Chapter 1 - Elven magic

Altair Van-Lat Valchello, was always known as a very adventurous fellow. Always running off in the middle of the night as a child, Altair found himself constantly at edge with his Father, and Mother about him sneaking out at night. He would go, and flirt with lasses, or spend time at taverns. In the end, of course, he always came back home - very early in the morning. He wondered if it was because of his private teacher's tales of adventurous warriors, and mages that always set him off.

Unlike most men in the land of Reledan, Altair was more of a rogue. He dared not take up sword, and shield, and head out for the army of King Godrin. No, he'd rather train himself in the arts of subtly, and head out into the wilds, seeking adventure, and excitment. After stealing a majority of his Father's wealth, of course.

Altair was a young, strapping lad. Bathed in the gentle tan of the sun, he, like most Reledan humans, was gifted with the beautiful skin of many of his kin. A prominent beard-moustache combination set upon his face, all colored a nice tone of caroal, to combine dutifully with his tanned skin. He was also tall, like most humans, like most males. Fully formed, he stood at six feet, and two inches. Quite a degree of height versus most of his former allies.

The adolescent was well-built as well. His stomach had flat-lined, and his abdomen muscles showed clearly through his rather tight, leather armor. The armor, which he created himself, was made out of a rare leather material. Magic resistent, it absorbed spells, and the durability of the armor was improved by the fatigue of the user. The more tired he was, the stronger the armor became. The rare, Darkmight armor became a symbol to the rich - or the stealthy.

Within the forest of Brellic, Altair walked. He had been told that the Elves of Sinmarr had just arrived, merely days ago on their yearly pilgramige to the city of Yurti. Based on the rumors Altair heard, Elves, both male and female, were beautiful. He had been told from various sources that the Elves were once a race so lovely, they were enslaved purely for their rare bodies. Altair thought different, thinking they were enslaved simply for manual labor. But the historians of the world would say others.

While Altair was not much of a navigator, he did know where he was going. The trees of Brellic grew darker the further one entered the forest. It was said that a long time ago, a powerful mage, the very first, created a portal to the world of the God of creation. However, the world of the God was so intense, that the two worlds could not connect, and so the forest was burned from the center, outwards. Of course, due to the sin of this mage, the God of Creation, re-planted the forest. However, the center of the forest was so damaged with magic, that the trees grew improperly, and that Creation could not repair it no matter how much he wished. Because of the sins of this mage, he refused to continue creating things by his hand.

The young lad stopped as the trees turned from dark-brown bark, to black wood. His arm gently brushed against the scarred tree. Thoughts of pain, and misery set into the lad's mind. He pulled his arm back, taking a gulp of any mouthly liquids that may have connected. With a frown, he continued onwards. No tree of shadowy memories would keep him from seeing a couple of beautiful elves!

Then, a noise.

Altair turned around, drawing his daggers from his belt. The two blades pressed to life with a green, and a white enchantment. The colors of each blade gave light to the darkened wood. A recreation in the death of a forest. Altair had been startled, and his gut had told him that what had occured was not simply his imagination.

Another noise. A soft purr, perhaps? Or the humming of a deadly beast. The suspense was killing Altair, mentally of course. He licked his lips, eyes casting over the woods once more. He wondered where could it be. He wondered what it was. If it was an it, at all.

The noise died down. But his blades did not.

The man gave another look around the forest. There was nothing. Not the noise of the creature, not the song of a bird. With a frown, he turned.

Then, the beast.

A forest wolf, coated in gray, and drooling saliva, leaped at Altair. He brought his arm up at the last possible second. The wolf bit into the leather, and began to chew. The armor had only so many layers of padding that could keep the beast's teeth out. He was running out of time!

Padding the ground, searching for his dropped dagger, Altair grew frantic. He could not feel the blade he so-much desired. The object had dissappeared from all sight. He was seating, atop of panting. The blade was gone! His blade was gone! It couldn't be, it couldn't be! He needed to survive, to see what these beautiful Elves looked like, he needed to experience carnal pleasures of these exotic creatures! He had not even prayed once in his life to the God of Creation! There would be no desirable afterlife for him! Only the cold, the black, and the endless pit of the Underworld. The place of mystery, and-

A spark of fire came from behind Altair. This spark turned into a fully-formed ball, and the ball was aimed for the beast. It struck it dead-on the head. The beast's head evaporated into ash. The rest of it's body slowly followed. Much like water being poured on an individual, it stretched outwards from the spot of contact. The beast's body was no more. In years of life, it was ended in seconds of death.

Altair dropped his head, and sighed. His eyes were shut, his relief had caused a massive spasm of enjoyment flowing through him. But then the questions came.

Who? What? How?

His eyes opened, and he searched the woods that were behind him. A faint shimmer, a quick motion. A person! Altair tuned his head back, checked his wound - saw that his skin was revealed, but not peirced - and then ran for the figure.

"Hey!" His voice shouted. "Wait!"

Altair leaped over stumps, collided into trees, rolled, recovered. He leaped over small ledges, all in attempts to chase the moving huminoid figure in the forest. He could see the figure! It was robed, small, probably a short female. Yes, he could see her! He would find her, catch her, thank her! Maybe even kiss her!

