Melody of Mana

Far, far, to the south and west of the Kingdom of Bergond, on the continent of Elazia, in the country known as the Magocracy of Atal there was a small town. This town was known as Eratol and sat just to the north of a set of great ruins. Few dared enter those ruins but those who did passed through Eratol for their final resupply before their delve. Most who stopped by on their way in never returned again, their lives lost to the ancient place.

Preparations were made at a small home just to the outside of the town. The open field nearby had been festooned with banners and tents, small lamps were strung as they led inward to the ceremonial area. It was a festive occasion as more and more decorations were added.

Near the central tent stood Ilazia of House Ralentel. She was no high born lady, no important person to most, but today she commanded all in her circle and they all obeyed. For tomorrow was her wedding day and she would see to it that everything would be perfect. Every banner had to be hung just so. The lighting must be proper of course, for this was one of the most important days of her young life.

Eventually though even she was commanded, this time by her mother, and grandmother and great-grandmother. Her dress had been settled upon months ago and was set, but her other outfit for the coming night still needed to be looked over by those who knew such things better than her.

Soon she found herself dressed in the costume for her dance. This dance would have only one member of audience. For elves had a tradition, dating long and far back as any knew. On the night of a woman's marriage she should dance for her husband, showing him all she was, and all that would now be his. He of course would have to do the unthinkable and show her the full might of his magic, that she might see all she was gaining as well.

While every elf had magic, most could do only a few minor tricks, a handful of spells to make their day to day life easier. True casters were no more common than to any other race, just the fact that they all had that little spark. Which was hidden from the world, only ever shown to the most personal and closest of people, parents or spouses would know the truth, but none other than that. Ilazia had never seen her betrothed's full aura, only a glimpse here and there. She knew, as well she could, that he was no true caster, but tomorrow she would know for absolute certain.

The young elf maiden stood in her bangles and tied bits of brief silk before her forbearers spinning and turning as directed. They had only a few things that needed checking over, a few bits to add here and there.

Her mother went first, adding a coin to a hem of the outfit, followed by her grandmother and great-grandmother. That done her aunts came to do the same, then her other female kin were brought in, in an order decided through frankly byzantine rules. One by one they came, each attaching a small coin to the outfit so that it would jingle as she performed for her husband. This was a form of gift to her along with tradition, money to start their new household together.

"That is a respectable amount," her great-grandmother said as the last left.

"At least as much as I had." grandmother agreed.

Her mother nodded. "Yes, our family has been growing well. Ilazia, see to it that you continue it's growth."

"Of course mother." The maiden blushed as her mother basically commanded her to produce as many heirs as she could. It was the traditional command, but still a bit much.

Now ready for tomorrow she carefully removed her dancing outfit, the bits of flowing red and purple silks being locked in a small box for her tomorrow evening. She returned to her simple blue outfit, bound with a light silver chain and made for her bed. It was a small, tent to the side of that she would be using tomorrow, with a good, comfortable bed so that she would be very well rested.

Outside the central area where the ladies were resting the lads had just begun their evening of celebration. The noise was kept to a minimum, but all played games and toasted the groom to be. The tents of the male family members of both sides were arrayed around the wedding venue in a circle, they would mix a party with guarding the location, and every man was armed in some manner.

"Thank you my brothers, for all the kindness you've shown to me." Ormien toasted, giving shoulders of friends and relatives a light shake as he moved among the crowd. "For tomorrow I shall be wed, and I fear my lovely wife shall keep me from many of you for awhile." That got a laugh. "For tonight though, let us enjoy ourselves, and celebrate life!"

"To life!" The crowd cheered as they raised their cups and drained them.

As the merriment continued a sound that should not have been drifted across the field. A pained scream fell upon the ears of revelers and brought their party to an abrupt end. The wedding guard looked at each other for only a moment before blades were drawn and helmets picked up. None had truly expected a need for it, but tonight it seemed the kinsmen would need to fight to protect tomorrow's celebration.

The source was easy to find, elven ears were sharp and their skill at detecting the direction from which something had sounded good. What they found there was one of the bride's cousins, his torso opened and organs ripped out.

"What are we up against?" Ormien asked one of his uncles, the best hunter amongst them.

"Can't tell, whatever it was it took him fast."

"Something from the ruins?"

"Hard to say, one thing is for certain. It's not one of our kind. Look at the wounds, looks like a large mouth and claws."

Ormien looked at his soon to be father-in-law, "Can your kinsmen protect while my brothers and I hunt the beast?"

