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Night Eyes’ Introduction



A match struck in the darkness. A hand lifted it to a cigarette. Taking several deep puffs, the man shook out the flame. He sighed deep. "Damn it, he should be here by now..." Ian was never a patient man. He took another drag, and started pacing again. The room was a shroud of darkness. The building, a long sense abandoned hotel, was crunched in the crumbing section of New Haven...
Ian chuckled at the thought. "New Haven..." It was the hope for tomorrow, but almost a century after it was built it was no the home for the dregs of society. Ian paced the room they were using for a base. He paused and looked in the mirror. The last two months had taken there toll on Ian's once boyish features. His golden hair was streaked with dirt, as was his face. His graceful, pointed ears now had a few rings ornamenting from lobe to cartilage. The tattoo graced his face under his eye seemed duller then normal. Ian's overcoat was now tattered and torn towards the bottom. Looking at his cigarette in-between his slender fingers, his eye is pulled toward the signet ring on his middle finger. And thoughts of home well up.
Ian was born into a noble elven family, far from this hell the humans made. His days were spent in the last large forest of the earth, the Taiga. His family helped to regrow the dead forest. Pooling there magic, the Taiga now covers almost al of Russia. The land was given to the elven kingdom by the world...How thoughtful...giving us dead land.
Most of Russia was devastated by the World War Three, also known as the Last War...which was supposedly the last one ever. Ian doubted it. It had been 150 years sense it had started and only was 100 years gone. The governments of the world came together and built New Haven, a utopia of civilization and a place where everyone could be equal...
Bull shit...Ian thought to himself. He puffed his cigarette. He pulled off his coat, sweating. So much hotter here then home... That much was true. Ian grew up in the part of Russia that was known as Siberia. Now here, in Haven City, he was dying from the heat. They built the city at the exact point that the Equator and Prime Meridian meet. He pulled out a handkerchief, and wiped his brow. Looking into the mirror he pulled off his sunglasses.
His eyes resembled the night sky. They were pitch black, with twinkling stars. That is how he earned the name Iandrelow, Night Eyes in elven. All elves had such homage to nature on there bodies. Ian's mother had hair like the waves on a calm sea. And his father had skin like bark of the trees he loved.
This caused Night Eyes to sigh. He missed his home, but a good friend said he needed his help. “Where are you, Jonah?” He was the reason I am here. It had been a while sense his friend left him a note at Ian’s personal home. All it said was “Night Eyes, I need your help…meet me at New Haven, tell no one…It might take me a while, but you know the place.”
He pulled another deep drag. This was his last cigarette. He needed to enjoy is. Still had his pipe, but he doesn’t want to ruin it with such low grade smoke… He crushes out the cherry of the smoke, and sits back on the bed.
Jonah wasn’t like this. He was a dwarf. And from a good family. They were the only ones who refused to fight in WW3. They held themselves up in there mountains, offering solace to those who asked. No one attacked them, even though they didn’t use ‘modern’ weaponry. Iandrelow looked at the T-17 at his side. The latest type of pistol. He didn’t know how it worked, and Jonah gave him a hard time about it. “See this sword,” the dwarf would say, “I know exactly how it works. And this armor,” then he would move aside his tunic revealing a fine mesh of woven steel,” I know how this works.”
“But I don’t know how it is made.” Ian would reply. Then Jonah would laugh. That was the reason nobody ever tried to invade Switzerland. Ian could put his T-17, which was more powerful then any standard issue piece, point blank against that armor, fire it, and it would only leave a bruise. All dwarves had at least a shirt. And no outsiders knew how, or even what, the suits are made of.
“But most of us have such secretes…” Ian mumbled looking at his ring. It was made out of Transium. It allows elves to channel what meager magic the race has left into solidified form. Transium, unlike the dwarves armor, was reserved for the noble houses. Through the use of his ring, Night Eyes can create blades of energy. He needed more practice with it, unfortunately. He was young, even by human standards. Only 21 years of age. Elves used to have enormous life spans, elders living to almost 500 years old. Now they die at 250. The magic the used to cleanse the Taiga left them broken. Now they only had a meager spark left.
Iandrelow let out a short sharp laugh. They had been wandering homeless for the better part of a century, the elders dying from conditions of the road. Now they finally had a home to rest, and the elders are still passing before there time.
