[SFI]

Waes :> Minus her scars :|

[SFI]

”What are you saying!?” His voice echoed in the small room. His mate was struggling to breath, his hand almost crushing her throat in anger. “Are you saying… are you saying that this entire mess is your fault?”
“Death…” She was whimpering, had in fact been crying before he had even thrown her against the solid stone walls of his fortress. “Please… I…”
“It’s your fault… that he is like that?” The firstborn Nephilim snarled, hand twitching around her neck.
“Creator’s grace!” Someone entered the room, having heard the commotion. “Death, calm down! You’re killing her!” Sandy brown hands closed around the one hand holding the fae aloft. “What are you doing?”
“It’s her… her people. They did this.” The Nephilim snarled, glaring at the angel that was interfering. “They have been doing this for ages! All those deaths… It was them…”
Waes’soloth was sobbing. “Please, I…”
“Let her go.” The angel in question had been Azrael. “It’s quite obvious they neither knew the result, nor that she had anything to do with this! Killing her will not undo this.”
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
“Waes?” Kel’noz asked softly. Hile’wen had left to try and figure out how to break the recent changes to the other factions, while he had stayed behind just a while longer before heading out to return to his mother. “You zoned out there.”
“Just remembering some things.” The once-Beldrobbaen sighed. “About how they found out.”
“That bad?” He moved closer, hesitantly reaching for her hand.
“Yes.” She turned to him. “The realization of what the Nether-arts do did not exactly come an opportune moment. They nearly killed me…”
“Did they…” He gestured hesitantly to her scars.
“Oh no.” She lifted her free hand. “Nono, he was stopped before he came to actual violence. But I could see in his eyes that he would have killed me if not stopped. And I can’t blame him for it…”
“Considering he tried to kill you for the actions of others, I certainly can.” The mercenary-son stated sharply. “Not to mention you have always hated the Nether-arts, to the point of threatening your own school if Orthorrbae did not stop it.”
“Trust me, there were mitigating circumstances I can’t tell you right now. Give me until their ambassadors arrive and I can.” She smiled lightly at him, taking his hands with both of hers. “I will tell you everything, my wolf… well, within reason.”
“But that one is among them?” He almost demanded, relaxing a little when she nodded. “Alright then, I’ll let it slide. For now.” He smiled weakly, leaning his forehead against hers. “Sharess, how did things get weird so fast?”
“If you think this weird, you might want to go on vacation while the rest goes down.” She closed her eyes in content. “I guess you’ll be returning to Quain’tana now?”
“I’ll have to. We’re kinda in the middle of war against the Sharen, as you might have missed.” He chuckled weakly.
“Well, excuse me for falling into a different world.” Waes’soloth flatly countered, moving back a little. “Try not to get yourself killed by Quain.”
“I’ll try my best.” He snorted, letting go of her.

[SFI]

“Are you certain of that?” Quain’tana was quite frankly not believing her son. Considering what he told her, few would blame her for that.
“I can assure you I can tell Waes from an impostor easily still.” Kel’noz had decided that bluntness was the smartest way of informing his mother of what had happened in the Beldrobbaen-fortress.
“I’m just saying that it is quite convenient that apparently there is a new enemy we need to pay attention right now to just as the Sharen are on their last legs.” The Mercenary Queen stated dryly. “Forgive me for doubting the sincerity of ‘her’ statements.”
He frowned a bit, but had to acquiesce the point. “But if the ambassadors come as she claims, you’ll listen to them?”
“Until I know whether they are as a much a threat as she seems to think, I’d be an idiot to ignore them.” The red-armoured female pointed out. “Any idea when they come?”
“Soon, I have been informed. Something about having to ensure a more stable portal.” Kel’noz shrugged lightly.
“What the nether are they doing over there?”
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
“Hello Quain’tana.” She heard a raspy voice greet her upon arrival. “I take it Kel’noz talked to you already?”
“Indeed.” The Sarghress watched the former Beldrobbaen with narrowed eyes. “What are you doing?”
“Making a proper gateway.” Waes’soloth briefly looked away from where she was working on the room-wall. “You would not believe how painful traveling through portals is otherwise.”
“I do remember your screams.” The Mercenary Queen answered softly. “I can imagine.”
The other female flinched lightly at the reminder. “I was unconscious for days after that one. Apparently, they spend hours fixing all the damage to my body from what trip.”
The taller female moved closer, studying the other.
“Checking to see if I am really me?” The dark-clothed female asked with amusement.
“No.” Quain shook her head lightly. “I trust Kel’noz. If he says you are you with the conviction he did, I am going to trust his statement.”
“huh. Did not expect that.” Waes mused lightly. “Must have been very disappointing when you found I and he slept together… quite often, I might add.”
“He could have picked worse.” The Sarghress moved over to the table, leaning against it. “So you really think those people will come here in force over nether summoning?”
“If diplomacy fails, yes.” It was a blunt answer. “Quain, every demon that comes through a nether-gate was a living being on their side. And not every soul that gets ripped out of their given body makes it through a gate. Even a banishing-gate like the Kyorl use costs them lives. The moment they found out what caused it, many lesser factions started petitioning the main political players to do something about it.”
“With ‘it’ being us, in this case.” Quain’tana rolled her eyes. “Lovely timing, I must say.”
“Excuse me for taking a while to learn how to portal.” Waes’soloth graced her with a small smile. “Besides, I am surprised it is taking over twenty years for you to deal with the Sharen. From what Hile’wen told me, you should have been able to steamroll over them easily.”
“A massive rampage would have done that, yes. But it would have cost me people I could have spared with just taking a bit longer.” The Sarghress looked at the circle being elevated from the wall. “When do you think this’ll be finished?”
“I suspect sometime tomorrow, depending on how I exhausted I am making the entire circle.” Waes pulled a sketch from a pocket in her clothes. “The activation will take a lot as well. Much like operating a golem.”
Someone knocked on the door.
“More visitors, Waes’soloth.” Hile’wen stated, stepping aside lightly. “Ambassadors of the clans.”

