[This is a solo RP about people from Demagul's painful past coming back into his life. I'm writing it in very short sections, but I should be able to post them rather quickly. I hope you like it!]
Chapter 1
It was a cool, quiet evening on the road to the Bronze Doors. As the light from the Azure Sun slowly faded, a male Nolthrir sat on the top of a hill, keenly listening to clackers several hills away, and watching the trepors mingling below him. While this area was usually swarming with miners, it was strangely deserted on this evening. "If only you were here to see this." The Nolthrir said quietly to himself.
The clackers eventually stopped chirping, and one by one, the trepors fell asleep. When the crystal was almost at its dimmest, the Nolthrir stood up and looked into a ring on right hand. "Oratic" He whispered into it. There was just enough light to see that his eyes were filled with tears.
A beautiful drifter appeared and the Nolthrir looked into its deep, dark eyes for what seemed to him like hours. Then, he took his left hand and gently rubbed its head before mounting it, careful not to scratch his companion with is boots. A quiet, sorrowful tune escaped his lips as he rode off into the darkness.
Several minutes passed before his song stopped and the Nolthrir looked behind him to see a dark figure disappear over a hill. With a dented dagger in his right hand and a shield in his left, he unmounted his drifter and cautiously approached the hill. "Who are you?" He called. His voice was relatively high for a male of his race, but it was not at all shallow. The sound echoed for a moment, then there was silence.
"Jarrh, is that you?" He cried out, his voice now trembling with fear. Again, there was silence. By now, the Nolthrir was near the top of the hill. Once more, he attempted calling to the unknown creature. "Answer me!"
"As you wish, foolish Nolthrir." Said a cold, male voice. The Nolthrir instinctively began to turn around, but a gloved hand covered his eyes before he could see his foe.
"Turn your head back around, little fish, or you will meet my dagger. " He pushed the Nolthrir's head back, and held his hand on his eyes.
"Wha… what are you?"
"A friend of a friend, Demagul. You need not know any more."
The Nolthrir, Demagul, began to shake. "You know…"
"Sal-din" The mysterious figure replied before Demagul could finish. "Now, will you be a good little fish if I take my hand off of your face?" Tears began to form in Demagul's eyes. Afraid to speak and risk crying, he nodded.
"Very well." Said his foe, drawing his hand back. Immediately, Demagul jumped forward and tightened his grip on his dagger. He turned around to see a black dagger fly towards his chest. He screamed as it penetrated his skin, and quickly fell to the ground. As his vision darkened, Demagul had just enough time to recognize his enemy as a cutthroat. His face concealed by his cloak. As much pain as the dagger caused, though, he knew that the worst was yet to come.
