He could never depart without first making a stop in Estolad.

The little junction village held a post of surprising significance in Avénnian's life. Blue eyes that were most often hard and icy before his ascent looked upon the village softly today. His frosty hair fell across his shoulders and partially down his back, causing most of the village's residents to see him as a stranger. They did not recognize the Avénnian that had come on numerous occassions to excorsize spirits and banish demonic beings.

Of course, his attire attributed to this fact as well. Rather than the white-and-gold armor that had been customary for the elf and former guardian, he donned naught but a white unbuttoned tunic and loose, flowing white pants. Hard boots did not cover his feet, instead he wore straw sandals. His holy blade did not hang from his side, which may have been the prospect that set him most apart from his former self in the eyes of others. Even on the inside Avénnian harbored an altered persona, though not by far a margin from the previous.

The wooden door creaked as Avénnian entered into the inn, peering around with a faint smile swept over his lips. There were a few serving girls moving about, yet no sign of the innkeep. There were few about in the lobby area, an elderly man and a few other wayfarers. He smiled at them as he passed, holding up a hand as a polite guesture of greeting. One of the serving girls eyed him curiously, and Avénnian smiled at her. She blushed, quickly making her way to the back.

He sighed and took a seat at a small table, setting his arms across the wood and leaning forward with his fingers intertwined. His hopes had been to see the innkeep, but he would wait patiently until the man arrived. The two of them were well-acquainted, what with Avénnian having brought a crew of clerics some time ago in order to exorcize a murderous demon. The job had been a nasty one, for the demon was fierce and bloodthirsty.

An image of Yumi passed through his mind, and he smiled. Just now he found himself wondering where she could possibly be. If he knew, he would make his way to her right at that moment. He felt a fool for never telling her how he truly felt, and now it was likely too late. What tormented him was the horrid thought that she may have forgotten about him. Not just her, but all of the others. Have you forgotten me? It wasn't as if he could blame them if they had.

Avénnian took a deep breath and closed his eyes. His keen ears picked up on the sound of a giggling serving girl being toyed with by one of the visitors. The world seemed a stranger to him now. When would he again have the chance to laugh with a friend? He exhaled and opened his eyes as someone approached his table.

"Would you like something to drink?" The serving girl asked.

He smiled and looked up at her. "Water will do."

She nodded, and turned to fetch the water at his request. Avénnian leaned back in his chair, fingers still intertwined, and cast his gaze to the ceiling. Times have changed. Though he was thoroughly looking forward to a nice evening of peace and quiet coupled with a chat about old times with the innkeep, his plans were tossed aside the moment he heard a glass crash against the wooden floor.

He turned his head, watching as one of the inn's visitors turned into a monstrous wolf-demon. The hair on its flesh grew forth and the flesh on its hands were split by long claws. Once the transformation was complete, it was nearly as tall as the ceiling with blood red fur, massive fangs and dripping saliva. Within one of its massive claws it held the wrist of the serving girl. Avénnian sighed, and slowly rose from his chair. The demon seemed to sense him in some fashion, and turned to lock eyes with the elf. Avénnian rolled his head from side to side, popping his neck, and cast a glance at the spilled liquid on the ground.

"Well, that is a waste." His cool gaze was cast upwards again at the demon. "I hate to inconvenience you, but I will have to ask that you let go of that young lady."

Once again he found himself in the village of Estolad.

Time and time again, whenever he visits this rural village, his demon instincts are repressed. It was uncanny to him, as any other settlement he could not care less about, but this one was special, at least to him. It was not pity or even a likeness, it was a simple show of respect for what they did for him long, long ago... which seemed like ages to him now, but he kept his personal vow, nonetheless.

But, his vow didn't restrict him from using the village as a resource for his quests. Indeed, many adventurers and nomads traveled through this old town, some for rest or supplies, others for drinks or dames, but in any case, someone always had a story, rumor, or legend to tell, and that's what Valafar searched for. It was not an easy task, even with his charm, but it was a necessary step to a process that could uncover what he truly yearned for.

It was a late afternoon after a day of mild weather, and Valafar came disguised in his usual blue, semi-silky noble attire with shiny gold trim and fancy, inessential eyeglasses (he simply liked how they looked on him) that sat on the ridge of his nose. He headed toward the Kaima Inn, his usual place to "mingle" with anyone willing to share a tale.

