Shotacon and Ellancher
 

Name: Ireth Reingel

Age: 492 years old

Race: Elf

Gender: Male

Hair: Short, unkempt, wavy blonde.

Eyes: Soft grass green

Skin: Lightly tanned

Ht: 5' 8"

Wt: 170

Clothing: A fur trimmed leather half-cape that has a few of his hiden daggers sheaths sewn into its underside around his waist. A leather jerkin which hides a dagger near his chest. He wears an arm band that bears a collection of symbols that are suppost to bring him good luck. A pair of leather riding gloves are almost always on his hands as are his boots, which he covers with a pair of loose fitting trousers.

Personality: He lets his mind wander to other things when he's bored and is very spontaneous, often coming up with childish activities.

Short Background: He's been fairly reclusive amungs other people, and has taken up a collection of solo duties from a messanger from town to town, to hunting poachers to mapping to forests he's done it all. Though he's been in relationships with another every once and awhile he's never taken it seriously.

http://i1130.photobucket.com/albums/...aracterpic.jpg

Tarith looks out one of the higher windown on the east tower. His castle, dismle and dark, stands on a tall hill in the misdts of a large forest, and the high vantage point allows the necromancer to see most of his land beyond the grounds to th east. His dark gray eyes scan the forest bellow, searching. 'I know I felt it. Something is down there. Something, alive. . . . .' Failing to spot the sorce from the window Tarith turns and begins down the spiral stair. 'Whatever it is, it doesn't belong here. We will soon see who dares come into my land' Reaching the ground floor he moves past several of his undead servants, waving them away as the come forward, offering their aid. The lifeless forms shuffle back into place as they watch their master vanish around a corner on his way to the stables. Passing the great red oak front doors he glances again towards the east. Even through the thick wood, he can sense the invader. 'Hmph, such nerve'

The swish of his long coat is the only sound besides the heels of his boots clicking on the stone floor of the hallways. Finaly reaching a side entrance just outside the stable, a servant opens the door just as he reaches it so his stride remains unbroken. The sounds of his small heard of nightmares bring the faintest hint of a smile to his lips, but the gesture vanishes in an instant. Stepping inside the stable, a young stallion stands between the stalls, already saddled as the undead who had done so steps away from the beast. The youthful vampire has his eyes cast downwards and dose not look up as his master mounts the nightmare. The stallion shakes it's firey red mane, it's bright red hair blanding smoothly into the coal black of it's coat. Brushing back a stray hair from the chain on his forehead, Tarith kicks the beast forward, leaving a small trail of dust in his wake. 'I wonder what it is this time? It has been so long. . . . .Perhaps this one will not be as dumb as the last. . . .' Tarith's mind wanders as he rides out into the dark forest, a faint hope in his mind that he waon't have to kill this one on sight. It had truly been a long time since he had company.

Ireth wasnot enjoying being in those woods. He'd been bitten by undead squirrels, pecked in the back of the head by crows and ravens. Now, he was in a tree with a collection of undead forest nasties snarling and growling up at him. With a sigh, Ireth kicked down a squirrel and climbed up another branch.
"This is not fun at all," he muttered under his breath, swatting away a raven that came swooping down at him. It's break dug through his glove and into his skin before he got the bird away from him. Whiping the bloof off his palms and onto his pants the elf climbed up another branch. Noting that the branch was bending a little more than he'd wanted it to.

Glancing down he watched a wolf snarl and scratch at the tree, half way through a scratch the scruffy beast stepped back and whimpered before turning tail and running into the dead underbrush. Ireth watched as the ravens and the squirrels ran away as fast as their legs could take them. Something in his mind told him that he shouldn't run, but he should stay in the tree and maybe go higher. He did just that and scaled a few more branches, snapping a few twigs off as he settled into a crouch near the trunk of the thin upper trunk of the tree.

Tarith slows his nightmare, sensing the sorce of the life energy not too far ahead. Pulling in the reins he brings his mount to a stop and dismounts. With a quick pat he tells the beast to stay put and begins moving closer to the life energy's location. The faint rustling of small animals running from before him bring him a little amusement. 'It is good that they flee. I have little patience for their bothersome presance at the moment' Looking about he tries to locate just where the life force is coming from. His skin begins to itch and suddenly his eye shoot upwards, locking on the top of a nearby tree. 'Oh ho, so it is hideing from me? Foolish thing, what does it think it can gain? It is in my territory now. . . .' Moving to the base of the tree, Tarith looks strait up. His lips curl into a slight smile as he spots the figure crouched at the top.

Tilting his head back and forth to gett a better look, he lets the smile get a little wider. 'An elf eh? He looks young too. Strange, the elves know better then to enter this forest, so why?' SHaking off the question for now he moves until he can look into the firgure's eyes. Careful to keep his tone lite Tarith speaks. "Why hello there. It seems you have come into my forest by mistake. How about you come down here so we may speak. It would be quite a bother to have to crane my neck upwards for so long. So how about it? Come down?" His voice is low and smooth, a note of self confidence tainting the otherwise innocent sounding requests.

Ireth shrugged, "Well, I'd rather not, since I perfer not the have undead forest animals attempting to bite my fingers off." he replied looking down. He shivered, the air felt cold now, he pulled his cloak a little closer to him.
"Though I will come down a little lower," he added, working his way down so he was only a few branches above Tarith's head.
"And I'm not lost, I know well where I am," Ireth stated very matter-of-factly as he titled his chin upwards.
"A few of the elven council members were worried that the necromancer in the aera was raising an army for a pair of undead wolves were shot on elven territory, and it's my mission to find out if he is or not." Ireth looked down and raised an eyebrow as he lowered his head to get a better look at the man.
"You wouldn't be able to help me would you?"

