Fantasy Born From Hope

[Debonaire]

Spoiler: Ridain

Children of all races, be they human, fairy, dwarf, are all taught similar values. Justice, determination, compassion. Endurance, that is something that is not taught, but gained with experience. Yet few understand endurance like the elves, few have known the same strife. An elven child is first taught loyalty, for kinship is their core. Then they are taught endurance, for a determined elf is dangerous elf, and a dangerous elf is a dead elf. They endured abuse both physical and verbal, endured unspeakable vices committed upon them and most of all, they endured their own sense of pride, their inherent need to rise against their oppressors.

Gradually, as years turned to decades and decades to centuries, as the older generation died and the young took up the mantle, the spirit of resistance was lost for those that lived within the walls of human cities. Now the once proud rulers of the land were viewed as nothing but dirty, lazy, thieving knife-ears. Yet elves still garnered fear and respect for one reason, the Rel'Aethe.

The Rel'Aethe were once known as the reconnaissance brigade of the old empire. Now they were all that remained of its decimated armies. Yet, while not capable of going head on against the armies of the human lords, they took the human forces on with their legacy, stealth and guerrilla tactics. They inspired fear among their enemies and were both respected and hated, yet a victory for the Rel'Aethe always spelled the death of many city elves, believed to be sympathizers of the sprouting rebellion.

It wasn't often that Rel'Aethe soldiers were dispatched so near to the cities. Sieges and large-scale warfare was utterly unknown to them, yet this time they were to brave closer than ever. Ridain and his dragoons had been dispatched to meet with city elf rebels and to offer them a place in their ranks. Recruitment was never simple and always dangerous. So why had Ridain been sent? He didn't possess a tongue adept in diplomacy, nor did he much care for careless amateurs that think themselves capable of toppling over a city with a handful of men.

He was chosen because he was known, he was renowned among elves and notorious among humans. His men fondly titled him the Scarred Stag for his two most recognizable characteristics - the white stag he rode and the diagonal scar across his face. He wasn't recognized for his brutality, there were others far worse among the Rel'Aethe than he in that regard. Neither was it prowess in combat, at least not exclusively. No, it was his commanding presence that demanded respect. His men loved him and were willing to follow him into certain demise, as would most among the Rel'Aethe.

The fairly small company of mounted soldiers stopped when they entered into a clearing amidst the trees. The tall stone walls of the city were in view and Ridain could feel the thick tension growing amidst his ranks. They waited there, each soldier scanning a different portion of the clearing for any sign of movement, and each keeping their hands close to their weapons.


InkedFox

 

[InkedFox]

As the soldiers came into the clearing, out from the brush peeked a pair of wide round eyes. Once the owner of the pair noticed the pointed ears of the mounted men, a small child stepped fourth cautiously. A young elf boy, with slender ears and bright greens eyes approached the group of elves, and called out quickly.

"Are you them? --Them ones from outside the walls?" The boy looked around as if checking to make sure no one had followed him out. He had been chosen for his small frame, and low status. No one would care if an elf orphan went missing and thus no one expected the little one to slip through the bars in the drainage outlets in the wall. In his hand he held a note, it was crumpled in his small fist out of anxiety-- he looked spooked and anxious; ready to be on his way. Holding out the note he handed it to the nearest soldier before scampering off. The soldier inspected the piece of parchment and a confused look knit his brows before he handed the note to his leader, the Stag himself. Scrawled across the parchment laid a cryptic message that sounded more like a children's nursery rhyme.

Wee Willie Winkie with his eyes so bright
He's come looking for a brave and loyal Knight
Dear little Willie will remain out of sight
Only to bargain with the one of truest might
---Brave the walls of city plight
and find within; the Candle Light

These city rebels were more mysterious then rumored. They were completely enigmatic and only a handful of people even believed them to be real. Most dismissed the rumors of rebels within the city, simply stating that most of the recent events were being blamed on the minority races as a way to scapegoat them. --But in truth, most of this part of the city had become gripped in fear by a superstitious tale that had spread like wild fire within the last few months.

It started in a small part of town just beyond the alienage, and most of the happenings although mysterious, seemed to grow more shocking and frightening with each event. Upon the first night when things began to become quick odd, every person who lived within the vicinity of the market street suddenly found their left shoes missing. Two days after that, each person down the street awoke in the wee hours of the morning to the sounds of someone slowly knocking at their doors in sequences of three, --and all seemed to agree that when they had gone to answer the door. --No one was there.