He brushed his ivory white hair back, trying to make himself look presentable before opening the creaky, weathered door and stepping into the inn. Taking a quick gaze around the establishment with his red eyes, he counted that there were few occupants and even fewer waitresses. His eyes met with one of the female servers, and he quickly flashed a charming smile before sitting at a table against a wall and the girl followed him, asking if he would like a drink.

"Mead would be lovely, my dear." Valafar said in a pleasant and gentlemanly tone.

The waitress nodded, smiled in a flattered manner and walked off to carry out his order. She was relatively young compared to the other servants, and it reminded him of his own aide, young Arelia, wondering if she was faring well in his absence. The girl was usually silent unless spoken to... and Valafar didn't speak much, but that was a sign that she was disciplined, something he adored greatly. However, he often thought what was going through her mind half the time... perhaps he'll ask the next time they meet.

A crash of glass, the sound of screaming, the growling of an unholy beast... no, it wasn't himself, and he double-checked his body just to be sure he wasn't accidentally reverting back to his true form. Instead, to Valafar's surprise, there was another demon inside the tavern, but this one had little to no intelligence, ruled by his own bloodthirst as his clawed hand gripped the wrist of the same girl that was waiting on Valafar. And... what was that spilled on the ground? Was that his mead? Now he was positively annoyed at this idiotic beast.

He sighed, but before he could act, someone else decided to step in to face the red-haired wolf demon... a white-haired, well-mannered and well-dressed elf with striking blue eyes. As Valafar watched the scene unfold, the elf's appearance as a whole seemed so familiar to the demon, but he could not quite place where he might have seen him before, but it must've been important in some way.

In the end, Valafar decided not to step in, yet, while the elf demanded for the snarling wolf demon to release the poor girl who was now sobbing in horror. The disguised balrog could've ended the lesser demon's life in a moment, but he wanted to see what the heroic elf would do, for perhaps it would answer his questions about the man.

The demon snarled in response, and Avénnian sighed once again. It did not even speak, so it must have been devoid of any notable intelligence. The elf eyed the demon curiously, at the same time keeping his eyes on the girl. How does a demon such as this come across the ability to pose as a human? In this cleric's experiences, demons that could appear as normal people were the most dangerous of all. Such demons usually harbored a high level of intelligence as well, which this particular one seemed to lack.

He did not expect the demon to comply, though he always asked as a courtesy to spare a death. Even if it was a demon, it had a choice, no matter the unlikelihood that it would choose the smart way out. For the first time Avénnian found himself in longing of the perquisites that came along with being a guardian. Though he had been more powerful in that day, he was not forced to fight quite so much, given that most evils were not willing to engage in battle with such a powerful holy being.

However, those days were gone, and he was back to picking them off one by one.

Now the demon chose to act, lifting the girl into the air and extending a long black tongue from its mouth toward her face. The serving girl's eyes were absolutely filled with terror, which called for quick action on Avénnian's part. With haste he held a hand in the air, and his entire body began to glow with a holy aura. His eyes were narrowed dangerously as those irises became icy once again. A ball of white light formed in his hand, and his thin lips parted to speak the incantation to a powerful spell.

"Námo." It was but a single word, spoken in the tongue of his own race; Quenya. Bright rays of light extended in all directions from his hand like a mini sun of holiness. The light was blinding and filled the entire area as the powerful "Judgement" spell was cast. It was the best course of action for the situation, used in order to quickly harm the demon, as the spell would negatively effect anything evil within the area.

When the light dissipated, Avénnian made his move. He jumped into the air, soaring over another table, and landed next to the girl. The impact as his feet hit the ground caused his hair to fall over his shoulders, now cascading over his chest. The demon was now lying on the ground, but Avénnian's attention was focused onto the girl. His eyes noted a small line of blood on her wrist, but it was a small wound that was beginning to heal due to the other effects of his spell. He held a hand out to her and pulled her into his arms.

