Emere

A stern mage with a wild heart...

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From an early age, many knew Emere was different… different from his family, different from his friends, and all those who shared his tiny community amidst the sands of Calimport. His mother, a simple peasant woman, possessed little but great beauty. A woman desired by many, but whom, herself, desired little; that is, until she met him. He held no title, was just a visiting soldier, but one possessed of great courage, great physical features, and a mysterious and electrifying air about him. In fact, when she gazed at him from her window, she almost thought she saw the air toss and tousle his hair in playful waves, even on days when the wind was hot but still. And his hair, she shyly admitted, was one of his great features… black to the point of being deep blue, altogether like his eyes… deep azure with little flecks of silver that leapt across the iris in playful arcs.

She suspected that he may have been one of the ffolk of the realm, born from the elemental bloodlines that ran strong in this area, but that mattered little to her. His eyes danced, and he noticed her.

The courtship had been quick, a shy smile, and flirtatious word, and in a few months, the two had lain together as man and wife, the itinerant soldier and the proud peasant, and their love and their lust had leapt like so much light in the stormy night sky. It was on their first night together that she discovered his marks, faint tattoos of silver and deepest blue that etched their way across his muscular form – back, arms, torso, and face. The lines were jagged and angular, mimicking the lightning he so loved to watch as it raced through the heavens, lines that she loved to trace with her fingers as he slept.

All too soon, though, he was called off to war. The armies were massing to the north, and so he was called to defend his land. As he left that fall morning, he turned back to her briefly; making quick eye contact with her, but not enough to solicit a smile or a gesture… whatever he saw, she only saw those deep blue eyes.

10 years later, it was those same blue eyes that graced her son’s face, eyes that sparked with a similar light. Emere had been an unusual child, quick tempered, friendly, but possessed of a solitary streak that often got him into trouble. Much like his father, he was quick to react, for better or worse, and much like his father, the air stirred about him, responding to his attitude and whims. As he grew older into manhood, those whims became wilder, and the playful light that had danced now rioted about him… Emere had the unusual talent (or curse) to be able to direct that lightning about him, making it leap from him in increasingly damaging bolts and arcs, until she could no longer control him as only a mother wanted to, nor could she protect him from those who saw his abilities as dangerous or frightening. It was this that eventually convinced her that she had to send Emere out into the world, away from their home and those who might love him, but were still afraid to love him for fear of being hurt.

Much like his father, Emere left in the fall, the cold morning sunlight illuminating the lines of sapphire that traced across his own face and arms, much like his father. As he left, he turned to face his mother, and as their eyes connected, she swore she saw two sets of eyes gazing back at her… father and son spanning 20 years of sorrow and melancholy. But now, her son smiled his quirky grin, waved, and leapt away down the road to seek his fortune.

And in the distance, thunder roared overhead as bolts of lightning traced the morning sky on a day that was sunny and clear.

Emere

Fancy Lad Adventures hmoltenblue