PhoenixMire
ᛚᚨᚦᚢ:ᚹᛁᛞᚢᛉ:ᛖᚱᚦᛟ
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Fantasy Poisoned Land - [ Zazz & Phoenix ]
- Thread starter PhoenixMire
- Start date
PhoenixMire
ᛚᚨᚦᚢ:ᚹᛁᛞᚢᛉ:ᛖᚱᚦᛟ
A bitter chill crept through even the thick gray furs draped over the elf woman's shoulders. Winter should have been chased away by spring's warmth a while ago, but that had not happened. A few trees were blooming - some pink flowers budded on spindly branches here and there, and a few trees in particular boasted beautiful green leaves. Perhaps not all was lost. Not yet, anyway.
Sylven glanced to the two elven men following her. One, with light brown hair, met her eyes and tried a smile; the other kept his golden gaze fixed forward. They had been walking for quite some time, even by Sylven's standards, and her feet were beginning to ache a little. But they could not stop now. Her clan - the Virdan - needed help... as much as it pained her to admit it. So the clanmother had directed Sylven to take two strong hunters and seek aid from the somewhat infamous clan to the northwest.
They would be nearing their destination now. The strong smell of smoke hung in the air, and Sylven wrinkled her nose at it. She and her escort passed through the trees and into a clearing, and there it was - the fortress home to the pariah clan, strong and yet broken all at once, a tendril of smoke rising into the air from some unseen tower. She heard one of the elven hunters scoff behind her at the sight.
"How could they live this way?" he grumbled.
"We will be gracious, Tethran," Sylven said quietly, shooting the young elf a look that silenced him immediately. He turned his golden eyes away and nodded.
Sylven approached the gates of the fortress Duindôrin, bowing her head to the guards there and resting her oaken magic staff upon the ground, as a symbol of her friendly intent. Or would these elves even recognize this type of greeting? They were not known for following the ways of the ancestors... Sylven pushed the thoughts away and raised her head again. "I am Sylven, clanmaid to Virdan, of the southwest forest and plains." Questions and doubts filled her mind now. Did these elves even know what a clanmaid was? Where Virdan lay? Would they hurt her for the next sentence she was about to speak? She pushed on despite her reservations. "I will be forward. I have come seeking help for a grave matter."
Sylven glanced to the two elven men following her. One, with light brown hair, met her eyes and tried a smile; the other kept his golden gaze fixed forward. They had been walking for quite some time, even by Sylven's standards, and her feet were beginning to ache a little. But they could not stop now. Her clan - the Virdan - needed help... as much as it pained her to admit it. So the clanmother had directed Sylven to take two strong hunters and seek aid from the somewhat infamous clan to the northwest.
They would be nearing their destination now. The strong smell of smoke hung in the air, and Sylven wrinkled her nose at it. She and her escort passed through the trees and into a clearing, and there it was - the fortress home to the pariah clan, strong and yet broken all at once, a tendril of smoke rising into the air from some unseen tower. She heard one of the elven hunters scoff behind her at the sight.
"How could they live this way?" he grumbled.
"We will be gracious, Tethran," Sylven said quietly, shooting the young elf a look that silenced him immediately. He turned his golden eyes away and nodded.
Sylven approached the gates of the fortress Duindôrin, bowing her head to the guards there and resting her oaken magic staff upon the ground, as a symbol of her friendly intent. Or would these elves even recognize this type of greeting? They were not known for following the ways of the ancestors... Sylven pushed the thoughts away and raised her head again. "I am Sylven, clanmaid to Virdan, of the southwest forest and plains." Questions and doubts filled her mind now. Did these elves even know what a clanmaid was? Where Virdan lay? Would they hurt her for the next sentence she was about to speak? She pushed on despite her reservations. "I will be forward. I have come seeking help for a grave matter."
Zazz
The Pickliest Bean
The people of Duindôr were quite active behind the great stone walls of their fortress, as the three Virdan could likely hear. Dead carcasses being flayed and roasted for cloth and food. Children carrying wooden buckets full of sloshing water. Elves in full armor, training with a myriad of weapons.
One of the gate guards sized up the newcomers, tapping the heavily trodden dirt with the butt of his spear. After a brief glance upward at one of the archers on the wall, who shrugged, the guard sighed and gestured towards the open entry.
"Aye, pick up yer stick an' be off. You'll want the big red door up yonder. The council's likely still flappin' their yammerers." He whistled abruptly. "Oi, Brandyl! Come take these, uh.. this maid an' 'er folks up to the council!"
Brandyl, a young elf man dressed in what seemed to be a simple, dull green tunic and many, many leather straps with many, many pockets left the mushrooms he had been tending to and promptly ran over to the gate, nearly tripping over a part of the ground that wasn't quite smooth.