"You should go now." He said, tossing in a faint smile. She said nothing, only turning to run out of the room. Her footsteps were heavy and loud against the wooden floor, and she threw the door open as she left the inn. Avénnian turned and took a step back, his eyes scanning the room. Once again he spoke, though a different word escaped his lips.

"Tuuva." This spell was different, used to detect any other nearby evils. To his surprise, Avénnian's senses picked up on two beings; the demon on the ground and another man sitting quietly at a table. His frosty gaze was immediately cast to the other man; white hair and elaborate clothing that were rather becoming to him. The man had simply observed the events taking place, so Avénnian could not be certain if he was a threat. As he pondered, the others in the lobby were now beginning to make their exits as well, which was perfect timing.

"Am I to assume that you are an affiliate of this miserable demon?" Avénnian nonchalantly waved a hand at the wolf-demon now rising to its knees with a low, angry growl.

[OOC: You can control the demon NPC if you like. It's not dead yet.]

Much to his expectations, the inane wolf demon did not comply to the elf's commands. It was somewhat unusual as demons that can transform into humans are typically intelligent, much like Valafar himself, but this one was different. Perhaps the beast is some type of lycanthrope-demon breed, consumed by its feral personality so there was no room for intelligent thought. Though rare, it was perhaps the most likely case.

As the creature made its move, the elf made his, and an astounding move it was. His body glowed with a bright holy aura, a white ball of light forming in the palm of his hand, and as he spoke the Quenya word, "Námo." Valafar knew exactly what the elf was doing, and he only braced himself for the torment to follow. Rays of bright light exploded outward from the holy ball, sending the wolf demon to the ground, and the wound in Valafar's shoulder that he had received just weeks ago throbbed with enormous pain, and his body felt like it was on fire, but his timely preparation prevented him from falling over, groveling in ache, and the spell soon passed, leaving the pulsing burn that followed.

The demon breathed heavily, his vision blurring before him, his hands and feet were numb and prickly as if their blood circulation has been cut. He can't remember that last time he was on the receiving end of that spell, but he did remember the feeling, and it was not pleasant. The elf was strong, very strong, but had his magic prowess been any stronger, it would've meant much worse than an immense burning affliction to Valafar. However, this raised his curiosity even more to who this elf really is.

His vision returned, and he looked around the tavern again, the wolf demon laid on the ground showing no signs of life, the girl that was in its claws ran out of the inn unharmed, and it seemed like people were starting to leave when the elf spoke another Quenya word, "Tuuva." Here we go, Valafar thought.

The holy warrior immediately noticed the disguised demon, and proceeded to speak to him in an easygoing manner with his hand waving at the wolf demon, "Am I to assume that you are an affiliate of this miserable demon?" The question made Valafar laugh in a mocking yet charming way, but before he could answer, the wolf demon recuperated from the attack given by the elf, and it was obviously very agitated, wanting the blood of the one who harmed him.

It was a hasty decision, but the balrog stood, spoke a quick demonic incantation, "Thup." And snapped the fingers in his right hand, and a whip with many thongs, fabricated of fire, conjured in the same hand, and with a quick flick of the wrist, the whip struck the wolf demon across the chest with a resounding snap, searing its hair into nothingness and violently burning its skin. It seemed to anger the beast even more but Valafar brought the whip back and struck again, this time across its gruesome face, and it howled in anguish, turning its back to the more powerful demon, and the whip struck once again, this time across its back, the force of the blow sending it to its knees, unable to fight back.

The whip disappeared from the balrog's hand, an a dark smile stretched across his face. It should have been obvious at that point he wanted to make the other demon suffer for its impracticality, as the lesser demon was now blind from the lash across its face. Valafar turned to the elf, his dark smile reverting to a charming one as he spoke modestly, "I do hope that answers your question, good sir. I would never find myself allies or even controlling a pitiful creature such as that. He has paid the price for his imbecilic ways, I've made sure of that." He sat back into his chair, and casually motioned towards the lesser demon then to the chair across the table in front of him, "You should be the one end its misery. Then come, join me for a drink, good sir, I'd be most honored."

He was not sure what to think as the man laughed, and proceeded to stand. It was too hasty a move for Avénnian, and as a word was spoken the elf's body tensed as he prepared to defend himself from the fiery cords taking shape. His hands began to glow with white light in order to counter the whip of fire that he expected to be attacked with. The flaming whip lashed out with a fiery scream...

