and hesitancy was weakness upon the drow and it could be taken as a mocking insult as she chided the Founder. They were all original creatures of a dying age, the rest of the drow molded within their image as she, Faerinaal, and Felandaris were called from the cosmos to enact Ayi'ig's will. Nyloth and her sisters had agreed to utilize their prayer to enact Aegnor's downfall, the destruction of his forces, but it was Faerinaal who seemed keen on delivering the fatal blow.

#nyloth

[faerinaal]

@aegnorx

The language of the drow was carried on the shadows, encircling Aegnor even as the earth around them burned and cracked. The dominion of the drow would begin soon enough, and he had a lover to kill. "Aegnor," the last time they'd met, it had been a fight, and Faerinaal had watched the drow race away, back into the safety of the fey's forest. Now? That forest burned around them, and the Founder had a score to settle. "Don't fear the shadows, vhenan. Fear what's in them." Faerinaal's voice echoed around the two of them, though he slipped out of sight, blade at the ready. He had been alive for far too long to let this moment pass again, no matter how much it hurt, no matter what happened – he would be victorious for Ayi'ig, and they would claim what was theirs.

#aegnor

[faerinaal]

#mirror

[faerinaal]

#fae when he was exploring the underdark #mirror

[faerinaal]

"If you think yourself important enough to be an errand, then you're sorely mistaken." A wayward son, only glorified for the emotional gag it would've had on Titania. The archfey wasn't even present any longer in this world, and so ran out Aegnor's usefulness. There was an anger inside Faerinaal, one that hinted of betrayal, though he idly wondered why these memories were held with such weight in Aegnor's mind. Faerinaal had never lost the part of himself that had died with Hyperborea. These drow were too far cut off from what they used to be, a sad version of what they were. Aegnor, however, had been changed. "Do you think you can fight me and win?"

A new age was upon the Eladrin, from the death of a king to their returned heroes, each seemingly possessing a new gift. Much had happened on the trek through the Otherworld, even for himself, and it seemed much had happened back in the forest. What that would mean for the Eladrin? For the drow still deeply connected to Ayi'ig? Aegnor wasn't certain, but the death of Meryasek could not go unanswered. And while he should have consulted with Farenduil, should have sought out the drow that had escaped Ayi'ig's rule already, he ventured elsewhere. Anger had certainly never been quelled easily for the once prince.

The forest had not been far behind him when the shadows swirled about his legs, as they took hold and stilled him in his steps. The blade across his back was pulled quickly, easily as he awaited the fight that was certain to follow the show of shadows. Even his own swirled about him, waiting for the enemy to show themselves. Though he anticipated Somniar, perhaps even Severon, the surprise of seeing the Founder did not seep into his features. No, Aegnor would not give him that benefit. Instead, he lifted his sword to meet his former teacher, his former guidance, and most importantly, his former lover. He could see the anger etched into those familiar features, and Aegnor knew he could not let himself be overpowered. Not here, not now. "You've offered to run her errands now, have you?"

#aegnor

[faerinaal]

Nid was a welcome companion, an old friend that surpassed death. Faerinaal cleaned the blood from his blade, though he kneeled to close the eyes of the deceased that he had cut down. Many were mindless, ready to bloody all those they came across, but Faerinaal was too old for things like that. He enjoyed a fight, never to cross someone in the back like one had done to the Soratami that was killed in front of him. The drow had been dealt with, sent back to the Underdark, and the general turned to his old friend, "No, but they were a grand people. One that will help us in the coming fight, no matter their fate."

As all of the fallen high elves of Hyperborea were resurrected and constructed to the original visage of drow, Nid was freed from his chains in the same breath. Faerinaal was the subject of favoritism that could only propel Aegnor so far, the Prophet's failure still a stench upon them as the Founder settled into the role as though he'd never left. "Seemed almost too easy," it was an affirmation, the ichor of the Moonfolk staining armor and coloring blades; the soratami conquered and at the mercy of the court of Drow. "Their stagnancy did not absolve them from war." There was much to accomplish but the dracaenae turned divine had learned to savor in the goals accomplished, even for just a mere second.

#nidhogg

[faerinaal]

Severon was a child with too many toys, that much Faerinaal could tell. All things considering, he was useful, so the drow didn't bother with the slight pull of reminiscence that Severon seemed to joke about. "You have a lot to learn from them, child. Just because you have a few thoughts that worked out doesn't mean you're better than those here." The creature on the ground could've been Severon and Faerinaal wouldn't have blinked an eye. "An air of overconfidence will be your downfall if you don't pay attention to the lessons to be learned."

“Stagnation is the same as death,” Severon muttered. “Worse.” Because at least in death the eladrin changed, changed to something far better. Severon remembered both an elven life and a fey life but neither one compared to what he had made in this life. The Moonfolk, such docile and stupid creatures with their wonderous technology that served them for nothing but hedonism and play. Wasted potential. They had been so easily crushed by his war machines, their beasts and their armies. But he couldn’t expect all of the Queen’s enemies to be so ill-prepared. So Severon was ever-determined to improve that which he knew had to be. And with help from the Soratami's knowledge and the Artificer’s own plans, this would come to pass.

He inhaled deeply. “Indeed a fun lesson... A shame I have some business to attend to in the mortal realm so soon, I cannot linger to do more than order what must be brought back to the Court.” Severon finally turned his head to the Founder and smiled. “Shall you be staying longer to reminisce?” 

#severon

[faerinaal]

Faerinaal remembered the days of ease. When Hyperborea stood – and when it fell. He'd survived as long as he could, stood in front of his nephew, too bright to die too soon. But it was their fate, and from it, they were risen again for Ayi'ig, first of the drow, and ready to lead them into the darkness. He was leaning on the sword he'd stuck into the ground, the silence around him welcoming until Felan's voice broke it. A welcome companion, as he always was, but Faerinaal did not open his eyes as he remained still, "The age of old remained untouched below us." He remembered when Felandaris was young, the bright eyes as Faerinaal had told him of the other worlds, the ones where water flowed into the sky, and the floor was endless, "Golems, creatures that remained undisturbed for centuries." He opened his eyes now, the shadows in front of the two of them creating a better picture than he could've spoken. It ended suddenly, a grin on Faerinaal's face as he looked at Felan, "Did you miss me that much?"

@faerinaal location: Court of Drow notes: kiss kiss fall in love

“Uncle.” By marriage, clearly. Felandaris greeted the warrior with uncharacteristic warmth as he took a seat next to the other. The others and the Queen would arrive shortly, for now they had the meeting chambers to themselves. “Good of you to join us after Aegnor’s unfortunate betrayal.” Weak, that’s all Felandaris could see it as. To return to the kingdom of a monarchy that had moved on from him, it was embarrassing - among the drow Aegnor had been their prophet. Now he was nothing more than a foot soldier in his formerly deceased child-brother’s army. “Tell me of your travels, the Underdark must have been a perilous journey.”

#felandaris