"Coming! Coming, I- Sorry, I've got-" He glanced between the woman, her companions, and the mushrooms in his hands. "Ah, hello, just... One.. moment..." Brandyl managed to get the fungi into a little pouch and tuck it away. He wiped his hands on his shirt and bowed. "Come, I'll show you the way. Brandyl. That's, uh, that's my name," he babbled, leading Sylven through the chaos towards the red door.
The boy had the pointy canines of his people, despite being a twig of a man. He smiled as he spoke, telling the newcomers all about how they never really got visitors from the other elven clans, that they were often the ones to venture out to human cities to trade. The orcs were far too active in the area for most to survive.
They came to a halt before an intricately carved wooden door. It clashed with the brutish nature of its surroundings, and when Brandyl knocked upon it, it opened to reveal an equally out of place round table made entirely of shiny, silvery metal. It, too, was engraved with twisting vines and dragons. Around it sat five, dressed in both fine cloth and armor. All heads turned towards the door.
"Councilors, forgive me, ah.. We have a guest."
One of the gate guards sized up the newcomers, tapping the heavily trodden dirt with the butt of his spear. After a brief glance upward at one of the archers on the wall, who shrugged, the guard sighed and gestured towards the open entry.
"Aye, pick up yer stick an' be off. You'll want the big red door up yonder. The council's likely still flappin' their yammerers." He whistled abruptly. "Oi, Brandyl! Come take these, uh.. this maid an' 'er folks up to the council!"
Brandyl, a young elf man dressed in what seemed to be a simple, dull green tunic and many, many leather straps with many, many pockets left the mushrooms he had been tending to and promptly ran over to the gate, nearly tripping over a part of the ground that wasn't quite smooth.
"Coming! Coming, I- Sorry, I've got-" He glanced between the woman, her companions, and the mushrooms in his hands. "Ah, hello, just... One.. moment..." Brandyl managed to get the fungi into a little pouch and tuck it away. He wiped his hands on his shirt and bowed. "Come, I'll show you the way. Brandyl. That's, uh, that's my name," he babbled, leading Sylven through the chaos towards the red door.
The boy had the pointy canines of his people, despite being a twig of a man. He smiled as he spoke, telling the newcomers all about how they never really got visitors from the other elven clans, that they were often the ones to venture out to human cities to trade. The orcs were far too active in the area for most to survive.
They came to a halt before an intricately carved wooden door. It clashed with the brutish nature of its surroundings, and when Brandyl knocked upon it, it opened to reveal an equally out of place round table made entirely of shiny, silvery metal. It, too, was engraved with twisting vines and dragons. Around it sat five, dressed in both fine cloth and armor. All heads turned towards the door.
"Councilors, forgive me, ah.. We have a guest."
PhoenixMire
ᛚᚨᚦᚢ:ᚹᛁᛞᚢᛉ:ᛖᚱᚦᛟ
The gate guard’s blunt manner made Sylven raise a brow, but she still bowed her head in thanks. She cast a quick glance over her shoulder to her companions; Tethran stood stoically, expressionless, while the elf with light brown hair - Veyen - met the clanmaid’s eyes with a nervous frown.
A Duindôr elf came to greet them, and in spite of her discomfort, Sylven pasted a smile on her face and inclined her head towards the young man. “Thank you for your hospitality,” she said, though the words felt a little empty and rehearsed. At least this young elf seemed kind. “I am Sylven. These are two of my clan’s hunters - Tethran and Veyen.” They both bowed their heads when Sylven motioned to them.
They followed Brandyl through the bustling fortress. Sylven watched her surroundings with her green eyes sharp and wary; this place was unfamiliar and unwelcoming, and she couldn’t help feeling as if she were walking into the belly of a beast. Her steps were quick, her posture tense as she trailed after her guide. Would these elves even help her? No matter. She had to ask regardless.
When presented with the room of five councilors, Sylven once again lowered her head and placed her staff upon the ground. Somehow it felt wrong to leave the oaken branch there, upon the cold stone floor, so she was eager to pick it up again and feel its familiar weight in her hand.
“Greetings from Virdan,” Sylven began. “I am Sylven, clanmaid, and these are two of Virdan’s finest hunters, Tethran and Veyen. We… come seeking aid.” She hesitated a moment, shifting her weight and looking nervously between the five armor-clad elves before her. “Surely you have noticed the sickness upon the land. It only worsens with each passing year, and our efforts to find its source have been in vain. We have a few guesses left as to where this plague may be coming from, but… we are not… warriors.” She pressed her lips together. “Virdan would ask your help in accompanying us to end this sickness once and for all. We have things to trade in return for your help. Shall we discuss further?”
