Arming oneself.

[Lorenzo De'Eledain]

The door to the armory slowly forced itself ajar, as a boy came inside. He looked no older than 200 in Elven years, and he was certainly elven. Every physical feature he had about him was elven, from the glisten in his hair to the creamy colour of his skin. His ears were pointed, and his eyes were filled with innocence and wisdom.

What was not so Elven about him, was the way he dressed. He seemed to dress as if he were a Drow, or a Half-Elf, or something similarly looked down upon by the Elven race. He wore a red cape, though it looked more like a cloak, and a black tunic. Despite wearing the tunic, he wore black trousers.

"Hmm, so that old guy's tip off was right. There is a big load of weapons and armour here. Finally I can have a real sword for once," the Elven youth was very fed up with the ways of Elven society. His Father had always told him that choosing to wield a sword would always be pointless - "What do you think we are, worthless Drow?" - and that his fascination with weaponry would get him nowhere.

He didn't care. At last he found where the Elves kept their weapons and armour that were so coveted by legends. He picked up a wide sword, and grinned. "A Bastard Sword. Excellent. Just the weapon I've always wanted." After he properly sheathed it and attached it to his belt, he picked up an exceptionally well crafted buckler, "This too..." He attached it to his wrist. Then he moved over to the pile that belonged to the armour.

"Hmm...I want something light...not too heavy, that's never good for an Elf like me." Then he found the perfect thing. It was made of a substance he had never seen before, but it shone like water and felt very light, so he put it on under his Elven gol (cloak). He found leg protectors of the same substance, which he placed on his knees and thighs. "Now for the hardest part, head protection." He had always despised helmets. Not being able to gaze into your enemy's eyes as you dealt the final blow was always dishonorable, even when dealing with Drow.

"So what then..." He pondered and walked around the pile of armour for nearly an hour, not even remembering that the armory was not supposed to be entered except in war times. Then he found it. A seal made of the same shining substance, and placed it under his bandana.

"So they're not sacred weapons of justice, but it's a start..." muttered the youth. "We'll see how things go, Drow, when I'm coming for you!" He waved his sword about in the air, his eyes glistening even brighter, like a child caught in a fantasy world. "I am fully armed!"

[Surreal]

"What of boots?" a quiet, slightly lyrical voice drawled in the shadows of the room. A young woman stepped out, her pale aqua hair tied into loose braids which untangled at different lengths with the waist-length strands left out. Her bright aqua eyes looked at the stranger in the armory not with scorn as might be expected of the situation, but with curiosity and friendliness.

As more of Surreal's body came into view it could be seen that swords hung at her sides from a belt, the only loose article of clothing on her. She wore a tight, black shirt and black miniskirt, the likes of which left an expanse of pale stomach framing a midnight blue diamond set in her belly ring. Mesh covered the outfit, although it was sliced sideways, showing an expanse of her slim, strong stomach Even the most unobservant of people would not have missed Surreal's other weapons either, including a large black bow strapped to her back and two knives strapped to her bare arms.

Surreal continued moving forward, light glinting off her belly ring, earrings, and delicate nose drop, which were all of the same midnight blue diamond cut. A warrior true, Surreal wore neither vest nor shield to cover herself, and was thus amused at this young boy's need to look a warrior.

"I am Surreal SaDiablo," she introduced herself. "And who might you be, child?"

[Lorenzo De'Eledain]

"What of boots!" shouted the youth in agreement, completely absentmindedly. At first he believed that the voice he had heard was simply his subconscious reminding him of the boots, so he rushed around the piles of armour looking for a pair of protected boots. He already wore rather tough dragon skin boots that were a gift from his Uncle, but he wanted protective ones straight from the armoury.

Then it occured to him. His subconscious did not sound like a girl, nor did it sound like it was coming from...right behind him. There she was, an Elven woman who seemed to be an extremely capable fighter. She did look certainly intimidating - the same kind of intimidating that the youth was trying to pull off with this armour search.