At first people wrote it off as the pranks of naughty children, but soon the pranks began to take on a more malicious turn the further the events spread out into the city. In the richer quarters, people began to complain of having beehives suddenly lobbed down their chimneys in the middle of the night, or complaining of objects going missing from their homes. Some nobles even began to report instances of awaking to most of their furniture having been nailed to the ceiling and yet not one person had heard a hammer swing. At another residence, one noble man had begun to think he had gone crazy, as all the clothes and shoes in his home had suddenly become two sizes too small. While on the other side of town, one noble tiraded about the wheels of his finely crafted carriage suddenly being replaced with giant pumpkins over night.

The more the complaints rushed in, the stranger and stranger the reports became. A farmer, known to be quite greedy and cruel, awoke to his flock of sheep perched upon his roof with no explanation as to how they had gotten there. Soon enough all quarters of the city began experiencing some strange occurrence or another. Curtains gone missing, tables and chairs discovered stacked at the center of rooms in the morning, a herd of pigs storming a nobleman's ball, all the pants from the guards barracks suddenly gone missing, silk pillow cases stuffed with live chickens.

The most distressing of all was one nobleman's report of having fallen asleep in his bed, only to awake in horror the next morning, as he was greeted by several cows out grazing in a field he was now laying in, and he had no recollection of how he (or his mattress) had gotten there. With no explanation to be given for the occurrences that all seemed to be random, yet connected, --stories and rumors began to take shape. Soon enough the tale of the a young delinquent named Willie began to follow the events, and whispers of this phantom child visiting those he deemed foul began to spread. Thus the legend of Wee Willie Winkie was born. The children in the streets began to sing strange and chilling lullabies and rhymes to remind those who listened to beware of Willie's wrath.

"Wee Willie Winkie runs through the town, Up stairs and down stairs in his night-gown, Tapping at the window, scratching at the lock, "Are the children in their bed, for it's past eight o'clock?"" They would sing as they went running up and down the streets. Other haunting melodies and tales were born, further cementing in the fear surrounding the ghostly child. Some ballads remarked him as a demonic child, "Little Willie, mean as hell, Pushed his sister in a well. Mother said, while drawing water, "My, it's hard to raise a daughter.""

While other sing song rhymes painted him as a misfortunate soul, who was kind yet met an unfair and tragic end, thus turning him into an angry spirit. "Willie, a helpful boy but not well sighted, Built a fireplace fire and self-ignited; Now, with the flames dying down and the room growing chilly, ---Would someone please re-light Willie?"


Though no one truly knew what would incur Willie's wrath, it seemed that those who were the most wicked or unfair towards minorities took the blunt of it. For weeks on end, known bigots would suffer from strange occurrences around their homes. From things gone missing completely, to entire rooms being switched around over night, causing owners to become lost within their own homes. Though alienages still suffered greatly. It was the legend of Willie that kept most discriminating nobles away.


Debonaire

 

[Debonaire]

Soon enough, the rustling of a nearby brush sounded the arrival of the one they were to meet, except it was a child and not a retinue of rebels. The child was anxious to the point of shivering, so once he had given the soldiers their message he was quick to bolt off. His distrust for them was understandable, Ridain recalled sharing the very same hatred for those brooding soldiers. For an orphan with few opportunities, those types often signified guards, and the city guards with their pent-up aggression were known to take it out on the poor and weak.

"Commander." Illaine said as he handed the note over to Ridain. He glanced over the message, though it resembled more like a riddle than directions, thankfully Ridain was more than familiar with the Candle Light. He crumpled the note and stuffed it into one of the pockets on the inside of his cloak before turning from the clearing in search of a road.

"If I had known we would be heading into the city, I would never have agreed to this assignment." Ridain said begrudgingly, though understandably he was not suited for infiltration missions, being that his face and specifically, his scar, was on wanted posters from Yeran to Auiseth.

The Rel'Aethe dragoons rode until they came upon the main road leading to the city. Under the shroud of darkness, they felt relatively safe coming this close to the city. There they dismounted and Ridain chose Illaine to be the one to enter the city. Not only was Illaine his second in command, but he had short ears and low cheekbones, meaning he could've quite easily been mistaken for a human, especially in such low-visibility conditions. Even so, he would still need to keep his hood low to hide the sharp points of his ears and more importantly, his long, platinum blonde hair.

Ridain helped Illaine get ready for his assignment, he explained where he find the Candle Light inn and pointed out flaws in his posture. 'A human guard is far less likely to stir up trouble if the person in question doesn't look overbearing or arrogant'. Then, just before Illaine was to take off, Ridain placed his palm on his friend's neck in a reassuring, brotherly manner. "In and out. All you need to do is tell them to meet us out here. If they are stubborn, get yourself out before dawn." The two exchanged mutual nods of goodbye before Ridain took a step back and watched as his friend mounted his horse and took off toward the city.