Another leap had occured. This time, the fall was greater. He collided on a bent-knee, rolled forward, and recovered. His vision had become dizzy, for only but a few seconds. His eyes almost lost trace of the figure, but he found it! He chased it again, seeking it, wanting it. It was an addiction, a need, a want! Whatever this person was, it was his goal to interact.

And then it vanished. But Altair kept running. He kept running for the figure, the person, whoever she, or he was. He wanted to find this person, and assumed by following the forest, he would find her. His eyes never left where he assumed the figure was. But from the trees, he could tell he was heading outside the forest. The color was returning, slowly, slowly. He could see the grass returning to the floor. Additional, beautiful flora of various colors came around.

Another shimmer appeared. He chased the shimmer down. It turned from the faint shifting of a shadow to the gentle glistening of sparkling lights. Yes, yes! It would be his, he would catch it! He would-

Altair could not help but suddenly plummet to the ground. What was once a field of trees turned into a face-full of grass. He grunted as he hit the ground, it hurt. His head slowly came up to see where he was. There was a forest, there were trees. But now?

Now it was a meadow.

His eyes looked around, seeking where all the trees went. He did not recall seeing a meadow. He only recalled seeing trees. Trees, trees, and more trees. But now, there was grass. Lots of beautiful, healthy green grass. In the center of this meadow, appeared to be a tree stump. And in the middle... A person?

Altair blinked many times, and rubbed his eyes many times. Was he dreaming? No, impossible. He could not be dreaming. His mind would be playing a very cruel trick on him, indeed.

Grunting, he pushed up from the floor, and dusted himself off. His eyes cast a look around the meadow once more. There were trees on the outside of the meadow, but he saw no exit. They were too pressed together. He looked behind him, and saw the trees were also enclosed together. Had he found a secret location?

Turning back, Altair walked forward towards the center of the meadow. As he drew closer, he could make out the facts - there was a figure there, a female. He could not make out details, not yet. But he saw she was sitting inside the stump, almost like a tree-chair. Behind the stump, in the background, he saw a pure spring pond. The water was crystal-clear, a small waterfall behind it supported the endless stream. It looked like a beautiful dream.

He stopped in his tracks. Was he dead? Was this the God of Creation's paradise? The individual sent into a beautiful location where he, or she could enjoy the company of a single woman? Was this the God of Creation's world? Carnal pleasures, and beautiful landscape?

Slapping himself, he realized that if he was dead, he could not be here. The God of Creation required one prayer made to Him each year of a person's life. If someone had never prayed to Him in their entire life, and reached the age of Fifty, they would have to pray Fifty times to enter his Afterlife. Altair was twenty-one, and he had prayed zero times. 

After his momentary slap was done, he continued. He continued to walk to the stump. The figure was coming into better detail, yes. It was indeed a woman. She black hair reaching down, long enough to cover her breasts. Which it was doing. Her skin was a healthy-green, and it seemed as though vines, very curling-around vines had adorned her arms, and legs. His eyes scanned down to her crotch, for unknown reasons. The vines had swirved around that region much like very small leggings. His eyes trailed back.

Altair stopped, merely feet from the woman. She looked up at him with shadowy eyes. One could not make out how she saw, but eyes were eyes. Altair's fingers twitched, staring at the beauty of the woman. She would be more beautiful to him if her breasts were uncovered, though. They looked enormous.

Raising a hand, he smiled.

"Uh, hi! Are you the woman who saved me from the killer wolf?"
"Me?"
"Yes, you."
"No."
"Huh."

The vine-lady stood up from her seat, very slowly. Altair raised his eyebrows in question. The vine-lady turned to her side, and pointed towards the pond. Altair followed her hand, and found a second figure by the water, someone was sitting by the pond, kicking their feet.

"That is the lady who saved you."
"A woman?"
"Yes."
"Oh, thank you!"
"You are welcome, human."
"Uhrm, if you don't mind me asking: What are you?"
"Me?"
"Yes, you."

The vine-lady arched her back, and exhaled strongly. The human raised a brow in question to this mannerism. He found it odd, but did not mind it alltogether due to the beauty of this delicate creature in front of him.

"I am Florana."
"A what now?"
"Florana. I am a daughter of Creation."
"Oh! So, you're the daughter of the God of Creation?!"
"Yes."
"So he -IS- real!"
"You do not believe the evidence he left you?"
"No, no, I do. But, some people don't."
"People are ignorant."
"Yeah. Oh, hey, where am I?"
"Here?"
"Yes, here."

The Florana-creature sat back down in her seat. She looked around, and then up. Altair followed her eyes, and gasped as he looked to the sky. In the sky, he saw a very large meadow, that was compressed to a smaller size. People of various races, wearing various clothing were seen. From what he could tell, they were all quite happy.

"You are in Mu'mu'tet."
"Eh, what?"
"Mu'mu'tet. Land of Flora."
"And that is.... what?"
"You are in Mu'mu'tet. Land of Flora. A realm that those gifted by the God of generosity can access. Above you is Mu'tet. Land of the Creation."
"So... that's the Afterlife?"
"That is Mu'tet. You are in Mu'mu'tet."