"I am Surreal SaDiablo."

Where had he heard that name before? He was sure it was famous...or held some form of high position...but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Oh well, at least she wouldn't turn out to be some Dark Queen of the Drow...he thought.

That was when the youth realized that he had been staring at the Elf blankly, his mouth slightly open, seemingly in a daze. "Agh! Ha, hahaha, yes -" he stuttered, trying to redeem himself - "Sorry, yes, my name is Lorenzo De'Eledain. If I may ask, are you some kind of famous person? Because I swear I've heard your name before."

[Surreal]

Surreal shook her head, hair flowing over her shoulders. This youth was most definately amusing. First scrambling to take her advice to heart, and then the look on his face when he turned to her. His question, however, had been the reason for her action.

"I am not famous," she said soberly. Despite her serious attitude, Surreal's eyes still shone with good humor. "Perchance infamous in my days as an assassin, and perchance known for being Elven Archmage, but I am not famous."

[Lorenzo De'Eledain]

Lorenzo's slighly anxious attitude quickly turned to fear. Had it been anyone else - anyone - he might've been able to deal with them. He wasn't, after all, a complete idiot with the sword and he had a large bastard one right on his belt. But the ARCHMAGE!? What fate was it that of all the people, it had to be the ARCHMAGE!?

This inner battle was easily shown by the expression on Lorenzo's face. Quickly, however, it disappeared and he seemed calm enough. "I suppose I simply heard of your Archmage status. My uncle Leonello is a Mage, so I hear all about the Archmage and the rest of the Mages."

He looked about the armoury, and decided he may as well inquire the question he presumed that she would ask. "What...are you doing in the armory anyway? I didn't know mages used heavy weaponry like this." He motioned toward the pile of weapons and armour.

[Surreal]

Surreal laughed heartily and looked at her own weapons. "No, I am not here to stock up. As you can see, I am quite well off in the weapons department." She hooked her bangs behind her ear and turned her gaze on the weapons. "I was passing by to the dungeons, and I heard footsteps here, so I came to investigate. Habit, I fear."

Her eyes returned to meet Lorenzo's and a bright smile flashed on her pale features once more. "And what were you doing, child? Preparing to go sack the drow city?"

[Lorenzo De'Eledain]

That was hardly what he had expected. The Elven Armory, according to that geezer, was highly restricted except in times of war. He thought that being in there would mean complete punishment for sure - especially seeing how it was the Archmage that caught him.

"No," said Lorenzo, regaining his elven composure now that the fear of being executed by the Archmage was over, "I wasn't. I am here to get weaponry because I wish to travel across Adunasir. I've never been able to do it before because it was far too dangerous, and I never took my studies too seriously back when I was in Magic school. I was always far too more interested in the art of the sword."

A grin appeared across his face, "Though, of course, sacking the Drow city may come last on my journey...the very very last."

[Surreal]

Surreal's smile was one sided as she shook her head again. "Oh to be young and want to travel. By now I should've locked you in the dungeons, but I was just like you when I was younger." She picked up a large dagger and walked over to Lorenzo, offering to him.

"Always have a dagger in the small of your back," Surreal said, handing the blade as long as her forearm over. "Enemy guards are most often careless, and if you can sneak in a blade like this, then you will be a successful assassin yet."

[Lorenzo De'Eledain]

"Assassin, huh?" said Lorenzo, a little dreamily. He held the dagger in his hand, seemingly in another world entirely. He twirled the blade between his fingers, watching as it moved about. Back and forth, left and right... Then he came quickly back to reality.

"But isn't Assassination a Drow profession? Do we High Elves really have to lower ourselves to their level?" said Lorenzo, wondering if it was the proper thing to say or not.

[Surreal]

Surreal made a face as she thought about what Lorenzo said. "Then I suppose the Elven Archmage is the lowest of them all. I learned the craft when I was left for dead at the Roof of the World. Villagers took me in, made my bow for me, and taught me how to fight hand to hand before I could even start a magical fire."