[SFI]

“So what do you think of this… development?” Ash’waren had joined Quain’tana in the Sarghress-fortress. “Waes’soloth ‘back’ and apparently ambassadors of a different world coming here over Nether-summoning of all things.”
“It’s certainly not anything I’d like, but to ignore people that can travel between ‘worlds’ with their bodies intact certainly should not be dismissed just like that.” The Sarghress muttered, leaning against the wall of her room. “If that is truly what happened there.”
“I heard you send Kel’noz.”
“No doubt the Sharen send someone as well.” The Mercenary Queen gestured to the general direction of the Sharen and Beldrobbaen-strongholds. “They’d be fools to not have someone play welcoming-committee.”
“I can’t help but wonder how said ambassadors want to get this agreement of theirs of the ground.” The Sullisin’rune mused. “We can’t even agree on who should rule this cavern. How do they intend to make sure we agree to ‘end’ Nether-summoning?”
“I suppose they think their threat of war enough.” Quain’tana looked up when someone knocked on the door. “Yes?”
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
“This looks… beyond weird.” Kel’noz looked up at the active portal in front of him. It looked like black water, reflecting blue light that came from nowhere. “And one can go through this just like that?”
“Want to try it, my wolf?” Waes’soloth is sitting on a chair beside him, eating some of the food she had ordered specifically for after the activation of the gate. “Go right ahead.”
“Errrrr…” He looked at her uncertainly. “I am not sure I’d like that.”
“This one doesn’t hurt.” She rose from her seat, moving over to stand beside him and the Sharen-delegate, Zala’ess’ Overseer. Apparently the youngest daughter of Diva’ratrika had declared herself Empress in her mother’s stead. “I found it feels almost like moving through some cold water.”
“I’ll pass for now.” The Sarghress looked at the portal. “So when will they be arriving?”
“As soon as they see the portal is active, I suspect.” The Beldrobbaen gestured to the massive circle. “Give them a second.”
“And how many will be coming?” The Sharen spoke up, watching the two older Laths with her arms crossed. Kel’noz had informed her that it was one of Zala’ess’ youngest daughters.
“Only a couple.” Waes’soloth shrugged lightly. “For now it will really only be ambassadors, I have been told.”
They waited in silence after that, though Kel’noz could not stop himself from flinching when suddenly the blue light seemed to rise from the rest of the portal.
“Ah, there they come now.” A body formed in the light, taking on solid form just before the person landed on the floor. It was a female, clad in bronze-coloured armour with red decorations and white hair cascading down to the small of her back. If not for their lack of an aura and solid light-blue eyes, one might well have mistaken her for a surface-born Sarghress. “Grace, be welcome in my home.” Waes’soloth greeted the woman warmly. “Who else will come?”
“Gabriel and Sablo.” The one called Grace smiled warmly. “My, it’s dark in here.”
“Beldrobbaen.” Beside them, another person appeared from the portal, another female wearing green and silver armour. “Ah, Gabriel.” Within moments, a male appeared as well, wearing no armour, merely blue robes and having hair that would not make him amiss among the Beldrobbaen. “Sablo.”
“Hello, Waes.” He smiled lightly. “Ah, and these are?”
“My name is Kel’noz Val’Sarghress.” The Sarghress Headmaster bowed lightly.
“And I am Chrys’tel Val’Sharen, I am the Imperial Overseer of the Val’Sharess.” The Sharen bowed as well, making sure she did not even go a bit lower than the Sarghress.
“Well met. I am Grace of the Nephilim and these are my sister Gabriel and my cousin Sablo.” The bronze-armoured female inclined her head. Kel’noz couldn’t help but notice that they were all rivalling his mother in size. “With your permission, we would like some time to get acquainted with your people and customs, as we sadly had only one account of that before coming here.”
“Are you insinuating I am biased?” Waes’soloth demanded with something Kel’noz had learned to determine as a suppressed chuckle.
“One person always gives a biased account.” The blue-clad male smirked gently.
“Of course. I assume you will be accommodated by the Val’Beldrobbaen?” The Imperial Overseer asked softly.
“They currently are the only ones with a portal, so yes, we will be staying here for the foreseeable time.” Gabriel answered almost demurely. “Perhaps you would like to stay and tell us of your people, Overseer?”

[SFI]

