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[Foxy_Aristocracy]

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Branwen sat alone in her bedroom sitting on the small window seat gazing out into the dark night.. a single candle flickers across the room from her casting shadows on the stone walls.."Branwen.." she looks around the room.. "Branwen" she hears a strange voice calling to her again and rose to her feet.. "who is there?" She yells demanding for an answer.. "Branwen." She walks down the long corridor to the giant gothic stone fire place. The fire crackling spitting and the flames dancing... Branwen!! the ominous voice yells echoing through the entire manor. The form of a fire daemon stood glowing in the red flames, black eyes looking at wer with clear malas and hate.. an orb of white energy shot from his hand hitting her directly in the chest.. She hits the marble floor with a large thud. She lay motionless and a small puddle of blood begins forming around her head. Evil laughter fills the room as the daemon disappears into ash and shadows. Smoke and crimson red flames fill the room and begin pouring down the stairs and out the front entrance the intence heat craking the once beautiful stain glass windows.


A torn piece of parchment, penned in blood appeared on the front steps..

Lars, We found you.. and we will finish what we have begun 25 years ago and kill all those you love ..unless you give us what we seek.. consider this a warning.

Seven days.

[Foxy_Aristocracy]

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Lars is riding his etherial toward Luna and home after a late afternoon hunt, his dread warhorse keeping a brisk but not urgent pace. *He speaks to his mount, * "Soon I shall be home with Branwen, and you shall be released from your burden." *Lars smiles, chuckling to himself under his breath* Upon hearing his words, the dread steed quickens its pace slightly. As time passes, the soft pastels of twilight are enveloped by the inky black darkness of a strangely moonless night. Lars looks a short distance ahead, expecting to glimpse the golden aura of candles lighting the windows of his home. Instead, to his utter horror, he sees the bright orange glow of a violent conflagration...the manor is englfed in sheets of flame!

Lars' eyes grow big as saucers as a singular thought flashes through his mind like a bolt of lightining...BRANWEN!...THE BABY!...he shouts. He grinds his heels into the side of his mount and lets out an ear splitting HIYA! at the top of his lungs! Shimmering etherial blood trickles from small wounds as the horse screams into action, covering the last quarter mile to the manor in seeming seconds.

Upon arrival, the steed vanishes in a furious vapor and Lars finds himself instantly on his feet, he pulls his cloak over his head and round his face, swallows the large lump of fear in his throat, and with a forearm extended, charges for the door. He flings the door wide and is nearly knocked from his feet as fresh air rushes in to feed the hungry beast of flame.

He crouches low to the ground, his lungs choked with smoke, his eyes watering, inching forward through the entryway he calls BRAN *coughs* BRANWEN! The once proud home is alight with the flames of Tartarus! He charges up the center staircase, flames licking at his arms and legs...BRANWEN! Dodges to his right as the suit of golden armor topples and carreens with a crash down the stairs, missing him by inches!

Turning to his left at the top of the staircase, he sprints through the gauntlet of flame that was once the kitchen and battles his way up the second flight of stairs, slipping once as part of the masonry gives way beneath him.

Finally reaching the top of the stairs he enters the great vaulted hallway, and finds his young wife unconscious on the floor in a pool of her own blood, her extremities are badly burned and she lies motionless, as one dead, encompassed about by burning furiture and tapistries, embers from the ceiling falling all around her, popping and spitting.

Lars knows the weakened ceiling could coolapse at any moment...quickly, and without thought for his own life, he runs to her, and removing his own cloak, he covers her. then scooping her up in his arms, as he had done so many times past, and charges toward the stairs.


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[Foxy_Aristocracy]

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He bounds down the first flight, denying the tumbling pieces of masonry their prize. Behind him a thunderous noise as the portion of the roof under which his wife was just lying, succomes to the raging inferno *He takes a shallow breath of smoke filled air, lowers his head, and clutching Branwen's body closely, fords his way through the consumed kitchen running as fast as his tiring legs will carry them!