It wasn't uncommon for Rel'Aethe elves to infiltrate human cities in this manner, though it was never without risk. Doing so at night, they could sometimes be lucky enough to encounter a snoring guard at the gate and thus no resistance. Other times there were multiple people entering, and thus the guards were less lenient. When Illaine approached the gate, he was lucky enough to discover only a single watchman on duty, and it was an especially drowsy watchman.

Illaine tugged gently on the reins of his mount to slow the horse down to a leisurely walk. The guard at the gate did little more than look up at the cloaked elf, watching him pass with no word of protest. Illaine sighed a sigh of relief as he made his way through the derelict streets of the city, toward his destination in the poorer district.

The Candle Light. It stood out like a splash of blood in a pile of snow. The surrounding buildings were all dark and depressing, and while the entire district seemed far too silent, the inn housed laughter and music. Illaine stationed his horse outside the entrance and cautiously entered.

 

[InkedFox]

A Friend of Willie

Upon entering the Candle Light, one would be greeted with the sound of jaunty music and mirthful laughter. The drinks never seemed to cease flowing here, and the crowd, though heavily mixed in race, seemed as tightly knit as family; as they all carried on rambunctiously dancing to tune floating through the inn. As the stranger entered, the liveliness of the room somewhat died down, as a few patrons stopped in the middle of their merry making to cast suspicious glances in the new face's direction. There was a tangible change in the air, and though most went back to their business, there was also a presence of awareness that flooded the room.

Throughout the inn, could be found a very diverse crowd. From half-orcs to halfings, many races found in the ruin of the alienages were present at the inn-- The Inn owner herself was a half-orc that had managed to establish a thriving business after years of suffering from the poverty only found in these districts of the city. The stocky woman trailed over to the stranger, and eyed him flatly. One of her tiny tusks jutted out at a strange angle, giving the woman a perpetual frown.

"Evening, Sir." She greeted him, though dryly. "--Do you need a room? Or perhaps a drink?" She asked. --Before he could even answer, she interrupted and waved him off. "Take a seat-- I will attend you shortly." Then she went stalking off toward the back behind the main bar.

After a few moments, a new face arrived from the room behind the bar, this one belonged to a lithe, and darkly skinned elven woman. She was clothed in a pale blue tunic that was cinched at her slender waist with a long leather belt, and atop that she wore a patchwork cloak. Her hair was wild and untameable, with bright strands of gold curling into her unkempt mahogany ringlets. A blue ribbon tied back her wild hair from her eyes. She looked over at the new comer with a knowing glance. Her eyes shimmered with a copper sheen that matched the high lights of her hair, and her face was slender, with the telltale tall and thin ears most races had come to recognize. There was a wave of applause in the room, as the woman entered the center of the commons area.

"Evening~" She called. Her voice was full and smooth, and yet, rough at the same time.

The room replied by hooting and hollering back at her; earning a chuckle from the woman. "A final song for the night, yes?" She said producing a finely carved lute from her under her cloak.

The crowd agreed and then fell into silence as the woman began her song. Strumming lightly at her lute, she sang the words of a song written in a foreign language only openly spoken in the higher districts of the city. It was an elegant language that rolled off the tongue like a fluid dance. She spoke it with such grace and fluency that the entire inn watched her in hushed awe. Some swayed with the rhythm, drinking their drinks and letting the emotion of the song sweep them in. The entire time as she sang in her sweetly rough voice, she watched the stranger, as if inviting him closer.

The song was somewhat somber in its tone, swelling into a bitter sweet climax before fading out into the lonely melody of her lute. When the song finished, the patrons applauded, but there was a noticeable rush for some of the patrons to pay their tabs and leave. Only a few people were left in the inn once the song had hit its final note. With her song done, and the Inn steadily emptying, the songstress sat at the bar, and ordered two drinks. Though she never turned to face the stranger, she patted the stool next to her; beckoning him over.

Debonaire

 

[Debonaire]

Illaine's entry was met with eyes, both unfriendly and curious. Looking through the small crowd of patrons, Illaine began to feel very out of place. In an attempt to minimize suspicion, the elf lowered his hood so that his sharp - albeit stubby by elven standards - ears were visible. His long platinum blonde hair fell in loose cascades when freed from the confinement of his hood. The gesture seemed to pay off as soon enough, a heavyset half-orc woman approached the lost-looking elf and barraged him with hurried questions.

"N-." Illaine began voicing his refusal but he didn't get far before the woman waved her hand dismissively and told him to take a seat, then she hurried back to the bar to deal with a few impatient patrons, leaving the soft-spoken newcomer flustered and confused.