“Waes?” Ke’noz watched as the Imperial Overseer talked to the three ambassadors, now seated on the luxurious couch of the Ill’haress’ quarters.
“Yes?” She was still standing at the portal, looking at the swirling mass of darkness and light. Now she turned to look at him. “Shouldn’t you be paying attention to what the Sharen tells them, my wolf?”
“This Sharen is moderately trustworthy regarding being ‘objective’. I believe you did tell me about her questions regarding the former Val’Sharess.” He joined her, looking from the ambassadors to her. “You promised me something, my dear.”
“Sharess, they are here just a few moments.” She chuckled lightly, regarding their guests briefly before turning to him. “Very well, I did promise you information…” She sighed softly. “Though some people are late.”
“Last words with their father.” Grace had overheard her statement, leaning back a bit to talk behind her family’s back. “I was assured it wouldn’t be long.”
“More guests?” Chrys’tel Vel’Sharen asked with a small frown. “I thought it would only be you three?”
“Not guests, Overseer.” Waes’soloth stated sharply. “Val of Beldrobbaen.” She was answered with narrowed eyes. “I am Val’Beldrobbaen still, Sharen, even if I have renounced any claim to the title of Ill’haress. My children are likewise.” The former Ill’haress towered beside the portal, even as the light moved from the darkness once more.
Two bodies formed in the light; young girls, twins identical even to the feel of their aura. They are followed almost immediately by a young man, bound to a wheelchair. All three looked like surface-born Beldrobbaen, auras stunted and misshapen, but with eyes that were pools of silver. The man was cloaked in black, almost hiding in what was clearly heavy and expensive fabric.
“My children.” Waes’soloth rested one hand on her crippled son’s shoulder, the other on one of the two girls. “Cousins to our three ambassadors over there.”
“Indeed.” Grace rose from her seat, walking over to the two young girls. “Children of my dearest uncle.” She smiled warmly at them, a smile that was returned in kind. “I am surprised he did not send guards.”
Her sister joined her, standing beside the wheelchair of the young man.
“Not to deny your claim, my love…” Kel’noz only hesitantly joined them, feeling the gaze of Waes’soloth’s eldest on him. “But… how? Does time move faster?” The young male looked far too old to have been born in the last twenty years.
“We age faster.” The male’s voice was as raw as that of his mother, suppressed pain shining through. “Maturity at 18 years.” Mirrored eyes looked at the Imperial Overseer.
“My son, Eurynome, was born 17 years ago, almost to the day.” Waes’soloth stated, briefly letting go of him. “And my daughters, Nergal and Deumos, who are currently ten.” She leaned closer to the Sarghress, whispering only for his ears. “He was the reason.”
Returning to her full stature, she returned her hand to the backrest of the wheelchair. “I will ensure their familiarity with the city and its’ peoples for the next week, and after that week, we will arrange a gathering.”
“I will see to it.” Chrys’tel bowed lightly. “I will ensure you will receive free travel through Chel’el’sussoloth and any assistance necessary.”
“As will I.” Kel’noz answered.
“We are grateful for your assistance.” Grace returned the gesture, giving a low bow as well. “May we visit you as well?”
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
The following week, Waes’soloth did indeed travel to all Val-clans of Chel’el’sussoloth with the three ambassadors, even to the Vloz’ress, though her children instead stayed in the Beldrobbaen-fortress for that particular visit.
Halfway through said week, word spread from the Beldrobbaen-fortress that the old Val-clan was opening public kitchens… where the food would be for free. According to the rumours, the people behind the ambassadors produced such excessive amounts of agricultural produce that the rich clan could afford immense amounts of food for proverbial ‘random rocks’. Opinions on that were mixed; the commoners were ecstatic that they could eat their fill thrice over out of a Val’s pockets… the Val-clans looked on the act with suspicion. Were the Beldrobbaen – and the foreigners – trying to buy the goodwill of the people through their stomachs!?
Another blow to pride of the other nobles was Quain’tana’s support of the move, offering even her own soldiers to guard and escort the mobile kitchens to secure this source of food for the people. At first these stayed near the Beldrobbaen-district, but later even passed out into the city.
“So…” Kel’noz looked at the woman who had held his heart for a long time. “How much exactly did this cost?” They had driven out in one of the Beldrobbaen-carriages to visit several of the public kitchens. In the crowd waiting for their share were even several soldiers.
“Did you not hear the rumours?” Waes’soloth stopped looking at the crowd to turn to him. “Random rocks.”
“From what I saw, they did not strike me as people for charity to such a scale.” He gestured outside where people upon emptying their bowls got immediately back into line for a next portion and were not stopped by anyone. It seemed as if the kitchen had bottomless reserves.
“Of course not. But the people that answer to them have vast stores, these amounts barely make a dent to them.” The black-haired female absent-mindedly traced one of her scars. “And certain types of rocks around here, which carry no weight for us, carry great weight for them. In short, we are trading two things that are of high worth and yet worthless.” The Beldrobbaen chuckled softly. “In turn, we gain some really good PR.”

[ThatGuyThisGuy]

I don't get it, are the people from the Dark Souls world in this fic Elves? I ask this since no one seems to really remark that much about their appearance that would indicate them as non-elves.

[SFI]

I don't get it, are the people from the Dark Souls world in this fic Elves? I ask this since no one seems to really remark that much about their appearance that would indicate them as non-elves.

1. It has been stated this is DARKSIDERS
2. It has been commented upon.

[SFI]

“I do not see why we should concern ourselves with this.” Zarv’swati all but opened the talks between Chel and their visitors from beyond the nethergates with clear distaste about the matter. Everyone had answered the summons of Waes’soloth and her guests and they had taken seats in the old council-chamber. Several seats had been risen from the stone in the upper circle, affording the ambassadors and Waes’soloth the center of one of the arches and spreading the nine Val-clans over the rest.
“Because it is either war or talks, you idiot.” Quain’tana had been the one to give her seat to the ambassadors and was now sitting with Kel’noz beside Nega’fanea. “And if they can make portals between worlds, I’d rather not find out what they can do in war.” Right now, she felt regret at not lobbing off the Sharen’s head when she had the chance. Zala’ess at least was still reasonable, but being forced to bend the knee under the banner of her youngest sister had soured Zarv’swati’s already poor mind.
“Quain’tana speaks truly, noble Vel of Sharen.” Grace spoke up, her light-blue eyes regarding the drow with no visible emotion. “Nether-summoning is causing too much damage in our domains for us to give you any other recourse but to end it one way or another.”
“Perhaps it would help and explain what kind of?” Shimi’lande leaned forward lightly. “And why are clans summoned while not using Nether-summoning? Ought this not be a matter discussed purely with the Vel’Sharen and Vel’Vlozress?” She threw a glance at her near opposite, Kharla’ggen looking with childlike curiosity at the strangers.
“Because it is not only Summoning-gates that are affecting them, Shimi’lande.” Waes’soloth stated in her rough voice, gesturing at the gathered clans. “The gates meant to empty sealing-stones are equally destructive. And all clans have sealers by now, as such, all clans are involved in the problem.”
“But to declare war over it?” Rel’lumia demanded. “Considering the amounts the Beldrobbaen can buy, their numbers must be massive. And how many demons do we get? A couple thousand? That would hardly make a dent!”
“But gates hardly ever hit our centres of power, my Lady.” Gabriel softly answered her. “They hit outposts and other people, places that are poorly warded. Villages can get exterminated and small cities decimated even for a mere ‘sealing-gate’ as you call it.”
“But the biggest problem lies in the effect of the gates themselves.” Sablo rose to his feet. “Rulers of Chel’el’sussoloth, allow me to explain what happens when a gate is opened. For this, I will use an example that one of your own can confirm.” He gestured to Waes’soloth, who ever so slightly flinched at the reminder. “It was a gate opened roughly a decade ago. It reached to a city of one of the allies of the White City, the people of our mothers. It was open for a mere few minutes…”
“Then it cannot have done much.” Sarv’swati dryly stated. “Unless actively siphoned by the summoner, a gate of a few minutes gets but a few hundred demons.”
“Then this one was siphoned, Sarv’swati.” Gabriel’s voice was deadly cold when she spoke. “Because off the nine-thousand, over three-thousand were dead by the end of the gate.” The air around her was trembling. “And let me ask you this, oh Vel of Sharen, do you think a gate does not discriminate about what passes through?”
“To answer her question, it does, Sarv’swati.” Waes’soloth rested one hand on the ambassador’s arm. “A very simply fact of life… After all, who is drained dry first, Sharen? One of our stature, with centuries of mana build up and reserves that allow us to destroy armies? Or a child, young and untrained, barely capable of holding a light?”
“In a city of nine-thousand, my Lady, every child below the age of six was dead save one. Below the age of ten, nearly half were dead.” Sablo stated softly. “Every time a gate opens, it is the young that die first. The first few seconds, all babies die. The first and second minute, all toddlers perish. And so it continues up ages. The statement of the Val’Nal’sarkoth carries truth. The millions that died do not affect us directly in our numbers, but it is not us that suffer; it are satellite people, who do not have our numbers. And even if they did, the fact that the loss is a generation would still make it unacceptable. Three thousand children died in that city. Ten adults of poor health did not survive the strain of a nether-gate pulling on their souls. Fifty mothers could not deal with the grief of losing their children and thirty lost the children they were carrying in a miss-carriage.” His eyes were narrowed. “That was one gate, and merely its’ deaths, Rulers of Chel’el’sussoloth. Multiply this by every gate you open and tell me; are we to ignore the millions of dead children littering our worlds? Are we to ignore those that somehow survive and who will be marked by it?” Again he gestured to Waes’soloth. “The scars on her soul come not from her travel to our world. They come from a gate one of you opened over a decade ago.”
“We came for talks, people of Chel’el’sussoloth, but there are plenty of people, of parents, who would not mourn if it came to war.” Grace had sunk back into her seat. “Because regardless of what you expect us to do, they will not ignore their dead children… and will take any excuse to petition their respective factions for extermination of the art that cost them so much. And the factions will answer that call, they will have no choice but to.”