...and struck the demon.

The sound was horrid as the flames licked at hair and flesh. The demon proceeded to lash the demon across the chest in a brutal display, thus confirming Avénnian's sense of evil within the man. It was not a pleasing demonstration to Avénnian, rather quite the opposite. The cleric felt that only a man of a malicious disposition could ever find pleasure in the anguish of others. The brutal beating continued as the wolf-demon took a devastating blow to its face and eyes, then once more to the back. Avénnian would have been glad to stop things just then, but in his good fortune the man discontinued on his own accord.

Avénnian did not return the smile, only listening to the man's words as he watched the demon with pitiful eyes. It was leaning with a hand against the wall, one hand covered its now blinded eyes. The elf was not keen on such cruelty, and his face was saddened by what had taken place. He blinked and looked back to his fire-slinging acquaintance. "A simple 'no' would have sufficed. There is no honor in misery borne of cruelty." He looked back to the pained demon, and once again his hands began to glow with holy magic. He slowly walked forward, raising his arms with closed eyes.

"You have suffered, and now I will end your pain." His hands were growing brighter by the moment, but the demon remained still, panting breathlessly from the beating. Avénnian's hands lingered in front of the demon as he opened his eyes. "All must be punished for their sins, yet your mind is lost and you will always remain under the misguidance of evil. Today, your numbered days have been counted." With that Avénnian put his hands to the demon's back, and it howled out with a terrible cry as the elf pulsed holy magic through its body and burned it with holy fire using his sacred hand. Avénnian soon removed his touch, and the demon fell limply to the ground, a black tongue hanging loosely from its parted maw. Blue pools resonated with sadness as the cleric looked upon the dead body.

"May your soul rest in peace, and I pray that you return to this world with a sound mind directed under holiness." He clapped his hands together, closing his eyes and bowing his head for a moment before turning to look at the demon-beater. Avénnian made his way over to the table, slowly pulling out the chair and having a seat.

"Well, I suppose I can join you. I've met with others under stranger circumstances." Something about the man disturbed him, but his job was not to turn his head from evil, but rather to face it. He would never pass up the opportunity to make a difference in another's life, though some were much harder cases than others.

Avénnian turned and cast a glance back at the bar, and caught sight of a serving girl hiding under a table. He smiled then, though he was not happy on the inside. "Young one, the danger is gone. I will dispose of the body soon enough, I assure you. Might we enjoy a drink for now?" He sniffed the air a bit, rustled slightly by the faint smell of burned flesh. The girl nodded, and slowly crawled to her feet to make her way to them. Her hands were shaking as she looked at Valafar with fear in her eyes.

"I will have water, and... perhaps with a pinch of lemon?" Avénnian smiled pleasantly at her, and she nodded, casting an anxious glance at Valafar to await his order. Her brown locks were frayed about from her desperate attempt to escape the calamity, but she was doing her best to compose herself. Avénnian sat back in his seat, casting a cold glance at the man across from him.

The "stranger circumstances" comment made by the elf as he sat down before Valafar made him emit a sincere chuckle. The demon's interest in the holy warrior was growing by the minute, still wondering who he is exactly... or perhaps who he was, depending on the circumstances. His powers were great, maybe too great for Valafar to take on, but it was all the more reason to get to know him.

The elf kindly called to a cowering server girl, trying to comfort her and hoped she would take their drink orders. The girl was somewhat reluctant, mainly because of Valafar, but she complied, struggling to stay calm as the elf ordered his simple drink. She looked at the balrog with worry in her eyes and he spoke in a charming, courteous voice while a gracious smile was painted on his face, "I'll have a mead, thank you. And please, wipe your uneasiness clean, my dear. I swear to you that no more ghastly events will take place today."

The waitress' demeanor was slightly lifted from his words, and with a nod, she turned around and walked off to acquire the drinks they ordered. Valafar's attention turned to the gentleman in front of him, pushing up his spectacles with a finger as his red eyes rested upon him. The smell of charred flesh reached his nose... a wonderful smell reminding him of his younger days... before his punishment... but he was dense back then, much like the wolf demon that was just executed, and now he realized the mistake he made. He wasn't subtle.

