Monarchs Glen

Light filtered through the cracks of the wall, falling over an ancient blade lying amidst the rubble. The steel glinted even through the thick layer of dust that had gathered on it for hundreds of years, the hand that had died clutching it no more then dust itself with the passing of time. The silence of this makeshift tomb hadn't been broken since the fall of the city that housed it, but fate had decreed that its time at rest was over.

Steady steps drew closer to the sword but not the footfalls of a creature on two feet. A rotten board was pushed aside causing the wall to lean even further, coming closer to collapse. The light shifted as the hole it came through moved and it no loner fell across the blade, but upon the snout of a monstrous wolf, golden eyes gleaming through the darkness. It sniffed at the wall hesitantly before turning towards the blade.

If wolves could grin, this one did.

It stepped back into the shadows and silence fell over the tomb again for only a moment before a man broke through the darkness. Golden eyes pierced the darkness around him as he looked around the collapsing building, silver hair falling over his face as he moved almost ghostlike over bricks and wood. A smile spread as he caught sight of the blade. He knelt down and gently pushed away the dust almost lovingly.

"It's been so long," he whispered. Strong fingers gripped the hilt and he pulled it from the rubble the smile spread.

The wooden beam snapped, finally giving into time, and the wall collapsed, bringing with it the entire building. Dust bloomed from what had once been the barracks of the city and the ground trembled. Other buildings nearby shook and some collapsed as well. The entire city echoed with the sound, a city that had fallen ages ago to an enemy of blood, enemies of magic, and finally the enemy of time. From the ruined gates burst a massive wolf the size of a war-steed and it bound off into the thick forest that surrounded the city where once had been tilled land.

-----

The golden-eyed man stepped out of the forest clad in silver armor with a blood red cloak, the ancient sword from the city hanging at his side. He stood there, at the edge of the clearing, and waited there. He had been called here, drawn, and he had raced here from the city for days, only resting to sleep and to hunt, eating on the run. What had drawn here was unclear, only that it was strong and only stepping here on this ground ceased it.

"So, I'm here," he called out. He felt a little foolish at doing so but part of him felt it was right.

"Such would appear to be the case."

She sat on the ground of the clearing with her back against a half rotten stump, perhaps a remnant of the forest that had once filled this clearing with trees, and then again perhaps not. She had watched with mild interest as the man encroached upon her quiet contemplation and solitude, not to mention respite from outsiders. His attire was dazzling, nay, blinding in the full light of the sun, and she had to squint her curiously purple eyes in order to even see him. Armed and armored, or not, she did not make any move to stand.

"Now, of course, the question is whether that is to be a blessing or a curse. I've had enough of this lands renewed fanatical devotion to deceased deities, and by the looks of it you are another of those slavering, unkempt ruffians that think picking up a banner and crying out the name of your chosen sanctifies and justifies whatever silliness happens to come across your short-lived mind." Her tone was acerbic, nearly acidic. Irritation didn't even begin to cover the emotion she felt at present. She had come here because there was no one for miles in any direction. Now. Or rather, had been. "So please, good Sir, do tell me what is worth coming into my clearing and disrupting my peaceful thoughts."

Sniffing the air, Calen began to circle around the clearing cautiously. This woman reeked of magic, a miasma that swallowed every other scent, and he had learned long ago to not take that lightly. A finger traced the wolf-paw hilt of the sword, a sword he had just retrieved from a city that his clan had failed to protect long ago and a symbol that failure and as if gaining strength from the piece of metal, he took a step towards her.

"Whether the gods have returned to this blighted land is not my concern, woman," he called to her. He pulled the cloak over his armour, the light shining off him blinking away as the silver was covered. "For all I care, all of them can go back to where they came from. But I was drawn here." He waved his hand to indicate the clearing. "My kind have always been drawn to the forests, but never have I been so called."

Golden eyes blinked suspiciously. "Are you the one that did the summons? Or do I have to wait here for another?"

She stopped shading her eyes, a ghost of a smile crossing her face, fleetingly. She eyed him more closely, now that she could see him more clearly without the glare. She still made no move to rise, in greeting or alarm. If anything, her face hardened for a moment, then stilled itself to calm. "I have made no summons, pup." She cocked her head to one side, and then the other. "Or whatever you are. I was quite content to be left alone, but now that my time of peace has come to an irritating end I will be quite content to aggravate you at length."

She stood with glacial slowness, almost as if to ease herself into it. SHe more than leaned on her staff as she got to her feet, swaying for a brief moment before regaining her balance. She eyed the woods briefly, casting an unsettling glance at him as she did so. "I don't hear any more of you. You come alone?"

"I really hope you did. I am not in the mood for a party. I have had my fill of trouble this day." She paused, putting a finger to her lips as if in contemplation. She looked up at him again, squinting. "And you would be...?"

The circling of the clearing stopped. Calen considered the implications of the question she asked. If he admitted to be alone, then this woman might change her stance drastically. Even with the gods gone for as long as they were, there were followers that were avid that their belief's were the true one and being an unaligned, he was often target for their violence. A hand tightened on the hilt of the sword and eyes glowed fiercely.

Fingers brushed up against the silver armor and a burning sensation rang through his hand. He pulled it away quickly and placed his hand next down to his side. The silver in his armor protected him from his own men, allowing him to keep dominance over the clan, but it was still harmful to himself. Being an alpha over the rest of his men wasn't always an easy job and now more then ever, members were challenging him. They had traditionally been followers of the god known as Barnabas and few enjoyed that their leader was not.

"My men did not follow me here, if that is what you wish to know." Truthfully he didn't know where they had went. When he had left the city with the sword in toe, his clan had claimed they had gotten a summons to the west but he alone didn't hear it. Only this pull, this pull to the clearing.

If this woman didn't do the summons, who or what did?

"Calen," he answered finally to her question. "And you?"