[SFI]

“How… how bad is it exactly?” Shimi’lande asked softly.
“As in how many died?” Grace counter-asked. “At this point, at least a dozen million that we are certain of. After all, before Waes’soloth revealed the existence of Nether-arts, we believed it some kind of epidemic or ill luck – poisoned wells or the like.”
She steepled her fingers together. “Ignoring those that were killed after the gates for being alive but too damaged to be sustained.”
Kel’noz couldn’t help but notice that Waes’soloth turned away at that statement. “Survivors also suffer poor effects?” He knew that Waes’ scars in her aura came from the incident – or so they claimed.
“Yes.” The Beldrobbaen answered sharply. “I was not alone in the incident. My son was there as well. He is the only child under six that survived, by virtue of being more powerful than most others his age.” Sitting up straight, she looked to her back, where the Beldrobbaen-lounge was. “Eurynome!”
In answer, black smoke appeared behind their seats and the crippled son of Waes’soloth appeared from them like his mother from her shadows. Still hidden in his black cloak, they could only see the lower half of his face when his mother leaned over to softly talk to him.
“Gabriel, help me for a second.” The former Beldrobbaen-Ill’haress called over, rising from her seat.
Quain’tana’s son was struck how much Eurynome looked like a surface-born version of his youngest when the half-breed used his left arm to pull his cloak down, revealing for the first time his full head. His black hair was short cut, swept to the left and covering the eye there. He could only now see scars on the boy’s cheeks, going down from his silver eyes. Most worryingly, without the cloak one shoulder looked almost caved-in. Gabriel joined the two fae, hiding what was happening.
When both females stepped back, Kel’noz almost recoiled. Most of the male’s body was still hidden behind the table, but what he could see was not pretty. Almost perfectly down the middle was a transition from muscle to bones. The left side was well-muscled, looking like he could lift furniture with that arm alone. The right side was atrophied, showing the ribs under tight skin.
Then he used his muscled arm to push himself to near-standing, and Kel’noz actually recoiled. The son of his former mate was precariously balancing on his one arm, the rest of his body hanging limply and uselessly down. Aside from the trembling arm and part of his chest, the rest of his body was mere bones and skin, almost allowing one to see every single bone of his skeleton.
With a grunt, he fell back into his chair, sweat pearling on his forehead.
On the other side of the arch where the Sarghress had moved, Asira’malika could only mouth the words of ‘his aura’. Because the singularly worst sight was the fact that only on the muscled parts of his body, Waes’soloth’s son had an aura. The atrophied parts had no aura at all, being lifeless in all senses of the word.
Gabriel and his mother helped him to dress once more in silence.
“My cousin was spared as his magics are enough to keep him self-sufficient for the most part, even with three-quarters of his body being dead.” Grace broke the silence. “Many other survivors, particularly those of magic-less or agricultural communities do not receive such luxury.”
“And that is merely the damage the nether-arts do on the other side.” Sablo pointed out. “They cause plenty here, from what we see and hear.” He gestured to the Sharen and Vloz’ress. “It is in everyone’s best interest if these practices cease as soon and thoroughly as possible.”
“What makes you think that we do not need at least the ‘sealing’-part of these arts to counter those that would not cease their use?” Salan’dara stated softly, leaning forward lightly to look at the Vloz’ress with distaste. “May I remind the gathering of the Nidra’chaal war half a century ago? It devastated this city, as no doubt Waes’soloth would have told you.”
“If the other people agree to cease the arts, we have ways to ensure they are un-useable.” Sablo answered. “Alternatively, they can die.” It was stated with cold matter-of-factness. “Depending on whether people want them to live or not.”
Sarv’swati shot up from her seat. “You come here, and think you can just threaten us with death as you please!?” She sounded furious, her nether-stained eyes glowing with her anger.
“Is this any different than how you threat your enemies, Lady Sarv’swati? Bend the knee, or face us on the battlefield.” Grace countered calmly, inclining her head to the Sullisin’rune beside her, having been told a summary of Chelian history. “And right now, the practice of nether-summoning makes us enemies. So bend the knee – cease all forms of this art – or find out how much you can stand against armies from beyond the gates.”
“Then bring your armies…”
“Sarv’swati!” Waes’soloth raised her voice, turning away from the soft conversation she had been holding with her son. “Have you lost your mind? Completely aside from individual differences in skill between their and our warriors, the full armies outnumber all our people by factors of thousands! There can be no victory when even our children and slaves would have to kill thousands just to end up even.”
Quain’tana’s eyes narrowed at that. “Not that I want to endorse another war with one still being in-progress, but would they truly invest their all? The casualties they will take in this war could outnumber the people they want to avenge.”
“The dead are only one result of the nether-summoning.” Gabriel returned to her seat, absentmindedly fixing her gauntlet. “But it is the most well-known. There are others and combined they do make a full investment of their forces worthwhile.”
“Can you please just get upfront here?” Rel’lumia demanded. “First it’s only death, then it’s also crippling and now there’s even more? Just tell us what Nether-summoning does in your world and stop pulling things out of left field!”

