Chapter 1: "Quest to Redemption"
Chapter 1: "Quest to Redemption"
Are my eyes truly open?
Everything that I was seems so fake…
… but…why do I long to be a part of it again?
Warrick wandered the room once again, eyeing every account of history and rarity that the Council has placed in their Historical Chambers. The chamber giving off the feeling of mid-fall, being composed of reds, oranges and yellows. He used to find solace in this library of sorts. Learning by reading from the chronicles and using that knowledge to show loyalty toward his elders, the Council. That sense of peace has left Warrick. For him, that peace has been replaced by a dull staleness.
He stopped in front of a glass case, imprisoning the Book of Storia Oltre laying on a crimson laced and gold trimmed pillow. “Ironic,” he spoke softly, “Elves, such an ideal race who do not idolize anything, let alone anyone, continue to muse items of ideology.” His eyes squint, partially behind locks of slightly curly, blond hair, as if he were reading the book from where it sat. At that moment, his long, protruding ears twitched to the non-existent sound of someone entering. He turned around just as his childhood friend and appointed Grigori entered his presence. As she began to speak, Warrick cut her off. “Celeia, why do we feel the need to house such artifacts when ideology is frowned upon in our society?”
“We feel the need to hold historical events to the correct account in which they happened,” she responded in a harsh matter-of-fact manner without making any form of body language. “The Council requests that you join them in the meeting hall.”
“Very well,” Warrick started his way to the Council’s meeting hall, Celeia following in sequence behind. Her direct attitude always seemed astounding. Not that it was rude, which it was, but the calmed way she spoke. It always struck Warrick odd, even as children. Celeia always had the attitude of a Grigori, she had the heart of a watcher. It wasn’t surprising when she obtained the role of a Grigori, though, it was surprising that she was the first from the Leviticus House to become one, not to mention she was female.
Eventually Warrick, and his escort, passed through the corridors who’s colors grew from the descending reds and oranges of Fall to Spring and Summer’s more lively greens and blues. No matter the look, the cold from Fall still lingered among the implied feel of Spring. The two rounded a corner finally to be walking into the presence of the Council. The Council Hall was decorated with even more heirlooms of the past. Many were portrait paintings of former elders which gave an ominous and unsettling look throughout the vast room. The placement was more to the look of a courtroom whereas the judge’s podium had been replaced by the juries’ gallery.
“Warrick Exodus…” spoke the head elder across from a long table that divided the room in half.
“Council,” he cut the head elder off, “Did you summon me for a casual meeting or for another mission to send me to death? Or perhaps you would like me to just fall on my own sword?” Warrick loved to watch the faces the Council made at such rude comments, he couldn’t help the smile form on one corner of his mouth.
“Watch yourself Scout! And remove you expression,” demanded one elder. He ignored her.
The head elder spoke up, “No matter your rude entrance, you prove useful to us, Warrick. We would like to think that you are grateful for our leniency towards you and your condition.”
“Is that what you call it?” he asked sarcastically.
“Your House would be ashamed,” the female elder spoke up again.
“Too bad they are dead. Let’s not forget the reason why,” Warrick spat at them.
“Enough,” the head elder started again, “Let us focus on your exile. I’m sure you would be happy to receive your last mission for your return to our society. However, you do realize that being such an…Unknown, the society won’t welcome you back with open arms?”
“I do,” he replied.
“Since you seem so confident, here,” the elder said as he slid a large, manila envelope across the table for Warrick, “Your objective is to hunt out the Spades Vampire.” Warrick glared into the elder’s eyes and picked up the envelope. “In that you will find a detailed description of the vampire as well as his hunting grounds.”
“For my last mission, you send me just to hunt a vampire?” he asked somewhat amused.
“He is a skilled vampire. We need someone with great skill to take care of this,” the elder responded.
“Fine, this will be easy,” Warrick said while turning around to walk out.
“Warrick…” the elder called but to no use. Warrick ignored him and continued to walk out. The elder turned to the Grigori, “You and the other have your orders as well.” She nodded and left.
The pill-shaped encasement stretched around Warrick and the rest of the passengers. The hull began to shutter slightly, but this was to be expected. Warrick knew this feeling and grown accustomed to it. He was on his way to finally be finished with what he started so long ago and be accepted back into his home. His redemption would now be over with this final task. An easy one, but not one he would turn away.
It was mid-day when Warrick left the natural splendor of Legno Nascosti, the elven city. By the time his flight departed the day had grown into the late evening. The time had come that he decided rest would be needed before he started his hunt the next morning in the city of angels. Los Angeles.
This chapter is not yet finished and I will post the rest once it is.