Not everything is Dark and Light

The Final Confrontation (part 1)

“How do you know of this place?” Nifeerein questioned Vuren as the pair stared down at the dilapidated Romero mansion.

“I used to use it as a rest point when sneaking into Abavuki. Place wasn’t as rundown as it is now but it’ll be useable for our purposes.” 

Vuren looked at the Romero mansion and shook his head. It was another place with memories of better times. A place he had spent many evenings in with Aaron and whoever else was tagging along with them. Now those happy memories were to be squandered by what came next.

“Let’s go. I need to set some stuff up before they get here.” Vuren said as he spurred on his stolen horse. He was still yet to name it and had no intension of doing so as once this quest was over he planned on getting as far from it as he could as even the sight of the horse brought back memories of what happened in Smitloft.

Nifeerein followed Vuren along closely still scanning the surroundings for any light elves. She found none and knew her paranoia was getting the better of her but she still tensed up at every disparate sound. She was not comfortable in surroundings she found herself in. She tried to strengthen up for Vuren’s sake as he had a plan and her being weak would not help him but his plan involved inviting light elves to them which filled Nifeerein with unease.

Vuren, either not noticing or pretending not to notice, continued on his conviction and resolve firm and true. He was fed up of Jult. Fed up of the light elves. Fed up of being on the run. Nifeerein’s rejection of his was the final nail in the coffin. He knew he what must be done. No one else would die because Vuren chose to run away. Now he would stand and fight.

As they reached the house Nifeerein could see even more clearly the broken state it was in. Calling it in disrepair would be an insult to its true nature. It was a hazard. At any moment a large gust of wind could knock it down. The rotten wood creaked as the gentle breezed rocked it. The windows filled with broken glass hummed as the soft wind blew through them creating shrieking chimes of terror. The paint work on the outer walls was peeling loose revealing the stonework underneath which was slowly being chipped away at with the erosion of the west most wall being visible. The gates that stood in front of the building presumable to hold off unwanted travellers were not obsolete with one half hanging on by a single hinge and the other already collapsed and lying in a broken mess on the floor. The outer wall also had multiple holes in it with the largest a mere few steps away from the dilapidated gate. The second storey was the worst as the roof had partially caved in and moss and greenery now sprouted forth as nature slowly retook what was rights its.

“Let’s go.” Vuren said with a measure of anger Nifeerein barely picked up on. He gently nudged on his horse through the broken gate and swung his leg round and jumped off as soon as he got within ten paces of the main doors. Nifeerein followed on but at a more relaxed pace uncertain if she wanted to be near Vuren while he was in this riled up state. She could see it in his eyes since the morning. It was a more wild and primal side of him. One that scared her.

Vuren pushed open the two large doors from the front entrance and walked in to inspect the front room. It was a typical rich person estate with the entrance being as unnecessarily lavish and decorative as Vuren expected it to be. The large chandelier in the centre had seen better days but still hung from the ceiling with a few candles still sitting there ready for use. The floor of marble had a large c***k in the centre the obscured the original design. Vuren squinted at it and tried to make it out but quickly came to the realisation it was of nothing in particular and was just a basic pleasing pattern. The large pillars that lay at the side of the room were still standing firm and taken by themselves one would think nothing had happened to the place but when attached to the surrounding structure that painted a picture of destruction in their vivid contrast. The walls paint was flaking and the artwork on them was now unrecognisable. Vuren chuckled at the distorted nature of them thinking about how much money someone would have paid for them before abandoning them. he thought about how that money could have went to a starving farmer or an orphanage or even to him and his colleagues at the schools but instead the rich owner of the place decided it essential to have masterful art decorate every wall before upping and leaving soon after.

“Nifeerein.” Vuren called outside to her as she attempted to tie up Agro. “Leave her. She knows the place and will stay put. Just follow me. I’ll need your help for a few of these traps.”

Traps, Nifeerein thought to herself before snapping forward and rushing inside. She looked all around with wonder as the painting and murals reminded her of her home in Veldin. She barley had time to apricate them all before Vuren commanded her up the stairs.

“Nifeerein. We don’t have a lot of time and I need an extra pair of hands.” He stated from atop the marble staircase that stood tall in the centre of the room. Each stair was constructed from a different colour of marble creating a rainbow-like cascade from top to bottom. Vuren again scoffed at the wastefulness of it all while Nifeerein looked at it in wonder commenting on the beauty of it in her own head.

Nifeerein followed Vuren up the stairs feeling like a child as she did so. The myriad of colours washed over her and she was reminded of her younger years when she watched a master painter paint a mural of her on the entrance tunnel to her castle. It was tradition for dark elves that when a new king or queen was crowned their portrait was added to the others along the inside of the entrance tunnel. It was a long line of dark elf history masterfully worked onto the everlasting stonework of her home. The collection of colours he brought out was striking and each flick of his brush mesmerised Nifeerein. He was another man that commented on her beauty but it felt insincere from him and he was paid to tell her. Whatever her opinions on her beauty it was no word of a lie to say he crafted a magnificent portrait of her. The smoothness of her features was impeccable and the way he had seamlessly blended in her image with the others was faultless. The colours he had used though were entrancing to Nifeerein as she had never before seen such vibrancy and likely never would again until her eldest child took the throne from her and their image was painted across the wall like her own.

Vuren, never having and never likely to have the same experience, looked at Nifeerein with confusion before turning and walking away into one of the closest rooms. Nifeerein followed on and entered to see it was a broken-down bedroom with the bed in the centre having collapsed and the roof covered with black smears of damp.

“Right, how much do you know about making bombs?” Vuren asked Nifeerein as she frozen almost instantly. Looking into Vuren’s eyes for any sign of sarcasm she saw none and gulped at the prospect.

“Nothing.” She awkwardly answered while she shook at little at the dread for what was to come next.

“Well, you’re about to.”