[SFI]

“Are you sure you wish to know?” Grace leaned forward lightly. “Waes’soloth took it poorly.”
“Very poorly.” Waes’soloth agreed softly, Eurynome sitting beside her once again shrouded in his cloak.
“Just tell us.” Zala’ess stated, resting one hand on her sister’s shoulder. “We can take a hit, metaphorically speaking.”
“As you wish, Empress.” Grace looked at Waes’soloth. “If you could do the honors?”
“Why me?” The Beldrobbaen’s eyes narrowed.
“Because you’re the only one with the necessary reserves.” The ambassador gestured down to the floor with one hand. “Besides, how am I supposed to explain if I am holding the Sight open?”
The drow almost snarled at that, but did rise from her seat and walked down to the center between the three arches. The lower circle was empty, which was highly convenient right now.
Kel’noz leaned forward as much as he could, watching the dark-clad woman as she knelt on the stone floor. He promptly recoiled when glowing sigils poured out from her, forming a circle around the three arches. Someone yelped, but he found that his eyes were glued to the female below. She had changed when the sigils appeared; glowing, translucent feathers framed her head and he was pretty certain there were chains connecting her wrists and neck. Most concerningly; she looked old and drained…
Quain’tana’s son rose from his chair, intending to put a stop to whatever his former love was doing, only to fall back into it when said whatever succeeded. They were no longer in the Council-dome and he could swear they were not even in Chel’el’sussoloth anymore. The three arches stood on a platform which was overlooking a bottom-less pit from which glowing energy poured upward, swirling in the air around them. A latticework of massive rock pillars was visible in the distance, smaller rocks with glowing symbols floating freely in the air.
“This, Ill’haresses, is the Well of Souls.” Grace’s voice echoed around them. “Under the protection of my mother, this is the fond of al life. Here go souls upon their demise, to be reborn into a new life at the grace of my Grandmother. For eons, it has only ever increased. For every century a person lives, they give enough energy to create a wholly new soul. For eons, this has been enough to compensate for what souls get lost one way or another. Then the Nether-arts rose to prominence and as your ancestors fled their demise underground, the Well stagnated and new life was weaker than ever before. It recovered, only to suffer from an actual decrease in matter when these ‘arts’ returned again. You are killing our people, and keeping us from replenishing our numbers because aside from a precious few, souls torn from their bodies by the Nether-arts do not survive until the Well.”
Even as Waes’soloth collapsed, the image fading when she could no longer keep it active, Grace stood proudly on her arch. Most importantly, she looked furious. The fae were silent, most would take a long while to digest this new information.
“Consider this wisely.” Gabriel rose from her seat to join her sister. “Both your past as well as your future actions.”
“We will leave you to that, then.” Grace rather gracefully jumped down from their place on the arch, almost gliding down to Waes’soloth’s side. “We are, of course, available for any questions might have, but for now, we will take our leave so you may discuss it as you see fit.”
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
“This is not why I have him inside of me, Grace.” Waes’soloth was reclining on her couch. “I am drained dry.”
“Would they have believed it without seeing it?” The ambassador was reclining on a chair, her feet dangling over the armrest. “I remember how well you took that particular revelation, after all.”
“An illusion of that size would tax even your mother.” The fae leaned back her head. “I still say this will have been too much at once. It’s been a mere week since they even learned that there are people beyond the gates, and you immediately throw the Well at them?”
“Should I have thrown the entire history of my people at them?” The bronze-clad female snorted, looking out of the window.
“Not sure that is such a good idea if we’re trying to do this peacefully.” Sablo returned into the room with a glass of wine in his hand. “That would have made them immediately dismiss this entire thing outright.”
“that’s why we were send instead of our fathers.” Gabriel was sitting on the windowsill, looking down from the Beldrobbaen-fortress. Far below them, one of the mobile-kitchens was returning into the area set aside for them. “Even all of Waes’ arguing would not have kept them from killing those ‘tainted’.” She shuddered at the memory. “Creator, why would someone do that to their souls?”
“Theoretically, it does offer protection.” The dark-skinned female felt obliged to point out. “Besides, most people got tainted young under Snadhya’rune’s orders in Orthorbbae.”
“Even worse. I’m pretty certain most ofthem are beyond saving at this point, short of getting Mom or someone similar to attend them.” Grace rubbed her forehead. “You told us of the whole principle of tainting, but you forgot to mention how bad it was.”
“Because I didn’t see it myself.” Waes’soloth rose from her seat. “Even the most trained mana-sight cannot distinguish as acutely as your soul-sight by any degree; I told you this. It’s only now that I can see how sickening it looks.”
“So how hard would it be to get a tainted to test our theory?” Eurynome asked his mother as his twin-sisters were playing in the room beside the one they were currently in.
“I think I’d have to talk to Quain’tana or Zala’ess about that one.” The older Beldrobbaen sighed lightly. “Perhaps a visit to my old lover is appropriate.”

[SFI]