She scrunched up her nose and looked at Lorenzo. "Nothing is specifically Drow or High Elf, young one. You choose your own path based on what you want or must do, and no bloodline can take that away from you."

[Lorenzo De'Eledain]

As Lorenzo listened to Surreal's story, he felt terribly confused. She was left for dead on her travels...this made Lorenzo worry. What if, on his travels, he came across a group of Drow who left him for dead? And as for bow making, he had always disliked bows in general. He found them to be as annoying as magic, mostly because he preferred close quarters combat above the rest.

But the most confusing thing of all was, he could fight hand-to-hand pretty well himself, and he couldn't even start a magical fire. When he wasn't nearly as young as the Archmage made him out to be.

"Well then...who knows. I'll keep this dagger in mind" - he said, placing the dagger under his gol - "but only if its really necessary to be sneaky about slaying the person or thing."

[Surreal]

Surreal looked at Lorenzo thoughtfully, staying silent as she scrutinized his face. "No, I was wrong," she said. "You are not of the assassin type. I can see it in your eyes-you dislike the way we fight. You are a warrior, an open fighter for all to see."

Surreal smiled then and took a step back. "Either path I respect greatly. Assassins are more feared for their stealth and cunning, but warriors are known for their bravery. I hope to hear your name on the lips of High Elves one day, Lorenzo. I know I will hear of your bravery in battle."

[Lorenzo De'Eledain]

"Maybe..." mumbled Lorenzo softly, thinking it over in his head. He had trained for many years with the geezer in the art of swordsmanship. Bravery perhaps he had, for he feared nothing that had come at him so far (except perhaps the thought of imprisonment and failing to follow his dreams).

Yet there was something in his mind that appeared. Training, battle, self-defense. It was all the art of taking lives...taking lives...his thoughts were about to go deeper, when suddenly he snapped out of it. "No, you will not get cold feet now!" He shouted to himself. "I will get out there and I will show bravery in battle!"

He nodded to Surreal, "Archmage, when I begin my journey, where do you think I should go first? It's a great big world out there, after all, and you've probably seen most of it."

[Surreal]

Surreal looked grave, but even when saddened, her eyes had a hint of a happy gleam in them. "Fight me and I will tell you." Surreal threw down her bow and arrows and all her knives. She drew her swords and twirled them between her hands. "You will learn something today," she stated, throwing the sword up and catching it in the center so her blood spilled over it and onto the ground. "Assassins may not be warriors, but we can fight just as well with sword."

She let the sword slide down, slicing her hand before she threw it to the side. Her hands was a great bleeding mess, in no way fit for battle. Without taking even a moment to look at her self-inflicted wound, Surreal jumped down and swung her feet quickly, intending to sweep Lorenzo's feet from under him.

[Lorenzo De'Eledain]

"Fight you?" shouted the Elf in shock, grasping towards his sword in a motion of self-defense. "But, Archmage, I'm not nearly ready enough for such a -" Too late. The Archmage had already grabbed her swords and swung towards him. Still in a passive state, Lorenzo lifted his buckler for protection.

But the swift hit never came.

Lorenzo opened his eyes to see the Archmage, having cut her arm badly. "Archmage..." spoke Lorenzo in a whisper, but then, very unexpectedly, Surreal fell to the floor, hoping to knock Lorenzo off his feet. Just at that moment, Lorenzo heard a familiar voice in his head...a memory.

"Lorenzo!", spoke the voice angrily. It was his uncle, Leonello. He thwacked him on the head, looking furious. "You must not let emotion get in the way of a challenge! Remember, think of nothing in battle. Even if the enemy be a Gargantua or an Innocent Puppy, if one should seek to kill you...you must do nothing but fight back, even if it seems impossible."

It was too late to dodge the Archmage's attack, and Lorenzo fell straight onto the cold floor. However, Lorenzo grabbed his weapon quickly from the sheath, readying himself for the next blow. "So I see," he mumbled, a late response to the Archmage's intimidating lesson.