OOC: BANZAI!
Sorry for being away for so long.
BoT:
*Tyravael's image appeared before Vox's eyes.*
Tyravael: T'was not she who bore his child... T'was the spirit of the Queen, embodying Peace. Speak not unto thy brother of this, for her name is like an open ound, sill bleeding.
*Tyravael's image disappeared.
Elsewhere, the Final Warrior confronted Quietstorm, where they quickly slip into a different tongue.*
Quietstorm: What is it, Warrior?
Final Warrior: There is no need to regard thy teacher in such a way.
Quietstorm: Speak not unto me as though thou'rt mine master.
Final Warrior: ... poor child, if only ye knew.
Quietstorm: Knew what? And I am not a child, even if thou'rt ages my elder.
Final Warrior: ... There is no way for me to say this...
Quietstorm: Say what?
Final Warrior: Thy sire... he is...
Quietstorm: Dead? yes, that is true.
Final Warrior: Nay, thy sire has not passed... well, his mortal form has, but in spirit, he lives.
Quietstorm: So thou'rt saying that thou can speak unto the dead?
Final Warrior: Nay... I, I am thy father.
Quietstorm: What?... Did... Didst I mistake what thou has spoken?
Final Warrio: Nay. Quietstorm, I am thy sire.
Quietstorm: And... my mother?
Final Warrior: Thy mother is the Queen of Roses.
Quietstorm: But... the Lady Rhianna had passed long ago.
Final Warrior: And the spirit which took up her body bore you. Her spirit has gone from here... leaving me with only the curse of immortality. I... I am sorry for keeping this so long from you... the Drow chased you for your blood. You have been hunted for your heritage. Now I give it to you, as the prophecy decreed.
*Quietstorm kneeled beofre his father, deep in thought. The Final Warrior closed his battleworn eyes, passing strength, wisdom, knowledge, loyalty, and valor into his son. Before Quietstorm materialized a blade.*
Final Warrior: By all the Gods of Mortal beliefs...
Quietstorm: What is it?
Final Warrior; i have ot set eyes on his blade since my love, your mother, departed of me... It is the Angel's Battle Mourn... she gives it to you, son. Take it.
*Quietstorm rose and gripped the blade's hilt. It seemed to conform to his hand. on the ground laid the sheath. Quietstorm sheathed the blade, buckling it onto his waist. He turned to go.*
Final Warrior: My son... wait. I know this is hard for you to bear.
Quietstorm: You abandoned me.
Final Warrior: I trained you.
Quietstorm: You beat me.
FInal Warrior: I taught you.
Quietstorm: You hid me.
FInal Warrior: I showed you.
Quietstorm: You took from me.
FInal Warrior: I toughened you.
Quietstorm: You left me.
Final Warrior: I released you.
Quietstorm: And now you show yourself.
Final Warrior: I give you your inheritance.
*Quietstorm walked back to the tree where Vox was.*
Final Warrior: Wait...
Quietstorm: What is it?
Final Warrior: I give you on bit of advice, advice I ignored... care for her. Never break your promises. Never make a promise you cannot keep. And love her, as I never did.
Quietstorm: I shall.
*With that, Quietstorm left the Final Warrior, who stood amongst the forest, alone once more. He looked upwards, to the sky.*
Final Warrior: Is this what was chosen for me? Love only to be lost, Life only to want Death? Mother, why?... Rhianna... what did I do?