“This is a first.” He did not look up from the book he was reading. “Twenty years ago you would not have wanted anyone to find you dead in my rooms.”
“Twenty years ago I was the Ill’haress of one of the Great Val Clans.” Waes’soloth formed from shadows in the corner of the room, the darkness peeling away from her. “Now I am a mere woman… and I have my doubts about whether I even still fully am a part of the Beldrobbaen.” She walked over to him, gently leaning over him to see what he was reading.
“As if they’d ignore the famed Waes’soloth.” He closed the book, looking up at her. “What brings you here? Anymore revelations?”
“Do you want more?” She actually chuckled lightly, sitting on the desk. “But no, I did not come for more revelations.”
“Then what brings you here?” He gently rested his hand on her leg, feeling a familiar calm descend on him.
“We were lovers once.” The black-haired female smirked lightly. “I can’t help but wonder what we are now.”
“I suppose that is something worth figuring out.” He rose from his seat, offering his hand to her. “Assuming the father of your youngest will not try to skin me alive for it. Many species do not like sharing.”
“His does. Even if his siblings do not, for the most part.” She rolled her eyes. “You act as if I would endanger your life, my wolf.”
“The good century we slept together was very dangerous though.” He pointed out, leading them both to the sitting-area of his rooms. “It could certainly have cost me my life if people would have found out, particularly my mother, if I may remind you of her existence.”
Waes’soloth laughed softly at that. “Considering you survived the reveal with all your limbs, she can’t have minded that much.”
“It helped that you were gone already, I imagine.” They sat down together and he couldn’t resist the smirk at how out of place she looked in his spartan rooms, no matter how much she claimed to no longer be certain she was a Beldrobbaen. “Plus, it kept the Beldrobbaen out of the war.”
“Yes, that was mentioned.” She leaned back. “Well, you know what I was up to in the matter of loving, what about you? I recall you telling me that quite a few females were vying for your attention.”
“That was before they learned my tastes aimed at Ill’haresses.” He trailed one hand over her arm. “Though yes, I had a few over the years. No children I am aware of though, in that you got me beat.” He tilted his head lightly, eyes narrowing. “What in tarnation is that?” He hooked his fingers in her collar, pulling it down. “Why are there teeth-marks in your neck!?”
She pulled it up calmly, rearranging it so the bitemark was once again hidden. “Will you actually let me explain, or jump to conclusions?”
“First he nearly kills you, and then he bites you?” The Sarghress snarled. “What would I find if we slept together? Festering wounds!?”
“He nearly killed me because he learned that millions are being killed by my people seconds after our second child got crippled.” She countered calmly, silver eyes narrowing herself. The scars on her face rippled with the movement. “And he felt enough remorse over it that I forgave him.”
“Then why does he chew on your neck?” He demanded.
“Because he is a Nephilim.” She sighed. “The other mates also have these.” She rested one hand on the wound.
“And that is supposed to make it better?” He took a deep breath. “Regardless of whether there is something between us still, Waes’soloth… what have you gotten yourself into?”
“A relationship.” Waes’soloth flatly muttered. “Doubting my judgement?”
“As a Beldrobbaen-Ill’haress sleeping with a Sarghress-mercenary, you do not have a track-record.” Kel’noz rolled his eyes, rubbing his face. “Are you certain that he is good?”
“As good as I could get them.” She assured him. “What, do you want to meet him to check him out? I was not aware your fantasy of double-teaming me still had merit.”
“You’re certainly enough trouble that you need two men.” He leaned his head back. “And to think you complained about me.”
“He bites me on occasion… and I refuse to go into what you used to do to me.” She got comfortable. “Far worse things than biting, that is for certain.”
“You have gained a very interesting point of view.” Quain’tana’s son couldn’t resist, pulling her close. “You didn’t mind all that much back in the day.”
“Now that, we can have a discussion on.” She closed the rest of the distance, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. “I would suggest behaving, my wolf. He might not sharing, but I cannot assure you that it’d be the same if you try to get me alone.”
“Interesting…” He smirked, earning himself a slap from the female. “Hey, we covered that already years ago.”
“Why did I let you into my bed again?” The black-haired female demanded with mock seriousness.
He was kept from answering by someone knocking on his door. "Quain'tana wants your presence in the throneroom."

[SFI]

“You summoned?” Kel’noz joined his mother, blinking in surprise that several more people were waiting for him. “I can come back later?”
“No, now is just right.” Ash’waren waved him off. “This is a private meeting, as it were.”
“With the Sharen?” The Sarghress-Headmaster moved closer, throwing a brief glance at the self-declared Val’Sharess who was also present.
“Yes.” Zala’ess answered him sharply. “Apparently Quain’tana thinks you could help with our course of action.”
“Considering my belief that Waes’soloth is Waes’soloth hinges on his opinion…” The Mercenary Queen leaned forward lightly. “I assume you are still adamant about that.”
“Yes, she is Waes’soloth, I am certain of this.” He took a chair, sitting down beside his mother.
“And you think she is being honest?” The Ill’hardro Ill’haress had returned to Chel’el’sussoloth for this matter.
“You doubt their claims?” Kel’noz asked softly.
“Well, it all does seem to be a bit… ‘over the top’?” The speaker had to look for the right words. “Millions dead, just because of nether-summoning? Why would they send armies over that? If they are so plentiful, why does it matter?”
“I assume you are dismissing the whole story for the ‘Well of Souls’ completely out of hand?” Quain’tana looked at said speaker behind Zala’ess. “You are playing with fire, Sarv’swati.”
“You’re having us all play with fire.” The Sullisin’rune shifted in her seat. “If it is true, and you disregard it, we might well all die.”
“Come now, Ash’waren. You can’t honestly tell me you believe that there is some kind of… of… of Secondhand Soulstore!?” Zala’ess’ elder sister exclaimed. “That is a larger pile of tiki-shit than this whole ‘commoners can rule themselves’-crap Quain’tana is sprouting!”
“Then what do you suggest was that place that Waes’soloth showed us?” Rel’lumia snapped her fan closed in frustration; apparently this argument had been going on for a while before Kel’noz had been summoned. “That was certainly not someone’s backyard.”
“It was an illusion. There is no proof that a place like that exists or that it does what they claim it does.”
“Do you believe Waes’soloth’s claims, my son?” Using years of practice, Quain’tana completely disregarded the angry Sharen, focusing on the male beside her.
“Yes. Waes’soloth was never one for falsehoods. I doubt she start now for something of this magnitude.” The younger Sarghress mused. “But if you prefer, we can ask her? She was visiting me when you send for me and should still be in my rooms.”
“As if she’d give an honest answer now.” Several of those present glared at Sarv’swati when she said that, even as someone was send for Waes’soloth.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
“I think we can count the instances I was here on one hand.” Waes’soloth greeted the Sarghress Ill’haress. “Bit bare, no?”
“Yours had little more decoration, Waes.” Nega’fanea pointed out, studying the other in front of her. At the council-meeting, she had had no chance to actually look more closely at the Beldrobbaen, sitting across from her in a substantial chamber.
“Far more grandeur though.” Sitting down on the chair, the scarred female quirked a small smile. “I heard something about Sarv’swati calling Tiki-shit on everything?”
“It is tiki-shit.” The Sharen’s tone had changed little in the time it took Waes to arrive. “It’s quite obvious they’re just making up things to scare us into submission.”
“For what gain!?” Zala’ess turned to her sister. “Before Waes’soloth dropped in their collective laps or whatever, they might well not have known we even exist!”
“They knew of the Dokkalfar, but believed them died out.” Leaning on her knee, Waes’soloth studied the Sharen. “I was quite the sideshow for my first year. For the next two year, I was a trophy every Lord of the Dark Kingdom wanted to have. Then I took a mate and they all learned to leave me alone.” She shrugged lightly. “What do you want me to say here, Sarv’swati? ‘They are lying, motherkilling bitches and you don’t need to feel bad if you want to continue nether-summoning’? I am afraid I can’t do that.”
“You can’t really believe that something like that sounds even remotely believable!?” The Sharen’s General’s voice actually might have risen a few octaves when she spoke this time.
“Some facts certainly sound unbelievable when you first hear of them.” Silver eyes narrowed. “You saw the Well of Souls itself, Zarv’swati, something most plebeians of all those other people can never even fathom seeing. I exhausted myself to show it to you all. What more do you want? A private tour across all those worlds!? A demonstration of power?”
“If we could not come to blows in my home.” Quain’tana snarled lowly. “Stopping Nether-summoning is something that should have happened long ago. I will not condone someone risking some kind of massive war.”
“Hypocrisy ahoi.” Someone dryly countered.
“Perhaps I can make a suggestion?” Black hair spilled over the form as she leaned back lightly. “It’s almost Moon’s End. Organize a Festival like back in the days. The people will surely appreciate the breather of fighting and it certainly will leave a good impression of drow on our dear ambassadors. Meanwhile, I’ll try and see if I can convince those three to participate in it… considering there are also sparring-matches during it, you might even be able to see something about their capabilities in battle.”
“Considering they have no mana-arts, how dangerous can they really be, even if they have larger numbers?”
“Ask the Sharen.” Quain’tana smirked lightly. “Sarghress are just rabble, yet we’re overrunning their oh-so-fancy arts-users.”
“Not much changed.” Kel’noz told his former mate in an aside when Shimi’lande had to not-so-subtly interpose herself between the Sharen and Sarghress. “Not that you probably didn’t notice already.”
“It’s like I never left.” A crinkle appeared at her eye-corner that told him she was holding back laughter. “I am so sorry you needed to go through this alone.” She rested one hand on his knee.
“I managed.” He sighed, rising to his feet. “Say, now I am a bit curious… what more arts do they have beyond what you showed me?”
“Very subtle there.” She took a deep breath, letting the air slowly. “I’ll see about giving you a show if you manage to pull off the Festival, how’s that?”