For a few moments, there was a silence between the two men of opposite design. The quietness was a little awkward, but Valafar continued to smile, and eventually broke the peace, "I can tell you are a man of wisdom, good sir. That is favorable, as the world needs more wisdom in this age, especially the gods." His hand waved in the air, as if to generalize the direction of where the gods were, "They're not very wise, the gods are, because if you think about it, they're fighting over their own petty views on the universe. It's pretty bleak, if you ask me."

At this time the female server returned with their drinks and Valafar was content, "Ah, at last. Thank you, miss, you are most kind." He said before taking a swig of the mead that had a finely sweet taste as he swirled it within his mouth. He gulp the liquid down his throat and returned to the elf, "So please, good sir, tell me about yourself. Where do you hail from? Do you have a family? What duties are you finding yourself carrying out these days? I'm interested to know."

(OOC: Sorry if it's a little short, kinda had writer's block. :/)

(OOC: Pfft! It's good, Mr. New Member of the Month! :w00t:)

A smile settled upon Avénnian's lips as his company spoke of the gods and their views. Avénnian chose not to add his opinion, for he was far too acquainted with the gods the man spoke of not to issue a biased opinion. He wondered exactly what views the man spoke of, and what fight. It may have been pertained to Raku's attempt to take over the moon, though Avénnian personally saw that as a necessary fight, and the only foolish god involved in the matter being the god of darkness himself.

He smiled merrily as the serving girl brought out his water. She even set down a small saucer with three lemon slices on it. "Indeed." He said in concordance with his acquaintance. "When one has been traveling for as long as I, it is always nice to quench an undying thirst." He picked up a lemon and licked it subtly, then his expression clearly showed his content.

As the other ate and drank, Avénnian busied himself with pinching the lemon to drip the juice into his water. Once he had done so with all three, he looked up at the other man as he spoke while taking a careful sip. Avénnian smiled again, wondering just why this man was "interested" in him. Perhaps he intends to kill me. Avénnian chuckled at the thought, and waved a hand.

"You ask such a general question." He grinned. "I could go on for days, but I digress." He set the glass down, but kept it gripped between his long, nimble fingers. "I hail from many places, as my life has been long, though my birthplace is Yomenïampa." Avénnian cast him a curious glance. "I'm sure you've heard of it." He brought the glass to his lips and took another sip, shaking his head lightly after he gulped down the lemon-water. "I was raised in the Sanctuary of Angels for a time, living with my mother and father, as my father was a priest serving under the goddess of life.

"In time, I became a servant under the goddess as well. I have served as a cleric until this day, and will continue to do so until my last breath." He leaned forward on the table. "Which may come sooner than I like." His face was very serious for a moment, but he soon laughed and sat back in his chair, taking another sip of water. He cast a sly glance at his acquaintance.

"My name, sir, is Avénnian Ashwood, and that is my story in a nutshell. Would you like to share yours?"

Valafar took small sips from his mead as he listened intently to the man sitting across the table, telling a short life story about himself. The more he spoke, the more the demon became intrigued by him. Raised in the Sanctuary of the Angels? His father was a priest under Lothlómendil, and he too serves under her as a cleric? That would explain the holy powers he possessed, but they were... elevated, somehow. Almost as if he was more than just a cleric...

Avénnian Ashwood. The name rung in the balrog's head like bells in a clock tower, and the surprise made him spit out some of his mead in a spray. This entire time he was in the presence of the former Guardian of Holiness himself! Valafar had thought he disappeared from the face of Arda itself after he abandoned his position, but it was obviously otherwise. What baffled him even further was the odds of meeting someone like him in a place like this.

Regaining his composure after the impressive display of mist that spewed out of his mouth, Valafar wiped his mouth off with a nearby cloth and fixed his spectacles, showing a friendly smile afterwards. He made it apparent he heard of Avénnian's reputation, but he didn't want too much tension coming between them, not for now at least. And so he proceeded to tell him about himself, "As you may have already guessed, I am a demon, or, to be more specific, a Valarauko, in your language." His red eyes blinked, looking down at the mead before looking back at Avénnian, "I was created by Irm'kshrauko during the first coming of the demons, but I was... very bold and disobeyed him... perhaps it was because of my youth and the amount of power I wielded at the time, but now I see it was a fair decision."

