Vlad'War's Anvil by Rex Hazelton

Author:Rex Hazelton [Hazelton, Rex]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-12-31T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 20: Lamarik

The village of Lan'Fon was a far cry from the pristine elf-city of Mystlkynd that was firmly esconced in Forest Deep. Though both were located in a greenwood, one in the Nyeg and the other in the Ar, Lan'Fon's untamed appeal was besmeared by the grimy fallout that accompanied the dark magic Ab'Don habitually practiced. Instead of looking like an extension of the Lorn Forest's verdant glory, though this too was muted by the filth the Sorcerer's wicked pursuits threw into the air, Lan'Fon's appearance was more akin to the gray fungus that was the main staple of the Neflin diet. In fact, the mud-covered huts, plastered against the trunks of trees large enough to support the crude dwellings, could have been mistaken for fungus growing on an arbor's rough bark if viewed from afar.

This same grime made the Neflin's garments look old and worn, even when they were newly made. Intricate in design, hinting at the artistic sensibilities that the fallen race once had, the leather clothing was fashioned with serpentine-shaped strips that were expertly sewn together to emulate flowing water. This was true for pants, jerkins, and tunics alike. The woolen cloaks they wore bore expertly-crafted stitchings of leaves that spoke of the love the elves had for the forest they lived in. Unfortunately the red, orange, brown, yellow, and various shades of green dye that were used to give the leaves a seasonal aspect, were as muted as the leathers they wore. Elven knives and swords, that were fastidiously tended to with the whet stones each carried, were just as dull in appearance as the garments. Beams of sunlight, that reached the surface of the sharpened steel, made little difference.

Like their possessions, the Neflin soul was no less besmeared by the Sorcerer's foul influence. Once a noble race that exulted in the strength of the wilderness and the freedom living there brought with it, the Neflin were bowed beneath the weight that a warl ruled by darkness had heaped on them. In time the struggle to survive in a kingdom where wanton violence and treachery were rewarded took its toll on the Lorn Elves, to the point that they became nearly as violent and treacherous as the One they despised for subjecting them to his base ways.

Walking through Lan'Fon, Travyn passed Neflin who were busy at work either hollowing out the fallen trees' massive trunks or harvesting their branches. Guided by their affection for the greenwood, the Neflin rarely cut down trees, and none that were mature, but the boon tragedy had bequethed to them couldn't be allowed to go to waste, not in the warl of lack they lived in.

Fettered by Ab'Don's disfavor, the Neflin's existence was a struggle for survival. And they would have lost the never ending battle if it wasn't for the Sky Stones they mined in the Great Ral Mountains, though what they did to locate the extremely rare stones wasn't mining in the traditional sense. Divining would be a better description.

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