[SFI]

“A festival?” Grace looked thrilled. “Ah, I assume we are expected to bring gifts?” She beamed at Waes’soloth. “I fear that you will have to help us pick them out.”
“I guess that is something I should have seen that coming.” The Beldrobbaen sighed lightly. “We’ll see how well that will be going.” She rose from her seat, looking over to where her two daughters are playing on the large bed of the room. “Will you join in the sparring-matches?”
The three ambassadors looked at each other. “Not against any fae, aside from you.” Sablo smirked lightly. “Mustn’t risk being defeated and sending the wrong message to everyone, after all.” He stretched lightly. “Can you be spared long enough to help pick those gifts?”
The former Ill’haress shrugged lightly, joining him as he headed for the portal that allowed the only physical travel between worlds. The two black-haired adults passed through it shortly thereafter, leaving Waes’soloth’s children in the care of the Beldrobbaen and the two remaining ambassadors.
Eurinome quickly left said care, traveling through the city on his own to the Sarghress-fortress. To say that Kel’noz was surprised when the triplegic son of his former lover appeared on his proverbial doorstep. Knowing well the state the city is in, it is more than a miracle that the boy came through without any apparent trouble.
“Is there a particular reason you visit me?” Quain’tana’s son felt a bit awkward while facing the wheelchair-bound male. For fae, with their culture’s heavy weight placed on bodily perfection, any other parent would have slain the boy the moment it became apparent he could never function normally again.
Looking down, he is struck with how much the boy looked like a surface-born Khal.
“A request of my mother.” The half-breed followed him expertly through the narrow hallways to the Sarghress’ room. “There is a theory floating among my cousins about tainted.”
“Oh?” The Headmaster wondered. “Which might be?”
“Those of us that are sensitive to souls can see the damage of tainting.” Hidden in his cloak, Kel’noz could not read the emotions of the one talking. It was not helped that it seemed the boy was in permanent pain. “We wish to study it, but of course will not taint someone just to do that.”
“You want a tainted volunteer as a guinea pig?” The Sarghress looked away briefly, looking down the hallway. “What would happen to him or her?”
The sitting male snorted darkly, silver flashing in the darkness of his hood. “Don’t worry, no intentional death. The maternal sides of our families are far too diplomatically oriented for random killing. There is a reason they send my cousins rather than coming themselves. Our fathers are the kind to kill first, then get diplomatic.”
Kel’noz blinked a few times when the other smirked. Those teeth were far sharper than normal… no wonder that apparently ‘biting’ belonged in a relationship with those people. A small shudder ran down his back when the smirk widened.
“I’ll see if I can find someone.” He finally stated. “Is that all you came here for?”
“Of course not.” Eurinome’s smirk turned into a small smile that reminded Kel’noz quite a bit of his mother. “You are the father of my half-siblings and Creator knows mother talked about you quite a bit… I’d like to get to know you myself rather than depend on my mother’s words all the time.”
They arrived at the Sarghress’ rooms and the older male opened the door to let the other inside. The wheelchair just barely fit through the opening.
With a small grunt, Waes’soloth’s son hoisted himself into the couch, casting aside the cloak hiding his face from the outside world. Fully silver eyes watched as Kel’noz came back from a side-room with drinks, offering his guest some water.
They descended into silence as the half-breed arranged the cloak in his chair, frowning a bit all the while.
“It can’t be healed?” Leaning against his side of the couch, the Sarghress Headmaster studied the form. Without the cloak, the emaciated appearance of the man was clearly visible.
“No. Some of the finest healers tried, but if a soul is truly gone from a body, nothing can restore it.” Eurinome lifted his useless arm. “Many suggested that I should just amputate them since it would allow me far more autonomy if I don’t need to lug around three useless limbs, but I can’t bring myself to do it.” He let it flop sadly back into his lap.
“What about golem-limbs?” Hesitating briefly, Kel’noz reached for the dead limb. “Can’t you replace them?”
Again Waes’soloth’s son shook his head. “We tried that too, but the mixed energies from my fae and Nephilim-sides do not work together capably enough and separately are too weak.”

