Urominiel Family/Elenaraloki

Elenaraloki

Realms:Eleador
Positions:Former Archpriest, Royal Treasurer, High Marshal, Battlegroup Commander
Currently: Deceased, died as a hero on the battlements of Ashforth.

Eyes of a Child

An epic battle, the clash of wood on wood, the laughter of comrades, children, he felt as if he were there again. Then the battle gave way to the voice of his mother, Nnoaj, and she stood there calling to him with her winding orange-red hair and radiant smile, just as he remembered it. "Elenhir, its getting late, time to go home". He gathered his wooden sword and shield then waved to his comrades knowing another epic battle would be waiting tomorrow.

He ran towards his mother full of tales of his days adventures, but she grew ever more distant and her radiant expression faded into melancholy. He heard noises of battle behind him but it was no longer coming from his childhood friends. He turned to see his father, Elenaraloki, General and Hero of Eleador upon the battlements of Ashforth. Blood streamed from his armour, from the volley upon volleys of arrows that rained down. Soon after the battlements were overrun with Perdanite and Oligarch troops. Elenaraloki slew many but he wasnt known for his swordmanship, soon he was overcame. The Eleador capital fell and the city burned. Elenhir stood in utter disbelief, the man he once though invincible lay in a pile of bloodied bodies.

The ruins of the city became leaves in a bondfire and he watched the embers dance in the autumn breeze. From beyond the hill, he recognized the banner of the approaching unit, the Lancers, his father had come home. His ever joyous mother came through the doors to greet her husband, but instead was handed his belongings. "Where is daddy?" he asked her, but she didnt reply. Nnoaj kneeled down and held her son tight, so hard that Elenhir had difficulty breathing. But he didnt dare move since this was the first time he had seen his mother cry.

The weight on his shoulders grew and his now steel sword weighed in his hand. He turned to see his mother in that doorway, that was the last time he had ever seen her. She had never been the same since she was widowed at the age of twenty two. He turned away from her for the last time, when he returned from the military academy the house was no longer occupied.

Rank upon ranks of Old Rancaguan troops and amoungst them stood Elenhir, and with him his father Elenaraloki, courageous, noble and mother Nnaoj, caring, amiable. Elenhir awoke in his tent in Woolton from the maggots, the images still fresh in his mid, where were those virtues now?