Once Illaine had taken his seat, he played the part of a patient, yet keen observer. His eyes, vividly orange in the presence of the low flame of the fireplace, were mild and even soothing. He greeted strangers that passed by his table with a soft, welcoming smile that made it seem like he were reuniting with an old friend. If it was an act, it was an incredible performance. He noted each individual in the taproom, everyone that came and went, yet none had caught his eye like the dark-skinned beauty that stepped out from behind the bar. The way he watched her, blinking only when necessary, as if she were the sole person in the room. Weren't it for the fact that Illaine's whole being oozed of genuine kindness and virtue, one might think the elf had fallen in love.

Her fearless eyes met with his, somehow bestowing him with the knowledge that she was the one he was looking for, there was no doubt in his mind. The mysterious she-elf then broke into song, her long, lithe fingers strumming the strings of her lute with such finesse that Illaine's sense of urgency melted away. A deep silence fell over the inn, with the only sound to fill the void being the serene beauty that was her song. All the while, this mysterious beauty kept both Illaine's gaze and thoughts, her siren's song catching him like a hawk would a mouse.

When the song ended, there was a brief moment where there was nothing but the crackling of the fireplace to fill the soundless void. Then everyone stood, Illaine included, and gave the magnificent performance the applause it deserved. Strangely enough, with the song finished, instead of crowding around the performer, offering drinks and praise, the patrons of the inn were trickling out in a bit of a rush.

'Convenient' thought Illaine. 'Or perhaps planned?'. Regardless, the elf found his curiosity had soared, if this mysterious performer was truly the leader of the city rebels, then perhaps even Ridain would reconsider his stance on them.

Soon after the crowd had almost entirely dispersed out onto the streets, the she-elf tapped the stool by her side in what Illaine assumed was a gesture for him to join her, and he did so without a word.

"You possess a magnificent gift, Illseth." Illaine said as he lowered himself down into the stool by her side. He took the chance to study her more closely then, her alluring, yet oddly dangerous eyes, her smooth and unblemished dark skin, the fact that she smelled like the sweet dew of the forests, even being a city elf.

 

[InkedFox]

There was a sort of graceful and deadly efficiency about her, and she pinned the forest elf with a knowing honey colored gaze. "Illseth? We don't hear much of our native tongue beyond the wall-- It's refreshing." Her tone was soft and just as alluring as her golden gaze.

The inn was all but deserted at this point. Leaving the inn silent and still save for the cackling of the fire place. The inn mistress had already begun dimming candles to make the inn appear as if it had closed for the night; leaving only the warm glow of the main fireplace to light the length of the tap room. Soon enough the inn owner glided by elves seated at the bar and set down drinks, handing the she-elf a long stemmed pipe. After lighting a candle, and setting it nearby, the half orc nodded to the woman and left without another word.

"Thank you, Tilly~" The she-elf cooed at the scowling half orc as she left. "--Don't mind Tilly. She's my eyes. Not much for conversation, though." She gave a throaty chuckle. "I'm glad you liked my song--" She added before sipping her drink and setting it aside.

"The stag sent you, no?" There was a small inflection of accent in her pleasantly coarse voice. "It's okay-- there are men patrolling the streets outside, and no one else will be allowed in. We can speak freely here. I'm sure you have questions-- As do we." She held the pipe between her elegant fingers and puffed it to life on the candle's flame. A steady stream of smoke escaped her shapely lips as she regarded him.

"I hope your journey into the city was not a difficult one... We can help you leave when it is time-- but for now, let us get to know each other better." There was almost a pur in her tone as she reclined against the bar and leaned in closer to the blonde elf.

 

[Debonaire]

The air seemed to thicken between them when she mentioned their native tongue, how it was not permitted to be spoken within the walls of human cities. It wasn't a hostile or even awkward tension, more like the silence one would find at a funeral. It was especially sad for Illaine, the gentle soul he was, he himself had never experienced the injustice that these people lived with in their daily lives. Nevertheless, he ended the brief, tense silence between them with a smile and a somewhat innocent question. "Do you speak it?"

As they spoke, the innkeep busied herself with various tasks, dimming the lights and overall tidying the room. Illaine's gaze occasionally wandered over to her, nothing but curiosity to it, of course. Yet whenever the half-orc caught his eyes, she seemed to scowl. It didn't truly bother Illaine, but it certainly made him very conscious of the fact that he was an outsider there.

Regardless of the owner's feelings toward the new arrival, she brought the two elves drinks and then left for the kitchen, dismissing Illaine's attempt at thanking her. The two now had the whole taproom entirely to themselves. Under dim lights and nothing but the crackling of the fireplace to fill in the blanks of their conversation, it could've been mistaken for a rather romantic occasion.