Lars' vision begins to tunnel as the lack of oxygen and heat begin to extract a heaver toll, he feels lightheaded, near to the point of passing out. Through the murderous flames, in the distance Lars can see his final goal, the front door and freedom from this hell. I must hang on, I MUST! he thinks to himself. Mustering his ebbing strength, he bounds with his characteristically large strides down the remains of the grand staircase. With one final Hurculean effort, he vaults over the broken and scattered pieces of the now nearly molten golden suit of armor and runs out the door only a split second ahead of a large ceiling timber which comes down with a cacauphonous thud, blocking the door forever!

Functioning now on pure adrenalin, he runs clear of the burning hulk and colapses to the lawn, coughing and crying. He places Branwen down on the soft grass, calling her name through his copious tears. He slaps her cheek gently, attempting to rouse her, calling all the time BRANWEN! BRANWEN! There is no response.

He listens for breath sounds, she is not breathing. Realizing he has only mere seconds now, he stiffens his resolve, he knows now what he must do. He rises to his feet, standing perched over the body of his one true love. He extends his arms in the shape of a cross, drawing on the spark of the Divine Spirit that endwells all things in nature, he raises his dark blue eyes to the heavens, and in a thunderous voice, augmented by Divine Power, the Bishop utters the mystic words:"Dium Prasta"

Instantly, the heavens shake in response as the sky seems to be rent in twain and the two lovers are encased in a brilliant, shimmering, nearly blinding light. Lars' Luna white armor begins to glow the color of burnished bronze, his auburn hair seemingly bleached white as snow, lit by the glory which surrounds them, and moved by the force of a divine wind...

Divine power begins to surge through every fiber of Branwen's lifeless body, she startles awake, eyes wide, and inhales forcefully, not unlike one drowning who suddenly comes up for air...
The child within her womb leaps suddenly, and Branwen slowly lifts her badly burned hand in front of her face, and watches in astonishment as the destroyed flesh begins to renew itself, becoming like that of a newborn babe...

******

[Foxy_Aristocracy]

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Time passes slowly for Branwen, mere seconds seem like hours, everything appearing to her as happening in slow motion. She turns her head slowly, and gazes upon her lover. Suddenly, she becomes aware of what he's doing, and what effect the spell will have on him. She raises a hand, attempting to stop him, calling his name "L...Lars! NO! Lars' eyes are fixed above and he seems to be in a meditative trance, unable to respond.


The spell completed, the deed done, the incredible light fades away, he has traded his life force for hers. Near death, the giant man falls to his knees, and colapses in a heap on the grass laying next to her. He takes her hand gently, and squeezes it. "I love you"

He slowly regains enough strength to crawl to Branwen's side, he places his hand on her stomach and feels a small kick...wispers her name weakly, Branwen... I love you. They both watch the once glorious manor now fully involved with fire, the sound is as a snalring, growling beast in the final thows of death. Branwen musters enough strength and throws up a gate to her best friend Wynn's "you need medical help" she tells him.. They lean back into the gate holding eachother, finally reaching safe ground..

[Wynn]

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Outside sitting and watching the stars when she notices a bright light. Comming out of the light was Lars and Branwen falling threw the gate. "Ohh my goodness what has happen," she snapps her fingers for the farm hands help carry them inside. She walks up to her friends while we waiting for the farm hands to get them she looks down at them takes their arms and checks their pulses " Weak but they will make it." She had so many questions going threw her head as she wondered what happen. The farm hands take them inside and place them in the guest room. She walks over to Branwen and feels her belly. She waits to feel a kick or some type of movement. She feels a slight kick and she waits for the other kick.She has known for some times she is pregnat with twins but has not told her friend due to the stress she was already under she felt if she cared for the one she knew about the other would be safe. "Thank goodness Bran hello." she looks down at her friend. Branwen looks up to her with her eyes slightly open. "It is ok you and lars are both safe I will look after both of you. Well all four of you. SHe was not sure if branwen heard the four part but somehow after she became well she knew she needed to tell her of the twins. She looks to the maid and tells her " Sit with them tonight and come and get me if anything happens or they need me. Let me know if they wake."
She leaves a crack in the door so that during the night she could look in on them and not disturb them. She walks down the stairway and thinks "They are really lucky I am not sure what happen but all will be told in due time"
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What you do today is important because you are exchanging a day of your life for it.
-- Anonymous