Brief Red Sans #3 update
Jan. 11th, 2005 10:50 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sparkindarknessCutting off here because I don't want to do anything drastic to the water horse yet :)
Elsas looked down into the poor creature’s eye and despaired. He couldn’t help it, he knew he couldn’t. All his boasted power, all his dreams of becoming a great wizard,. and here, his first test and he failed. He cursed himself for all those lessons he missed back at the college, all those times he dodged past the old masters so he could watch the Blade Dancers train. All that time he had wasted as a foolish child dreaming of being a great wizard and a master swordsmen, like some of the great elven heroes of legend. All that time practising how to swing a bloody sword because he wasn’t interested in any magic that he couldn't fry someone with. All those lessons missed, all those tests failed - they all came back to haunt him in the pain filled gaze of the mercorn.
Guilt burned through him until he was hurting nearly as much as the stricken creature. He watched as his two fool companions mechanically dragged another coat full of salt water to dampen the strange hide of the creature. He saw the request, the plea. The plea to end the pain. A plea that could only be answered one way. His finger traced his knife at his belt.
Anger washed through him nearly as strong as the guilt. He was an elf. A creature that lived for centuries. A creature that revered life because taking a life meant ending centuries of existence of centuries worth of potential. A being that had been taught from birth to value the life of all intelligent creatures as a sacred gift. A reverence that was so strong that deciding to become a mercenary when he had been asked to leave the college had cost him weeks of mental anguish and soul searching... This creature was asking too much.
Yet it asked all the same with those agonised eyes. Could he refuse a plea from one of Anastonas’ blessed creatures? Did he dare risk the Sea God’s wrath? Could he leave a creature in such pain? Of course, he had never been much of a student of theology either. What was Anastonas’ position on euthanasia of his chosen sacred creatures, anyway?
Sighing, the elf took a deep breath and drew his knife. He would take the horn to a temple, afterwards. they would know what to do. Maybe they could even resurrect the creature, such things were possible with holy beings. It was a vague hope, but one he clung to.
He met the creature’s gaze and moved the knife to its throat.
Elsas looked down into the poor creature’s eye and despaired. He couldn’t help it, he knew he couldn’t. All his boasted power, all his dreams of becoming a great wizard,. and here, his first test and he failed. He cursed himself for all those lessons he missed back at the college, all those times he dodged past the old masters so he could watch the Blade Dancers train. All that time he had wasted as a foolish child dreaming of being a great wizard and a master swordsmen, like some of the great elven heroes of legend. All that time practising how to swing a bloody sword because he wasn’t interested in any magic that he couldn't fry someone with. All those lessons missed, all those tests failed - they all came back to haunt him in the pain filled gaze of the mercorn.
Guilt burned through him until he was hurting nearly as much as the stricken creature. He watched as his two fool companions mechanically dragged another coat full of salt water to dampen the strange hide of the creature. He saw the request, the plea. The plea to end the pain. A plea that could only be answered one way. His finger traced his knife at his belt.
Anger washed through him nearly as strong as the guilt. He was an elf. A creature that lived for centuries. A creature that revered life because taking a life meant ending centuries of existence of centuries worth of potential. A being that had been taught from birth to value the life of all intelligent creatures as a sacred gift. A reverence that was so strong that deciding to become a mercenary when he had been asked to leave the college had cost him weeks of mental anguish and soul searching... This creature was asking too much.
Yet it asked all the same with those agonised eyes. Could he refuse a plea from one of Anastonas’ blessed creatures? Did he dare risk the Sea God’s wrath? Could he leave a creature in such pain? Of course, he had never been much of a student of theology either. What was Anastonas’ position on euthanasia of his chosen sacred creatures, anyway?
Sighing, the elf took a deep breath and drew his knife. He would take the horn to a temple, afterwards. they would know what to do. Maybe they could even resurrect the creature, such things were possible with holy beings. It was a vague hope, but one he clung to.
He met the creature’s gaze and moved the knife to its throat.
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Date: 2005-01-14 12:27 am (UTC)