Warning: Story is a work in progress, therefore incomplete
A tale about a group of companions known throughout the land as the 'Shield Alliance,' who must come to terms with their pasts and reunite again to put an end to the evil that is Baleon, once and for all.
“Here you are my dear,” said a baritone voice dripping with sweetness.
Glass clinked against chalice. The sound of liquid streaming from a bottle was met with the splash of its final destination.
“Careful Dwyn, don’t spill it!” There was giggling, and: “What’s the occasion?” This voice was melodious and fair and playfully suspicious.
A feminine hand was holding the chalice as the wine poured; a slender, soft hand gloved in oil-sheen darkness of skin that seemed to reflect the fiery light of a nearby candle.
“I wasn’t aware anything was out of the ordinary,” he said. Dwyn scanned the room with his sky-gray eyes.
The room was elegantly dressed: a halfwall landscape portrait of the Emerhine Falls hung between two brackets of perfectly pink chrysanthemums, the long table occupying the center of the room was arranged with petals and candles and lace, a golden settee used as a daycouch posed along the far wall, and the music box in the corner continued to chime away. Nothing out of place.
His eyes fixed upon the vision that was his lover. Her hair, a full moon white, dropped in razor-fine lines to her shoulders before rumbling into a puffy curling cloud, reminiscent to the falls in the halfwall painting. Her eyes, a soft yellow like canary plume, illumed the room better than any candle ever could. Dwyn noted, and had for several years of his life admired, the sharp angled cheek bones set high in her face. What deep rooted regality produced such a creature, he wondered. What drove the divines to make something so splendidly perfect?
“You pour me a glass but abstain from drinking yourself. Where’s yours?”
Gods he loved it when she flashed her smug grin! This woman could make him quake, ravage his soul and rip him out of Time, but still, Dwyn remained calm and poised and collected. He leaned his elbows against the table, said, “I’m drinking in the view. Nothing runs faster to my head than you, Ana.” He smiled wolfishly.