"I've noticed." Illaine smiled and with his company's strangely unrestrained and exceptionally infectious chuckle, he had to stifle his own laughter. He chose to say less rather than more, allowing his host to control the tempo of their conversation entirely. He discovered that her voice was equally pleasant when she spoke as when she sang. The longer their conversation carried on, the more obvious it became that Illaine's eyes laid his emotions bare, as if written on his face. Their business might have been significant, but there was no looking past the charm that she wielded like a sword.

Then, as quickly as they had materialized, the admiration in his eyes vanished at the mention of his commander, the Stag. It hadn't disappeared entirely, not nearly. It had merely been concealed beneath the shroud of his true intentions. "You're well-informed, Illseth," He nodded to confirm her question. "I'm afraid I've not been given authority to negotiate with you, my instructions were to bring these negotiations outside of the wall. To neutral territory." Illaine reached for his drink and sampled it cautiously. There was a pleasant curve to his lips to find the liquid to be an elderflower mead.

Again, she brandished her charm when she leaned in closer to him, and Illaine could do little else but stare at her. It was painfully obvious by his reddening cheeks - made even more obvious by his pale skin - that he was not used to her sort of woman. Not to say that he showed any sign of disliking it, quite the opposite. He couldn't look away from her. "..Ah- No, I wouldn't say it was difficult. I can blend in reasonably well among the humans." He focused on her first question, glancing straight past the second suggestion.

 

[InkedFox]

The dusky skinned elven woman let out another throaty chuckle as she watched the male's cheeks brighten. She drew away hoping to allow him some breathing room. "--Oh of course. I do not speak of negotiations. I speak of questions. Surely your commander is wondering why we did not meet outside the walls." Her coppery gaze returned to her cup, and she puffed her pipe once as if in deep thought.

"--This war only grows more dangerous the closer to the city one is-- and we, are at the heart of it..." She began to explain. Her sultry demeanor somewhat melting away and revealing a stricter, done-to-business tone.

"While you and your men wage wars outside of the walls with your swords and arrows.... Inside the wall-- we wage war with secrets." There was a sly smile that graced her plump lips.

"--You see... Whispers can get you killed in the city. So it is of utmost importance to keep things quiet... It wouldn't serves us to send a group of our people out beyond the wall... It would draw too much attention." She rose, and rounded the young man; drifting behind him at a languid pace as she casually puffed her pipe.

"To top it off, we wanted to make sure you were trust worthy-- and serious... Seeing as you crossed the wall to contact us-- you've proven your point..." The she-elf paced around the bar and leaned onto the counter top before the young man, examining his broad face and pale hair that caught fire light like strands of moonbeams.

"We are already beyond the wall-- I will give you someone who can lead you to one of our enclaves," Her voice was low and took on a serious tone. "There are far too many of our people trapped inside the walls; to just up and leave all at once-- so... most of our.... diversionary antics... have been for the sake of sneaking people beyond the wall without drawing suspicion. --While guards are busy investigating missing trousers, and turned about rooms. We're busy smuggling a small army out of the city. ---So far it has worked in our favor, though the element of mystery will eventually run its course... Its why we worked so hard to keep this as secretive as possible..."

Drawing back she turned towards the door leading to the back room. Opening the back room door, there in the entrance a small figure stood just beyond the shadow of the room.

"Mari-- It's okay. You can come out-- This is our friend. He's going to take you to your mother." The darkly skinned she-elf explained, as if there'd be no argument. She scooped up the frail form of a small and pallid elf girl and sat her on the counter near the scout. "This is Mari-- She was one of ours who managed to escape into one of the enclaves... but the guards found her in the woods of the outlying area and brought her back... --but she knows how to return to the enclave. --Two birds... one stone. You'd be doing us a favor-- and you'll get to meet the group you're looking for...."

 

[Debonaire]

As the subject of their conversation shifted, so did her demeanor. Her charming flirtations seemed to fade and the cadence of her tone grew more serious. Even her posture seemed different, more authoritative. Illaine knew little of this woman, but despite her flirtatious side, he knew her to be the reliable sort. Illaine wasn't the best judge when it came to deceiving characters, he trusted easily and always made his own mind up about people. However, when it came to judging the positive characteristics of someone, he was impressively accurate. Perhaps that skill of his was factored into the Stag's decision on sending Illaine as his right hand.

Illaine listened to what she said with ears perked, the tender expression on his face growing firm and stony with the shift toward the more grim details of the war being waged, and the effect it had on regular city elves. Yet there was the faintest of tugs at the corner of Illaine's lips when she mentioned that her people were at the heart of the war. He pictured Ridain's face in that moment, how his commander would likely have stopped her right there, arguing that she and her 'Willies' were nothing but pranksters and hooligans, incapable of understanding the way of war. Of course, Illaine had his own opinions on the matter, but he was far less outspoken than his superior officer.