Altair cast a long glance of the land he saw. It seemed to span on for many more miles which were out of his eyesight. Not only that, but the trees were quite large. He could not look past the land, as the trees acted much like a barrier. He frowned.

"Uh, thank you, vine-lady."
"I am Florana."
"Thank you, Florana."
"You are welcome."

The human turned away from Florana, and jogged down to the pond. As he came close, he could see the female of which the woman spoke of. It was indeed an elf, but she was turned around. Her back was to him, and this only made him frown. She was clothed in deep, dark-brown robes. A large 'wizard' hat adorned her head, with the pointy-spike-end tilting, and facing off to the side. Her feet were kicking in the water, and she seemed to be ignoring the approaching human. However, as he approached, she spoke.

"You have some nerve going into the forest, alone. Especially that deep."
"Yeah, I was... I was uh, trying to find the Elves. I heard they're beautiful. Oh, and I wanted to thank you for saving me."
"You're lookin' at an elf, buddy. And of course, your welcome."
"Uh, I'm looking at your back."
"I'm still an elf."
"Ahuh."
"Fine."

The elf jumped up, her feet splashed water in various directions. Her tiny, soaked, bare feet were in view. They were a very glistening-white in skin tone. Altair was attracted to the feet, alone. His eyes were wide with surprise, mouth agape.

As she turned around, Altair could see her. The rumors were true.

The elf was young, probably slightly younger than him. Her face had a complexion of perfection. Cheek bones were the right height, skin was as clean as a whistle. Her eyes were large, and swelling like a water-filled sack. The green colored hues of her eyes, matching her long, lime-colored hair only added to her beauty. Her skin, much like her feet, was whitened. It was close to pale, but not so close as it made her appear ugly. Her ears came to a sharp point, and despite the height differences of where they stood, she seemed to be slightly shorter than him.

Altair dropped to his knees, holding his arms together. Quietly, he began to recite the prayer of Creation, that he learned as a child. The elf raised an eyebrow inquisitvely at him. She was concerned he was crazy, or insane. She took a step back, back into the water.

"What are you doing?" She asked.
"I was... praying to the God of Creation. My God, you are so beautiful!"
"What? Praying?"
"Yes, we pray to the God of Creation, he is-"
"I know who he is. But, you pray?"
"Yes... we have to, or we don't go to his realm when he die."
"Oh, so the rumors are true."
"What?"
"We Elves, particularly we Forest-elves, don't need to pray to Cret'ati. We are granted his afterlife by default by being Forest-elves. However, we are told that he does not look so favorabley upon humans."
"... Huh?"
"Look," The elf sighed. "I don't want to get into a history lesson. Let's just leave it as: Humans are very evil, and leave it at that."
"Oh."

The elf brought one of her arms to the other. She took ahold of her arm, inches below the shoulder. One of her very long, very thin eyebrows came up as she continued to stare at the kneeling human. Upon Altair discovering he was still kneeling, he stood up.

"You are so beautiful." He said, again.
"Yeah, thanks. I get that alot from my tribe."
"No, you are beautiful! I am in pure awe at you!"
"Huh? Your women aren't like me?"
"NO!"
"... Calm down."
"Sorry."

The elf sighed, and looked down to her boots which were collected neatly on the floor. Her feet, although soaked in the water of the pond, felt quite cold. She considered dipping her feet back into the boots, but the fact that she was wet, she did not want to.

"So, why did you save me? And... bring me here?"
"Why did I save you? Because I value life. Why did I bring you here? Because you followed me."
"Wait, you didn't bring me here?"
"No, I came through a Shi'plin. Shimmer Portal. You must've found it in time, and came in. I didn't think you'd find it, until I sensed your presence. Then I justed decided to wait until you came to me."
"What is this place exactly?"
"This is my personal realm of Mu'mu'tet."
"... And that is...?"
"Mu'mu'tet is a mental world created by a mage, that is connected to either the God of Creation, or the God of Destruction, depending on the person's soul, and moral values. Each Mu'mu'tet is shaped depending on the person's desires, and the God it is linked to."
"Wait, the God of Destruction is real?!"
"Yes, he represents humans."
"WHAT?!"

The elf let out a giggle.

"What, you thought the God of Creation looked and smiled upon you?"
"Uh, yeah."
"He doesn't. He set standards for your race."
"Grr."
"Oh, hush."

Altair sighed, and then walked closer to the elf. She turned her head to the side, showing him the side of her eyes, and her pointy, drawn-back ear. He stopped in his tracks, and mentally drooled at the mere presence of her beauty.

"Do you... want something, human?"
"Huh? Oh! Uh, a name would be nice."
"You want a name?"
"No! I want your name."
"Oh. Silvanette Hyulvin Tarkonsoliseth of Magi."
"... Uh."
"Silva, for short."
"Oh. I'm very pleased to meet you, Silva! I'm Altair Van-Lat Valchello. Altair, for short."
"Nice to meet you... Altair."



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