The older elf smiled. "Good lad, go and add the thing to tomorrow's feast."

Ormien grabbed five of his most skilled kinsmen and they prepared for the fight. Their blades were loose as they began to circle the camp, each ready for the fight.

It didn't take long before another body was found. Another of those on guard had fallen to the beast, his guts spilled across the grass. As the hunters circled they found the monster must be doing the same. It was taking individuals who were too far away from others, and must have been doing so for a good bit.

By their first circle of the camp the hunters had found ten dead. All of these had been part of the group stationed here, apparently caught off guard by whatever monster was now hunting them. They'd also all been alone, unable to have any others assist them when they fell.

As they came around a second time there was a scream of pain from one of those still on guard. They were too late as they fell upon the location. Two of theirs lay on the ground, one gone and the other just holding on by a thread, as they approached the fallen warrior pointed into the camp before breathing his last and falling limp.

There were shrieks as the creature stepped amongst the elven women. Few were still awake, but they were not prepared for such a monster in their midst. Ormien ran into the camp as fast as he could, leaving several of the men in his party behind as he sped forward. At this point even the guards who'd taken up positions would fall inside, desperate to protect their loved ones.

His first glimpse of it was standing over one of his fiance's cousins. The poor girl had had her throat torn out. The beast standing above her was pitch black, its form twisting and fading in and out like a shadow. Ormien could do nothing as it turned and bolted towards another of the women. It was fast, nearly a blur against the darkness this thing seemed to call home.

Arrows flew towards it, and through harmlessly. Ormien registered that with tremendous fear. Whatever this creature was it seemed immune to normal forms of damage. He didn't have much that might harm it, but he would do all in his power.

"Try magic! Regular weapons useless!" Ormien screamed as he pumped his feet, its current victim was lost as it brought jaws down upon her throat.

Upon his call a few weak bolts of energy flew forwards at the creature. It dodged most of them, the few that struck dealt damage, but sadly nowhere near enough. The beast was illuminated, its wolf-like form twisting in momentary surprise, before turning coal red eyes at those who'd harmed it.

It had taken enough, Ormien charged his blade with all the mana he could as he swung at the monster, leaving a weeping rent in its side. As it turned back on him he saw into its depths, its very look radiated nothing but pure hate as a paw slapped him away. He flew like a ragdoll slamming into the ground some twenty feet away. He was cut from the thing's nails and fairly sure he had at least one broken rib.

It took several hits from the crowd as it flashed about a bite or the slash of a paw taking the combatants down one by one. They were simply not dealing enough damage to the thing to bring it down. Ormien struggled to stand as the thing flashed around the camp.

There were a few more with blades like his. Simple constructions that could harness the mana inside a fighter into a cutting force. They were not powerful, and with the infinitesimal amount of mana most elves possessed they were only a couple times more effective than a regular sword. But they were able to damage the creature, even if the wounds were not deep enough to kill.

They were losing. Too many were falling to the creature or fleeing for their lives. That was when he saw his worst fear. Ilazia fled from her tent into the central area and the beast turned its head towards her, seeming almost pleased.

"NO!" Ormien screamed.

The groom to be found that his injuries were no longer a problem as he rose. He felt like someone had lit a bonfire in his chest as he roared at the creature. His sword, that on his last attack had only a pale paltry glow now burned like purifying fire, vibrating in his hand. He could feel his skin harden to iron and muscles tighten as his enemy turned to face him.

There were now only two combatants that mattered. They flew at each other. As the groom and the beast clashed each roared rage at the other. The others couldn't keep up. This monster had been toying with them before, it no longer toyed. Burning sword and blackened claw slashed as they made their passes, each scoring hits on the other.

Sadly Ormien had no idea how to use his new power. He was strong, and fast, but he overextended. His bones and tendons screamed as they moved at speeds they couldn't handle, in ways they were never designed for. The elf didn't know how to fight like a true soldier and each strike hit well, each bad landing jarred him. He fought on though, gritting his teeth through the pain.

He slashed, but overextended. As the beast ducked under his blow and it was over. The monster came up and with a snap of hits horrid jaws took his arm in its maw, shearing it at the hand and shoulder. The creature chewed once and swallowed as the elf fell to the ground.

Ormien waited for his death, which was sure to come. The beast looked at him, it seemed to be smiling. Then it turned towards his beloved Ilazia. She tried to turn and flee but it was no use as the monster, now victorious lunged for his prize.