She then spoke of how they had been smuggling their people outside of the wall, gathering a small army beneath the noses of everyone. Illaine beamed at that, his eyes gleaming with enthusiasm. He could bring Ridain something more than whispers, something more than empty promises. An actual, physical army. "This is great news. We didn't know you had been this prepared."

Illaine stood as she reached to open the door behind the bar. Inside was a small elven child that she introduced as Mari. Illaine's smile only grew at the sight of the child while the girl shyly averted her gaze from the tall, perhaps somewhat imposing stranger.

His host scooped up the small child and placed her on the counter before Illaine and the elf wasted no time in trying to ease the anxiety she must've felt by his presence. He bent slightly so that his face was level with hers and smiled a wide, fatherly smile. "Well, aren't you just precious. Mari, is it? You remind me of my sister. She has beautiful wavy blonde hair like yours."

Illaine looked her over carefully, and while his gaze might've been gentle, he examined her in the same way a physician might. "Though I wouldn't hide these if I were you, they are something to be proud of, don't you think? So long and elegant, too." He slowly reached out, as to allow the small child plenty of time to withdraw from his touch before he brushed her blonde hair behind her ear, revealing her two long, sharp ears. He spoke with the child for a little while, eventually managing to provoke the tiniest giggle from the girl. Apparently satisfied with that, he straightened himself out and faced the she-elf.

"Certainly, I will take you up on that offer. But will you not be joining us?" There was a hint of disappointment to his voice.

 

[InkedFox]

She watched him gently charm the girl, and smiled softly at the display. The young man was genuinely kind, or just very good at putting on a show. Either way, Mari warmed up to him in no time. She was pleased that there was no argument in taking the girl back to her mother, but the scout seemed a little disappointed she hadn't been the one to escort them.

She gave another throaty chuckle, and then reached over to run a finger up the length of his broad neck; slowly grazing the apple of his throat. "--I have some business I must attend to first. --But, if you're lucky. you might see me again." She said with a smirk and wink. "Take good care of her." She nodded towards the child.

"Now-- if there isn't anything else you wish to discuss. I must say, it is getting rather late--" She came around the bar and began to head for the front doors.

"--Much too dark outside for a handsome young uncle and niece to be riding about... We can only pray that the guards are vigilant enough to see through this shadowy night. --Who knows what kind of hooligans are out?" The she-elf laughed through a sly tone. Mari giggled along, noting the woman's joking tone and hopped down from the bar to run over and embrace the she-elf's leg.

"You behave now, okay? Or else the Stag is gonna eat you!" The dusky songstress tickled the girl all over and growled playfully; sending Mari into a fit of squirming laughter.

 

[Debonaire]

Illaine's cheeks reddened more fiercely than before, but he didn't awkwardly avert his eyes or freeze. He seemed more at ease, perhaps she merely had that effect on him. Needless to say, he found her goodbye to be more than satisfactory, and only answered with an understanding nod and his usual warm, welcoming smile. "I will."

He then watched as she said her goodbyes to Mari. They interacted so smoothly, so naturally that one could've mistaken them for sisters. The older of the two could've possibly been mistaken for her mother, she was certainly youthful in appearance, but it was her personality and the way she carried herself that exaggerated that fact. She was in no way motherly.

Then Illaine broke his silent, solemn charade when she made her comment about Ridain. The spoke of him as if he were a monster from a children's book, and he couldn't help but snort that escalated into a deep, rumbling chuckle alongside Miri's girlish giggling. After both had recovered, Illaine approached Mari from behind and suddenly hoisted her up over his head and placed her gently on top of his shoulders. "Don't listen to her, the Stag is someone to look up to, not fear. I bet you he will even let you ride Hiraeth if you ask him politely." He shot the she-elf a playful glare that was not even halfway convincing and was soon replaced by a wide smile.

"I hope we will meet again, Illseth." His tone was more serious now, and his expression, too. He even bowed his head as a gesture of respect, but it came off as more of an excessive formality.

With that, the Rel'Aethe elf left the humble inn behind, carrying Mari on his shoulders until he felt it would draw too much attention to them. The two had been quick to warm up to one another, but it didn't stop the skeptical side of him to question his agreement with the plan, a child leading him into the unknown. Despite his uncertainty, Mari was a decisive and reliable guide. She traversed the streets of the city as if she had the map of it ingrained in her vision, sometimes seemingly arbitrarily deciding to change directions. These small decisions proved invaluable, as they came across no guards within the city.

 

[InkedFox]

Mari's sharp intuition would further prove to be a boon to the army of elves, though she was met with great skepticism when they first returned. After explaining her situation and with not much choice left but to allow the child to guide them. Mari set them on the path towards the first enclave. The girl couldn't explain properly how the enclaves operated. She was much too young to grasp the complexity behind it, but the navigation had been drilled into her like all of the children who had parents seeking refuge within them. The children played their own part, and in no small way-- though the training was seen as nothing more then rules and guidelines set by worried parents.

