"The First Step" (Eothan)

“The first step”

“That ever sacred crest, the symbol of fear and anguish”

It was a cold night in Stormwind city, one misplaced in the flurry of warm spring days and mild nights. The bell tower chimed as midnight arrived, throwing a wave of sound throughout an otherwise silent, lifeless city. At the foot of the steps stood a lone hooded figure. His eyes lit up in amber shine briefly as he drew smoke from his cigarette, the last he would have this evening. He smirked very slightly as he exhaled the smoke into the darkness.

He stepped forward, throwing his only source of light to the ground. His name was Vanith Caan and he was fond of darkness. As he stepped into a tunnel leading away from the Cathedral he clipped his long coat around him, he was not fond of the cold that had accompanied his beloved night.

His pace quickened as he patted his thighs, ensuring his daggers remained in place. Vanith had arrived in Stormwind with two goals firmly rooted in his mind. He would destroy every trace of Ledgic Kaden Caan and from the ashes of that victory he would revive his clan. It had taken a long time to gather all the information to ensure his victory; he had spent close to a year observing Ledgic and his employees. He had escaped the city with the arrival of Iriden, only to return to hear of his demise.

He would not fail where Iriden had; he would not die a dog’s death against a single barking runt. Vanith came to a sudden halt and took a left turn, walking through a small building that served as a tunnel to another alleyway. As he stepped out into the night again, his lips twisted into a small smirk.

The time he had spent observing was not wasted, he knew how to get Ledgic to crawl out of whatever hole he was hiding in. Ledgic was not like most Caans, Ledgic had a weak heart. Vanith silently walked towards a house sat at the end of the alleyway, a dimly lit house that contained a man he had observed plenty.

Vanith lifted a gloved right hand, bringing it to his teeth and yanked the glove from it. He pointed the hand at one of the many doors that stood between him and victory as the glove slipped from between his teeth and slapped against the cobble floor beneath him.

He grinned widely as the hand ignited, fire pulsing around his palm and fingers, occasionally lashing out into the cold air. His arm was thrown back as a ball of fire flew from his palm and collided with the door, smashing it apart. As he walked forward with a confident stride he lowered his hood, walking through the small flames that flickered across the doorway and smirked at what awaited him.

Eothan simply stood at the foot of the stairs, his arms folded across his chest. He raised an eyebrow as he absorbed what stood in front of him.

“Is knocking going out of fashion?” he said in a cocky tone. Vanith simply took another step forward and clenched his fists at his sides. “Eothan Dawn, we’ve something to discuss” he said in a sinister tone.
“Yes, we do. I think you owe me a new door, friend” replied Eothan as he brought his arms down from his chest and slowly slid his hands into his pockets. He continued to observe and absorb Vanith, his mannerisms and facial expressions, the position of his limbs – all of these were important to Eothan.

“You’re Ledgic’s informant, yes?” said Vanith in the same tone. Unbeknownst to Eothan, Vanith was performing the same process as Eothan, even if he had the advantage of knowing what the man was capable of. Eothan was as calm as they came, his eyes showed no sign of fear. “You’re well informed” said Eothan as he took a confident step forward, a small smirk forming on his face.

“Unfortunately, I’m not one for divulging my business to strangers, especially those who blast my door down. Perhaps you should take your little fire addiction and piss off”

“Wha’s that? A cocky attitude, well ye ain’ changed since I last checked on ye. I’d watch yer tone, mate. We Caans ain’ fond o’ smart mouthed bastards” said Vanith, allowing his accent to flow freely. Eothan let out an agitated sigh and drew his hands from his pockets again.

“Just how many of you can I expect to crawl out of the wood work this time? I see you’ve the same attitude as most of them I’ve met, very sure of yourself. Unfortunately for you, I’m quite capable myself. If you’ve been watching me, you know full well that I’ll do what I can to sort my encounters quickly” said Eothan as he lifted his hands. Both hands began to collect fel energy, the flames flickering up his arms.

“’fraid yer outta luck there, Dawn. Ye couldn’ stand up t’Iriden, there ain’ no way ye can stand up t’me, I’m gonna feck ye up. Sorry but ye ain’ nothin’ but a way t’get Ledgic t’show ‘imself” said Vanith quietly as he darted forward with a fist aimed at Eothan’s gut.

Noticing the attack quite clearly, Eothan took a step to the side as Vanith’s fist shot past him. He swung an arm down toward the hand, taking a grip of it. Vanith growled loudly as the fel flame spread across his hand. He glared up at Eothan as his hand was slowly pulled upward. “You need to research a little better, I’ve had a few reasons to improve both mentally and physically of late, I think I’ll be holding my own in this little bout” said Eothan with a confident smirk.

The smirk disappeared as quickly as Vanith’s glare turned into a wide grin and with a single swift kick; Eothan’s legs were swept from beneath him, sending him plummeting to the floor. Vanith ripped his hand from Eothan’s grip and stomped viciously on his stomach.

Eothan grimaced heavily as he sent a shadow bolt from his palm, narrowly missing Vanith’s face. The grin continued to widen as Vanith relentlessly stomped on Eothan’s stomach and chest, as if he were trying to stomp him into the ground.

After a few moments Vanith took a step back, observing Eothan as he clutched an arm around his chest, the fel fading from both hands. Vanith knelt down, a hand lingering near Eothan’s face. “Now then, I reckon I’ve proven you’re nothing compared to me” said Vanith, his accent changing yet again. He chuckled as he gently tapped Eothan’s forehead with his fingers. Eothan simply grunted and made an attempt to get to his feet. Vanith reacted immediately, standing up and swinging a forceful foot into Eothan’s face. Eothan let out a sharp groan as he twisted, his head colliding with the nearby bookshelf.

Vanith stepped forward and continued to relentlessly beat upon Eothan, punches and kicks covered his entire body, the only sound louder was the crackling of the flames left from his entrance.

--

Eothan blinked and groaned loudly, looking around the room as his vision adjusted to normal. He looked down at himself, he was truly bloody and beaten, and he could feel the lingering pain of broken ribs. He lifted his head at the sound of footsteps, sighing deeply as Vanith knelt down in front of him.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I removed your shirt. You see, beating you into such a state isn’t enough for me; if you’d kept your mouth shut I might not have put you into quite the state you’ve found yourself in. Unfortunately, I’m going to have to leave a sign” muttered Vanith as he lifted his right hand, allowing the hand to engulf itself in flames once again. Eothan’s eyes widened as he watched the fire take shape across Vanith’s palm. Eothan’s cry pierced the night as Vanith slammed his hand against Eothan’s bare chest, burning and scarring some of the skin on the left side of his chest.

Eothan’s head dropped as Vanith stood up and chuckled. “You should be proud, you’re the first without our blood to receive that. You certainly won’t be the last”

Eothan glared up at Vanith as he turned and walked out of the house. With a slide and a thud, Eothan found himself on the cold floor, the searing pain of the Caan crest he had received eventually sapping the last of his strength, sending him into a painful state of unconsciousness.

Whoo, happy you posted this! It's one of my favourites recently.