Pausing, he found it strange revealing this information to someone... especially a cleric of holy background, but he hasn't talked to anyone about this for a very, very long time. It was refreshing, in a way, like removing weights off of his shoulders. He continued, "I was very reckless at first, killing anyone and everyone, having that insatiable bloodlust that most demons have... but I was causing too much turmoil, and I was punished, sentenced to solitary imprisonment indefinitely. And so it was for many... centuries... millennia... I'm not quite sure. I was eventually set free, of course, and I enjoyed freedom once again, returning to my habits before I was confined. And once again I was opposed... " He stopped, realizing he's spoken so much already, and he laughed, "But I've probably bored you long enough with my story. As for my name, well, I gained many names over the years, but in the end, however, I remain Valafar. And I must say in truth that it is a wonder to meet you, Sir Avénnian. I've heard great things about the Guardian of Holiness." Although holy figures rubbed him the wrong way, he still respected those with power... except for perhaps Lothlómendil herself.

(OOC: Sorry for holding this up. I'm currently short one laptop. <_<)

Avénnian blinked with wide eyes as mead shot from his company's mouth. Was it something I said? Luckily he managed to scoot back his chair enough to keep the substances from dotting his clothing. It would be a pain if his white clothes were stained. His face was wiped with confusion at his acquaintance's strange behavior, before it dawned on him why the man may have been a bit... surprised. My name, perhaps? Avénnian never thought much of it, as he had always been a bit different from the other former guardians in that he often mingled with others, even the lowest commoners. I suppose even I would be surprised to see myself after disappearing for a year.

The conversation continued on normally, or relatively so. Avénnian was a bit surprised himself, as he had not known the man to be a demon. He looked him over, wondering just what kind of demon he was. Still, elven ears perked up with interest at Valafar's story. On the surface it did not sound like much, but Avénnian knew better than to take the simplicity of the demon's words for the nature of his life. Even one such as himself could not imagine being imprisoned for so long. I believe that I would go crazy.

And perhaps he had.

He discontinued his story abruptly, though Avénnian felt that it had nothing to do with Valafar feeling that the story was boring. Some may have found it strange, but Avénnian enjoyed talking with others such as this Valafar. The elf himself had never been drawn to the ways of evil, so he constantly sought to understand the minds of those who lived in darkness. And just what is it that drives you to the darkness, Valafar? Though asking a question such as that now would be silly, as he now knew the man to be a demon.

"I have seen many days, my friend." Some also found it strange that Avénnian would address almost anyone as his "friend". "And hopefully many days more. I am not in such a rush to pass through life that I cannot take the time sit and listen to a friend tell a story." He laughed, taking another drink of his water. He looked down at it with gratefulness in his eyes, showing just how thirsty he really was. He set the cup down, then tapped a finger to his temple. "It is times like this in which a person makes memories." It was a wonder if there may have been an underlying message in the words. "But I see that you find my name familiar, as I'm sure I did not inform you of that." Avénnian laughed again, showing himself to be quite the joyful fellow.

"But those days are gone, sir." Avénnian's reluctance to dwell on the subject could not have been any more blatant. "I am curious, however... what are you about these days? One that has been through as much as yourself, I wonder what brings you to Estolad. Surely not the incredible sights." He smiled.

(OOC: One can understand the computer shortage. ^_^)

'Those days are gone?' That must explain his absence until now, and his decrease in power compared to an actual Guardian. I wonder what circumstance caused him to drop his position. Though Valafar thought about it, he could feel the unwillingness radiating off of Avénnian about the subject. Indeed, it was a difficult subject for him, just as the past was for the demon. Besides the fact that they were on opposite sides of the spectrum, they were perhaps not so different.

When the holy elf asked of what Valafar was doing these days, he had to think for a moment, careful of what he had to say, as the reason of his activity these days would not sound so pleasant to the cleric. After his moment of deduction, he spoke, "Well, these days I am a collector of artifacts and treasures. I often come to Estolad to see if I can gather information of such." He took a sip from his mead before continuing, "Like I said before, most demons have bloodlust, but mine has... subsided. I'm taking the more subtle approach to my existence." In reality, it was the truth, even if some details were left out. He felt that there was no real need to lie to his new acquaintance, he seemed decent enough.