Such was the time they lived in-- without the proper survival training and guile, one would quickly find themselves starving to death, sick, and run down by rogues, city guards, and the wilderness itself beyond the walls. But somehow, these enclaves had found safe pockets. Places within the woods that seemed to shift and move as the wild forest grew and changed of its own accord, and this secretive group had learn how to shift along with it. Mari followed certain markers, often stopping at certain colored lichen or tasting the sap of certain trees before changing route and leading the group down twisting paths that were barely able to navigate.

They were so choked by brambles and twisting branches that most were forced into a single line in order to transverse it. After trailing through thick forest that seemed to invite in not a ribbon of sunlight, they finally came to a cove. This is where the girl stopped. She wandered ahead, looking around for any more hidden signs, but when none were left, she simply stared about; taking in the rough walls of the secluded grove.

The area was silent, and there was not an inch of movement from the surroundings. "Hello! My name is Willie!" The girl finally cried out in the echoing stillness. --for a moment, nothing happened. Until finally-- Something rustled from high atop the rocks directly in front of the girl, and out popped a strange figure. Their robes were composed of foliage as if for camouflage, and they wore a large mask obviously whittled from bark. The expression of it was irreverent and exaggerated, as if making a goofy face and the girl chuckled at the sight of it. "Oi! My name is Willie!" The figure chuckled back, and hopped down. Mari, as if knowing the masked figure, cheerfully threw her arms out and scurried towards the figure, embracing their waist.

 

[Debonaire]

By the time Illaine and Mari returned, the four elven rebels had already set up a crude encampment, consisting of a low fire and some dry ground for sleeping. The first to spot them was Aranthir, their scout that hid himself high up in the trees. He was the one that escorted them back to the others. Ridain wasn't all too thrilled with the plan that Illaine had agreed to, least of all when a child of all things had been tasked with showing them the way. He ultimately decided that there was no reason to bring an armed escort alongside them as they traveled, so only he and Illaine departed alongside Mari.

With Mari taking the lead, Illaine was always only a step behind or at her side, watching over her with the same precautionary instincts of a mother bear with her cub. Ridain trailed behind them, walking alongside his mount, Hiraeth. The white stag was tall and muscular, slightly taller than an adult horse. Alongside his thick snow white coat, the stag possessed a pair of very large and imposing black antlers. Yet, despite it's height and overall threatening appearance, the animal was as gentle as a lamb. Ridain demonstrated the fact a few times throughout their short journey by feeding Hiraeth from the palm of his hand. The two even communicated, though it was a unique sort of communication. Ridain cooed softly and ever so often stroked his back while the other would let out various grunts, not too different from a horse in that regard.

Mari lead them deep into the forest, where the trees were dense and the foliage even more so. It was so difficult for them to navigate that Ridain couldn't imagine anyone stumbling upon this place, either that or Mari had gotten them completely lost. Soon enough, his worries would be put to rest as an overgrown cobblestone grove came into view, and following Mari's sudden greeting to seemingly no one, they were met with a guard.. of sorts.

In their arrival, Ridain saw with it a chance to end this hopeless detour of theirs, to hopefully return where he might actually be needed. He walked past Illaine with Hiraeth in tow, standing before the guard that greeted Mari so cheerfully.

"I've had enough of your games, bring me to whoever represents your clique. I will speak with them immediately." Ridain's tone was hurried and his eyes were stony. He didn't really mean to take out his irritation on the underling before him, but he was well beyond the limits of his patience.

Behind him stood Illaine, somewhat frozen as he looked between his commander and the unfortunate recipient of his ire.

 

[InkedFox]

With Friends like These...

"I've had enough of your games, bring me to whoever represents your clique. I will speak with them immediately." The mighty warrior demanded, and the masked guard simply stared for a moment, and then let a small titter escape his throat. Which eventually turned into a wave of laughter that rung throughout the alcove. His voice was joined by others, and soon the entire clearing rang like bells with jaunty laughter that was obviously not from the solitary 'guard'.

"--I'm afraid everything is a game, my friend. ---You just need to know how to bend the rules." The masked man chuckled and cradled Mari in his arms. The girl didn't look worried in the least, and in fact, relaxed in the strangers arms as she lazily watched the elf commander's rising frustration. Suddenly the entrance which they had come through sealed shut with a large boulder that had shifted into the mouth; effectively blocking retreat. The surroundings of the clearing were composed of thick and unforgiving briar that looked troublesome to hack down. There was no place to run--

"Alright, Gratin-- that's enough." A stern voice broke the tense air and another figure appeared through the brush. A tall female with sharp features and cascading curls of dark mahogany crept fourth. She pinned the figures in the clearing with a level yet authoritative gaze. Something in her accent was familiar, and her coppery gaze wandered over to the other male that had accompanied the Stag before staring squarely at the man himself. "--Good of you to come, Commander... We've been expecting you..." Upon announcing their patient wait, other figures emerged from the brush. All rugged figures, and a well mixed group of people from all races and background. None were human...