[SFI]

In the end, it was no question that the Moon’s End Festival would occur. The prospect of having a chance of seeing those from beyond the Gates on a battlefield was simply too tempting to many of the greater powers.
The Chelian war froze, all players involved declaring a cease-fire for the duration of the event. The ambassadors were down to two for a couple days, Grace having left to her home for a while.
Kel’noz found himself un-officially babysitting the children of Waes’soloth, who decided they wanted to get the know the man that preceded their father. Her twins might on occasion actually terrify him, if he were to be entirely honest.
They had the habit of finishing each other’s sentences and – much like their mother and full-blooded brother – favoured shadow-travel. Much like their brother, that took the form of clouds of smoke, seeping into rooms at their will.
He was quite relieved when their mother returned early from beyond the Gates, taking them under her wing again… by moving in with him.
“Do they ever use their feet?” He demanded sharply, watching a smoke-trail leave his room.
“Do I ever?” Waes’soloth was lounging on his couch, shadows pooling around her in what was a clear statement.
“More than they do, certainly.” The Sarghress muttered, stepping on the shadows with no fear, sitting down on the couch beside her. “I have yet to see them move beyond a room on their own two feet.”
She chuckled, looking over to her two sons. Khal was sitting beside his younger brother, discussing something softly. “They worship him.”
It was amusing, certainly. For Waes’soloth, the change in her character had been gradual, near-unnoticeable, but Kel’noz more than once was struck with how different these last two decades had made her.
“Speaking of which, I heard that several people will come with the gifts.” The black-haired female spoke up after a while of silence.
“Anyone important?” He looked over with a faint smile.
“Their grand-uncle, if the rumours coming through the gate are to be believed.” She shrugged lightly. “He’s the brother of the White City’s ruler. Though he is the ‘rebel’-sibling, the weird one.” She snorted in amusement. “The Quain’tana of the rulers of the City.”
“Oh boy.” His jaw-muscles tightened a bit. “Is it an insult if we get the ‘weird sibling’?” It certainly would have been so had Diva’ratrika send Quain’tana out to do diplomacy.
“He’s the only one who would not overreact upon facing a Tainted... and our Val’Sharess, Empress or however she calls herself, is one.” The Beldrobbaen admitted with an undertone of sadness. “The White City is like the Kyorl, Kel’noz. Few are open-minded enough to ask first and kill later when looking upon the prove of what we have done in their world.”
“I see.”
They were surprised when someone knocked on the door and opened it at the same time. Sablo had arrived. “I am not interrupting?”
“It would be too late now, anyway.” Waes’soloth recalled her shadows, rising from her seat. “What brings you here?”
“Grace has returned. The gifts are ready and Metatron has arrived at Nephilim Keep.” The black-haired man stated. “When are the festivities supposed to start?”
“Three days.” Kel’noz rose as well, joining the other two. “I will inform my mother and the others then, so if you will excuse me.” He headed out of the room, leaving them.

[SFI]

Two days before the Festival was scheduled to begin, two more people came through the gate. One looked like he was kin to two of the ambassadors, having the same sand-coloured skin and white hair. Unlike theirs his eyes were a striking white, shining lightly in the gloom of the cavern that housed Chel.
The other was a strange looking man. He was bald and his skin was near-red. What was most striking however was that his half-body armour was bolted to his chest, scars marring the edge between flesh and metal. Deep inlaid scars formed a simple pattern on his other shoulder. His vibrant orange eyes seemed alight with a hellish fire.
They introduced themselves as Metatron, twin to the White City’s ruler – who did not travel well – and for a long time its’ de facto ruler and Samael, lord of Red Court, who had risen to the seat of ultimate power shortly after Waes’soloth had gained her scars.
With the presence of these two, the three ambassadors were relegated to a bodyguard position, yielding the floor to the two new arrivals.
The first time the two factions met, was a short one. The tainted had felt the disapproval of their white-haired guest in his heavy gaze. And still, Sarv’swati kept voicing her displeasure at the whole thing.
“She reminds me of your brother.” Samael purred with a low voice, regarding the older Sharen-sister with mere amusement.
“Indeed.” Metatron sighed softly. “For her sake, I hope she had a better fate than he.” He shifted and so did the subtle iridescent reflections on his ivory robes.
“Oh?” Quain’tana couldn’t help but wonder.
“Our sister killed him with impunity.” The ambassador’s grand-uncle smiled serenely. “After one time pushing her too far. He was little mourned.” He leaned forward lightly. “I would not mind to do the honours.”
“Now just a moment.” Zala’ess spoke up. “She’s my sister.”
“Didn’t stop you before.” In the short time he had been here, it had become apparent that Samael knew far more than he possibly should. “Do not act coy with us, Empress. I know very well what happened here during that little… Nidra’chaal war you had.”
His four-fingered hand ever so briefly tugged on the dragon-decorated serape the self-proclaimed Val’Sharess was wearing. She didn’t answer him, though a faint hit of colour shot up her neck. He kept smirking, even as he meandered over to Waes’soloth.
Metatron seemed to be used to it, merely rolling his eyes lightly at his counterpart. “You need better taste in men, my dear.”
“I like it.” Grace smiled playfully. “Besides, I can agree with him here. Sarv’swati is beyond useless.”
The Sharen snarled at that.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Quain’tana thought it mostly hilarious. It was quite entertaining to see the Sharen fume impotently. For all her bluster, Sarv’swati was not willing to risk driving it too far and potentially blow things into a war.
Still, something felt off. Metatron and Samael, for all their unity against the drow, still seemed to have plenty of friction between them as well.
She glanced over to the scarred Beldrobbaen. One of these days, she really needed to hear her out about the politics of the other side.
Almost in answer to her thought, Samael’s eyes flicked to her and he leaned towards Metatron for a soft whisper. The other new arrival quirked an eyebrow, his arms crossing lightly.
“I am curious about something.” It came out of nowhere, quite frankly. “What was your plan with the taint should you have realized it was a bad idea without our interference?” He tucked his hands into his sleeves. “It is taking no genius to see you were close to that one.” White eyes briefly focused on one of the Imperial guards, who was suffering from tainting-sickness.