"This village," he resumed, looking out of a window that sat on a far wall, "gives me some serenity as well. Long ago its inhabitants took me in, nursed me back to health after I was gravely injured when I was opposed the second time for my brash behavior. They did not care who I was or how I was hurt, they simply had too much hospitality in their souls." He sighed, looking down at his mug noticing it was half gone before taking another sip, "And ever since, this place has held a special meaning to me. It is the only delicacy I'll ever admit to."

It was only as of late that Valafar has been questioning his own subsistence. For near his entire life he has believed that he and other demons were a source of pure power and destruction with no room for empathy, remorse, or conscience... they were all the bane of Arda. These beliefs were being shaken to the core not by just Estolad, but by other affairs as well, one being his own half-demon daughter who still defies him to this very day, and, despite being of demon blood, continues to fight the good fight just like Avénnian. It puzzles Valafar to how she can have so much constancy.

"Do you have any loved ones, Sir Avénnian?" He asked without much warning, "I know of your parents, but surely you must have a lover or soulmate? Perhaps children?" The demon finally looked into the elf's blue eyes before saying in some reserve, "I... have a daughter. But we are far too estranged to know one another at a personal level. Perhaps it's because I killed her mother... I'm not too sure." His eyes were glazed in thought before focusing on Avénnian again, his mouth emitting another question, "But may I also ask what your plans are for the future? Hm?"

Avénnian's countenance retained a faint smile as Valafar spoke of Estolad's hospitality. Just like them. He thought. Perhaps the world isn't spiraling into darkness so quickly as i thought. It was a relieving thought to someone such as himself, and he subsequently began to question Valafar's nature as well, especially after his talk of collecting "artifacts and treasures". Avénnian had no right to deny the truth of Valafar's words, but they left him quite curious. However, he remained silent for the time being. Just what kind of information, dear Valafar? Perhaps it was time to play detective.

The question about loved ones was sudden to Avénnian, and he failed to hide the look of surprise on his face. Even though he was sure Valafar could not have known, they had somehow circled around to that subject again. His mind also strayed once more as Valafar mentioned killing his daughter's mother. That statement, stated so casually, took the elf by surprise as well. Just what kind of person are you, Valafar? You are much worse than you seem. Such words would never actually escape his lips, though.

Feeling that it would be pointless to evade the truth, Avénnian sighed and leaned back in his chair. He was not quite up to beating around the bush. In the long run, it's much easier to simply tell the truth of matters. He looked at Valafar coolly.

"As far as loved ones go, I love many. However, in the sense of the word that you use... yes, there is someone that could be considered... my lover." The subject nipped at his nerves, and cast his glance to the table, gripping the cup with his fingers though not moving it. "Or rather, she was." He looked up to Valafar, unable to conceal the grief in his eyes. "She was a beautiful woman... a human, and a very devout servant of the goddess of life. Celesté, she was the reason why I..." He could feel the rising grief, and he couldn't bear to speak of it any longer, as the pain accompanying the words were too much for him right now. Not now, on this peaceful day. Hey, for Avénnian, fighting only one demon so far in the day was still peaceful.

He closed his eyes and sighed, shaking his head calmly and looking back up to Valafar with a smile. "It is no matter, for we can no longer be. She was tainted by demonic blood, and now roams somewhere unknown to myself with the demon who took her from me." He spoke so plainly, though his tongue was like a dagger as he stabbed at the words. She will not have me, I failed to save her. "As for children, I... I have none." It wasn't entirely a lie, though not the entire truth either.

"I have no plans for the future." The words came bursting out of him even to his own surprise, though he could not deny their truth. His eyes glanced up at the ceiling. "At least, I have no specifics. I simply intend to continue my work as a cleric." His eyes looked ominously down again at the table. "Yes, I will continue my work, may the goddess help me..." There seemed to be an uncertainty about him, though his eyes still portrayed the same fierce determination of the old days. No, rather something even more fierce. Something dangerous, as his penetrating gaze at that moment seemed to challenge the universe itself to step in his way. In spite of an obvious sadness, there was clearly a drive behind his actions.