A towering half orc stepped fourth. He easily stood head and shoulders above the elven soldiers and the woman. But he gave a questioning glance to the dark skinned woman who had first spoke. The next to step fourth was another woman though this one was of beastkin blood. They stood before the Stag and there was a noticeable change in the air as the now crowded grove buzzed with hushed murmurs as the group considered the intention and reaction the mix group would receive from the elven skirmisher.

"--You came because you needed warriors. We have them--- this enclave is one of many scattered through out the land. But before we give you what you need; we need to know that you are worth the risk...." The elven woman spoken with confidence in her tone. "Our secrecy has been what has kept us alive through many years of strife, which only promises to grow much worse the more authority the humans gain. As much as you need us, we also need you." The dusky skinned elf glanced over to the towering half-orc at her side.

​

He nodded and began to explain, "We have survived by using what skills we have as a community, and though some of us do-- most in our flock have no formal training as soldiers. We need direction-- Training--"

​

It was the beast-kin woman who stepped forward next. "Yes-- with the subterfuge techniques we currently have; we have been able to smuggle much supplies and food from the city--- but the guards are growing wise to the ruse."

"You see-- the legend of Willy is dying... It will no longer give us the protection or power it once had... not in the current state we are in. By allying with you-- we give our people a fighting chance --and there are still many more trapped beyond the walls....Tell us Stag-- What would you have us do?" It was the elven woman who chimed in once more before falling silent.

 

[Debonaire]

First, his fury seemed to only grow, their laughter it's fuel. He mercilessly stared the guard down with his gaze of steel, by the time their laughter was silenced, the Stag had already firmly wrapped his hand around the hilt of his sheathed blade. He seemed either unaware or entirely indifferent to the fact that he was surrounded and his escape blocked. The anxiety he perhaps should've felt instead bled over onto Illaine, whose worries crawled up onto the surface in the shape of his widened eyes and furrowed brows. While Ridain might have been willing to cut through as many of these people as he could before being brought down, Illaine was clearly not of the same mind, yet he loyally followed his commander's lead, his hand wrapped around the hilt of his blade, though lacking the same confidence.

Elves were a stubborn sort, and often arrogant. Yet it was rare for an elf to allow these emotions to cloud their reason entirely. Dispelling the tension like a gust would a cloud of dust, an authoritative yet distinctly feminine voice swept through the clearing. The guard, though already rather indifferent toward Ridain's imposing posturing, ignored him completely when the female approached. Ridain's gaze followed, now noticeably less hostile, instead he and Illaine looked on with awe as the clearing was gradually becoming crowded with people of all races, except human, a small army, in the right hands.

She addressed him, he said nothing. He noticed, from the corner of his eye, the smile that crept onto Illaine's face when the apparent leader met his eyes. A familiar smile. The diverse group certainly caught both of the Rel'Aethe elves intrigue, specifically the towering half-orc, who not only dwarfed the elves in height, but girth as well. Again, there was a discernible difference between the two elven soldiers. Illaine seemed more intimidated than intrigued while Ridain hadn't even fluttered an eye, he studied the man like a siege technician might examine their war machine.

The next time he was addressed, his gaze had softened considerably, he nodded to assert his understanding of the situation and gave each one of the three, he assumed leaders, the respect he thought they deserved. Then, it seemed all eyes were on him, the clearing falling into an expectant silence.

"A fighting chance, hm?" He smiled, an odd thing to see after his earlier outburst. Yet it was a very pleasant smile, responsible, even fatherly in its nature. It's shape was natural and it suited his face well, perhaps because it diminished the imposing effect of his scar.

"Very well," He then added with a nod. "We have conditions. First and foremost, we will need the location of all of your enclaves, a rundown of your supplies and military capabilities and how many civilians you are housing. In return, we will take in as many willing warriors as you have and train them, as well as assist in any other military matters that might arise. I will also need at least one of you to accompany me back to serve as your emissary,"

"Think it over, talk it over. Come to a consensus on who shall represent your people in the conflict to come. In the meantime, I am weary, and I can see that both of my companions are eager for rest, as well." Ridain leisurely reached his right hand out and, as if he recognized the gesture, Hiraeth, his white stag, approached, nuzzling his nose into it's master's hand who softly caressed the beasts snout with his fingers.