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Note Number:
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91
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Author:
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Chael
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Date:
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Thu
Aug 22, 2002; 17:27:18
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To:
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All
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Subject:
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A
Sudden Departure
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He knew it before his eyes fully opened. She was gone. The dimness of
the morning sun rise told him that much, and the faint taste of one last
kiss told him the parting wasn't easy. His heart ached at the loss, knowing
the next time he saw her might be skewered upon a blade. Maybe his own...
Such thoughts are left for those that are young and pine away their most
productive years. Not this veteran dark elf. He wanted to know the why,
the where, the how, and all the other little detail questions one would
quickly ask in the same situation. Too bad he also knew the bitter answer.
Only time will tell. Over 5 centuries had taught him that lesson, yet
never did Chael abide waiting. Waiting, while the Creator knows is happening
to her. Waiting to know if there was really love there, or if she was
just a talented agent of Jagang. Maybe some of both... The crashing of
a crystal wine goblet startled him out of his brooding thoughts. After
quickly scanning his room, Chael realized it had been himself that hurled
the now destroyed missle. Anger... Such an anger he had not felt in centuries...
Fueled by a hurt he knew might come, but never could have he fathomed
its depths. He quickly composed himself. A man such as himself should
not behave this way. A man? Maybe in years, but in such a thing as this
he was but a small child. Chael drew himself up to his full height and
seemed to come to some decission within himself. "You made your bed
Chael, now lie in it and deal with whatever sweet dreams or sadistic nightmares
that may and will come." Those words he spoke strongly with conviction,
akin to a guilotine blade falling...
Throwing on an old cloak, Chael departed the File's home and discreetly made his way to the grove where he had first secretly met Azurite. He had saved her life that day... She had loved this place, particularly the lazy swing made from vines. Making his way to the center of his hidden grove, Chael approached the swing and twined within the vines her favorite purple flowers and left a note. The words of which were written in an ancient elven script. He hoped she was as dutiful a scholar as she had been a friend. Then, in a gesture of some import only Chael would know, Chael carved an ancient rune and drove his dagger hilt deep into the great oak from which the swing hung. Chael turned crisply and swift and more quiet than a shadow slipped into the growing darkness the dimming sun battled. Apt that, for it mirrored the turmoil in his heart. |
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