At least it will be nice to be with Jonah again… They had met at a diplomatic conference when he was a child. He was sitting in the children area. So was Jonah. He was the hosts son. Most of the diplomatic work in the world took place in Switzerland. There were both young, and they hit it off, becoming quick friends. They had kept in touch over the years, but had only met once or twice in person again. He wondered what changes the dwarf had gone through.
Sighing again, he looked at the clock. It was past seven at night. Time for some food. Ian stood up, and left the hotel room. Walking down the street he saw some elves dancing at the corner. Night Eyes shook his head. The elves outside the Taiga had become little better then vagrants. They stood on the street corners dancing and playing music. They claimed to be free but they were slaves to the drugs they took. Claimed to be Nature’s Children, but they knew nothing of the real love for the Mother. They were hippies, in the worst sense of the word.
Ian shrugs his head low as he passes them, hoping they will not notice his elven heritage. He passes them with no problems. The smell of pot hangs on them strongly. Ian mumbles something about them killing there bodies. It was the elven belief that there were some things that you did not put into your body. Pot was one of them. Alcohol was reserved for special circumstances. Tobacco, if cured properly, is fine. They had a way to remove the impurities of it. And unlike the humans, they did not add chemicals or toxins into it. Remembering he had smoked his last cig, he decided to hit up a mini-mart.
But he had to walk over to the elven section of New Haven. Even though it was supposed to be a city united, there were districts that everyone held to. He was in the slums…a place he could hide. He would have to be careful entering the elven district. He could be recognized. If so, a phone call could destroy his cover. So he ducked into a small store when he passed into the dwarves district. The dwarven district was the only one where there were other races. It was also the center of the city. To get anywhere in New Haven you had to go through the dwarves. Ian picked up some concealer at the make up counter to cover up his tattoo that marked his house. Then some gloves to cover up his ring. He never took it off.
Then off to the elven district. While there, he figured, might as well pick up some food. He had been subsisting off of O’Tooli’s, an American chain of fast food. Mainly hamburgers, or that is what the said they were.
As Night Eyes crested the hill, he caught his first glimpse of the elven section. The homes were tall, the smallest at least three stories. And the building were slender. Maybe only a room or two on each floor. The elves built there homes and stores like this because they were originally forest dwellers. The homes could not go out. They went up. Ian smiled as he viewed the section. But it looked so odd with out the Taiga.
He quickly darted into a store and picked up another carton of smokes. Twigs, his favorite brand. The papers were actually hollowed out sticks. They were also the most expensive. Then darted over to a restaurant. Ian tried to move leisurely. No one rushed here, let alone the elves. He picked up a primarily vegetarian meal. More asiatic then normal. It was a recent trend to take up the asian culture now that the elves live there.
Running back through the dwarven district, realizing he had left the cell phone Jonah had given him long ago. As he entered the crumbling slums, he realized something was terribly wrong. The elves were gone…everyone was gone. That could only mean one thing.
“Lookie what we got ‘ere, mates. Its one o’ them elves…the rich’uns. What you think we should do wit’em?” the voice was a sharp cockney. Night Eyes turned around slowly, and saw a gang of four. Three humans, and an goblin. The goblin was the leader. He stood about 5’ 6” and had deep green skin. His briliant yellow eyes were dimmed by drink, and the humans smelled every bit as drunk as the goblin looked. “Jus’ drop yer wallet, and other valu’bles and tings will go yer way…” Night Eyes dropped his wallet. He was no match for these brutes. One held a cricket bat, the other humans had chains. The goblin was unarmed, but his hands ended in cyber claws. Goblins had a love for cybernetic enhancements that became popular in the last decade of the war. They were about the only race who still practices the ‘art’. As the wallet hit the floor, a form raised behind the goblin, and a large club struck his head sharply. Then the shape swung hard at the humans. Two fell. The last ran. Night Eyes looked at the person in front of him.
He was short, maybe 5 foot at max, but over three foot broad. His clothes were well made and maintained, but looked like a costume of a ruffian. His face was hard, with a short cropped beard and hair the color of coal. As he stepped forward and dropped the club, Ian recognized his childhood friend.
“Jonah, where have you been? I have been wai…”
“Quiet!” Jonah snapped, “We need to get out of here. The alleys have ears. All will be explained as soon as I can” He then smiled at Ian. “It is good to see you again, Night Eyes.” His face softened as they walked back to the hotel room.