Tarith feins looking puzzled and looks about. "I see no undead here. Perhaps they wandered in from somwhere else?" He smiles softly and looks up again. "I may not know all of my forest like my own home, but I think I would notice an undead army wandering about." Stepping back, Tarith looks around again, getting a wicked idea. Feeling outwards, he pulls forward a pack of at least 20 wolves, bidding them to come. 'Elves normaly have such protective spirits, I wonder if he'll be able to ignore this?' The pack leader suddenly lets out a bone chilling howl, and with a courus of snarrels and yelps, the pack bursts through the undergrowth, surrounding the tree. Tarith does his best to look frightend and backs up against the tree. "What, how? Where? What are these things? What are they doing here?!" He lets his voice tremble slightly as the pack advances menecingly on him and the tree with the elf in it. In a hushed high whisper he whinpers, "Help, I don't want to die." A second later one of the wolves lunges forward, and Tarith ducks so that it goes flying overhead. He lets out a small yelp. 'That one smelled ripe. These guys haven't been feeding well.' Still crouched, he presses his hands firmly against the tree, letting out small sounds of fright.

By the time the wolf that had lunged was on the ground once more Ireth had dropped from the tree and promptly pulled one of his larger knives from its sheath and slashed at the wolf as it attacked once more, leaving a nasty gash in it chest and shoulder. Though the wolf wasn’t discouraged and still snapped its jaws in the air, snagging a piece of the elf’s cloak as he turned and used the momentum to slam the wolf against the tree and then send it back into the ring of wolves, knocking another over and leaving a blood stain on the ground.

The leader, a mangy, mostly black wolf with its ears in tatters and pieces of other colored fur in patches, stepped forward from the ring. Ireth grimaced; it was obviously undead. He noticed that others were of a similar condition. Though none of them were quite as large as the leader who paced back and forth, watching the two. The elf crouched, reaching a hand back to grab Tarith by the shoulder and lift him back up.

“Any combat skills?” he whispered, just loud enough for the necromancer to hear him. Ireth was confident in his skills, but he knew with his hand already injured he would need assistance against the wolves.

Tarith's lips curl into a light grin of amusement. Drawing from his belt his long cuved dagger he says in a hushed whisper. "Enough skill for this occassion I suppose." With liquid ease he slides up behind the elf and reaches around him with his free hand. Carefully he brings the dagger in his right hand around to press gently against the elf's throat, while his left hand slips down the elf's arm to grip the wrist of the hand holding the bright elvish dagger. Pressing the dagger a little harder into the pale throat he whispers, "Do not fight me elf. You are at more of a disadvantage then you know." Slipping his fingers down softly he pulls the dagger free from the elf's grip, tossing it to the nearest wolf zombie to hold. It catches the dagger in it's teeth, but is careful not to damage it.

Sliding the other dagger free he tosses it to another wolf. The wolves have settled into a neat ring around the elf and the necromancer. All eyes set on the pair in the middle. "So, a few of my children have been wandering out of the woods, how naughty of them. I do hope they behaved." Tarith lets out a chuckle at the humorless joke. Pressing close to the elf's back, the nercomancer inhales deeply. "Hmph, the scent of life hangs so thick upon you. . . . .Turns my stomach." Tarith sends out a low call with his mind and in only a few seconds one of his servants appears outside the circle of wolves. "Bellasia." He purrs to the young looking male vampire. The figure bows, revealing thich brown hair tumbling from behind his back to cover his face.

"Yes my lord?" Bellasia replies, his voice revealing a voice to match his youthful looks. His cloths of fine red wine velvet seems to almost glisten in the moonlight.

"Bellasia, I want you to take care of our young guest here. Put him in one of the finer cells if you would. Stay by him if he needs anything." Tarith's voice is cool and comanding, but with a suprising softness for what he was saying. The youth stands, his face flat and without apparent emotion. His eyes though seem to gleam with an inner light or deep greenish gray.

"Yes my lord." He replies, holding his hand out towards the elf. Tarith murmurs a short booter spell and in an instant the elfs body is seized by the vampire's Charm. In a firm voice Bellasia says, "You will follow me. I will leave your voice free, as my lord wishes, but you will follow. Do not resist, for it will only hurt you. My lord does not wish harm upon you yet, so if you resist, I will be forced to relieve you of your consiousnes." As he speaks, Tarith moves away from the frozen elf and makes his way out of the circle of wolves, and towards his waiting nightmare. With a flick of his wrist, he dispells the wolves who head off towards the north in unhurried movements. Bellasia motions the elf forward, and against it's will, it moves to follow.

"Enough skill for this occassion I suppose." Ireth breathed a sigh of releif, until the knife brushed his skin and he felt the icy chill of a hand around his wrist. He watched the necromancer tosses his knifew tothe wolves who caught them without damaging them. The moment the word's 'my children' were spoken Ireth's stiffened, feeling the hairs on his neck rise as he mentally kicked himself for being anything but suspicious of the man who now held a knife to his throat.

When the other man, Bellasia, spoke Ireth knew the moment he saw the fangs that he was a vampire. He watched the necromancer and the wolves leave as his body followed Bellasia. Once Ireth was sure the necromancer was out of natural earshot he looked over at the vampire with curiosity.
"You know, I've never met a real vampire before." Ireth felt at ease around the vampire and went on asking questions about thwat it was like, if legends were true, things of that manner. The elf only stopped talking for the vampire's answers up until Tarith's castle came into view.