Shaking unwelcome thoughts from his mind, Avénnian looked to Valafar curiously. His entire visage was changed, showing his amazing ability to put away disparaging thoughts to the back of his mind. That is what has kept my sanity through these years... after the things I've seen. He leaned forward on the table, laying his arms across the wood and intertwining his fingers. He spoke in a low voice, as if to keep others from hearing.

"Tell me, Valafar, as my curiosity runs deep." He smiled. "Just what kind of treasures and artifacts do you seek? I find it difficult to believe that a shapeshifting demon of your nature and with your past simply passes his time by... collecting." The elf arched an eyebrow. "Maybe it's just me, but you seem to have a drive that would not be satisfied simply by the lifestyle that you have so quaintly described. Bloodlust or no, you are a demon."

Avénnian quickly sat back and chuckled. "I am only kidding, it is not my business to know..." He left his words at that, stating them in such a tone that clearly indicated the opposite. His eyes casting a glance as sly as ever to the demon across the table, he picked up his glass and took a sip.

The body language Avénnian radiated almost pleased Valafar. He always enjoyed making people squirm, seeing how they would react to his actions and sayings. Were they really all that terrible? Some non-demons were just as spiteful as he was, most of them human, especially rulers, so he wondered why people, including the ex-Guardian, would react to his actions in such a fidgety way. Maybe nobody will ever be "use" to it.

And as the cleric told the demon of his love life, it was an incredibly tasty morsel of information. The tone in his voice, the look of gloom in his eyes as he spoke, it was exciting. Was this woman the reason he became a Guardian, or the reason he abandoned the position? He could only wonder as he explained further with a blank smile, telling of his lover's taint of demonic blood, and this fact surprised Valafar. There were very few demons who could taint the blood of someone so faithful to holiness, not even he can successfully turn someone such as Avénnian's beloved; the demon in question must be vastly powerful, enough to perhaps rival a Guardian, which is possibly evident as the elf would've slain the villain already.

The demon fiddled with his mug of mead before drinking the last of it, realizing how tough his acquaintance's life must've been up until now, yet he persists in displaying a mannerly and humble appearance. Such is the ways of a holy cleric, Valafar thought, knowing his battles against evil and the like are never ceasing, its a constant struggle, yet to maintain focus, one must keep a constant state of mind, or go mad. Maybe it was the demon's excuse on why he did not go insane after all those centuries of imprisonment: the thought of revenge.

The cleric asked of the demon's interest in artifacts, obviously curious of it and it was understandable as Valafar barely commented on the subject before, giving little detail, and the fact that he was a demon. And as the elf tried to pass it off as a playful question, the balrog laughed with him, responding, "Of course it is your business to know, you are a holy cleric, I am a baneful demon, it is your duty to know what I am up to." And this was entirely true whether either of them wanted to acknowledge it or not.

Once again, Valafar thought of how to approach the matter, whether to tell him outright, or to try and play with words. It was possible that it has gone far enough, and it was time to "spill the beans" as it were, despite the consequences that may follow. If this boils down to a confrontation, so be it, the demon would not enjoy himself any more than to fight someone as worthy as a former Guardian. He began to speak in a subtle manner, keeping the friendly tone, "Truth be told, sir Avénnian, I am searching for pieces of a lost artifact that is rumored to have been created by the One God, Ilúvatar, when he created this world. As far as I am able to gather, when the artifact is whole, it gives the holder the ability to wield the Secret Fire. If this is true... then it can uncreate the gods, relieving this world of their spiteful ways." He truly believed in this, and felt that the world would be much better off without their influence.

"And so, now that you know of my secret, I'm afraid it's only fair that you'll have to divulge on your own." He pushed his spectacles up with one finger, a grin forming on his lips, "Please tell me why you decided to renounce your Guardian position. Was it because of your beloved? Or maybe that child you cannot call your own?" He knew Avénnian did not reveal such details, but Valafar could tell of his situation, simply from his speech and body language as he spoke of children. The demon wouldn't be surprised if he was wrong, but something in his gut told him that he wasn't.