A Duindôr elf came to greet them, and in spite of her discomfort, Sylven pasted a smile on her face and inclined her head towards the young man. “Thank you for your hospitality,” she said, though the words felt a little empty and rehearsed. At least this young elf seemed kind. “I am Sylven. These are two of my clan’s hunters - Tethran and Veyen.” They both bowed their heads when Sylven motioned to them.
They followed Brandyl through the bustling fortress. Sylven watched her surroundings with her green eyes sharp and wary; this place was unfamiliar and unwelcoming, and she couldn’t help feeling as if she were walking into the belly of a beast. Her steps were quick, her posture tense as she trailed after her guide. Would these elves even help her? No matter. She had to ask regardless.
When presented with the room of five councilors, Sylven once again lowered her head and placed her staff upon the ground. Somehow it felt wrong to leave the oaken branch there, upon the cold stone floor, so she was eager to pick it up again and feel its familiar weight in her hand.
“Greetings from Virdan,” Sylven began. “I am Sylven, clanmaid, and these are two of Virdan’s finest hunters, Tethran and Veyen. We… come seeking aid.” She hesitated a moment, shifting her weight and looking nervously between the five armor-clad elves before her. “Surely you have noticed the sickness upon the land. It only worsens with each passing year, and our efforts to find its source have been in vain. We have a few guesses left as to where this plague may be coming from, but… we are not… warriors.” She pressed her lips together. “Virdan would ask your help in accompanying us to end this sickness once and for all. We have things to trade in return for your help. Shall we discuss further?”
Zazz
The Pickliest Bean
Sylven was met with several judging pairs of eyes. One elf stood to bow, though never lowered his gaze from the foreigner. "Welcome, 'Sylven, clanmaid' of Verdan," said he, in a way that might have been either respectful or mocking... Or both. It was hard to tell from the silver-haired elf's face; his expression seemed welcoming, but his eyes screamed of distrust.
He gestured to his own seat. "Sit, let us discuss your trade."
Two others, a woman with calloused hands and a man clad in heavy, black armor stood to let Tethran and Veyen sit, as well. The remaining two shuffled over to make more room at the round table. All of them looked suspicious of their visitors. Brandyl smiled brightly and tilted his head in encouragement.
He gestured to his own seat. "Sit, let us discuss your trade."
Two others, a woman with calloused hands and a man clad in heavy, black armor stood to let Tethran and Veyen sit, as well. The remaining two shuffled over to make more room at the round table. All of them looked suspicious of their visitors. Brandyl smiled brightly and tilted his head in encouragement.
PhoenixMire
ᛚᚨᚦᚢ:ᚹᛁᛞᚢᛉ:ᛖᚱᚦᛟ
Sylven stared, motionless and expressionless, as the silver haired elf welcomed her. Sort of. She didn’t feel very welcomed - each set of eyes on her felt increasingly cold and judging with each passing second. Still, the clanmaid steeled herself and sat, motioning for the hunters to follow her lead.
“Thank you for your willingness to discuss.” Sylven clutched her staff tightly, taking some small measure of comfort from its familiar rough shape against her palm. “The Virdan clanmother and I have spent quite a long time agonizing over what could be causing this plague across the land. Each year, more trees die, the herds across the plains grow scarce, and the land does not heed my call as it used to. We have searched for answers and found very little.
“However, we are… limited in our search.” Sylven leaned forward, resting her staff across her lap and lacing her fingers together on the table. “Our hunters are strong, and we take pride in their abilities. But they are not… warriors. We’ve heard much of your clan and your fighting prowess, and we require aid. In return for this aid, we can offer our finest unicorn breeding pair. Our unicorns are the envy across many clans of the south. They are strong protectors, hardy, and could be invaluable to your needs. If you require more than this as payment, we may discuss it.”
Sylven swallowed, trying not to allow her nerves to get the better of her. Their unicorns were Virdan’s pride and joy, but would these strange Duindôr elves even care? If not, Virdan did not have much else to offer, but both Sylven and the clanmother agreed something had to be done. An agreement had to be reached.
So she continued. “How much do you know of the Dread Caverns beneath the Lirya Mountains?” Sylven watched the councilors carefully. She did not know how much of the ancient elven stories and histories they knew; Duindôr’s culture was far removed from the other elven clans, after all. She wondered how much she’d have to explain.
“Thank you for your willingness to discuss.” Sylven clutched her staff tightly, taking some small measure of comfort from its familiar rough shape against her palm. “The Virdan clanmother and I have spent quite a long time agonizing over what could be causing this plague across the land. Each year, more trees die, the herds across the plains grow scarce, and the land does not heed my call as it used to. We have searched for answers and found very little.
“However, we are… limited in our search.” Sylven leaned forward, resting her staff across her lap and lacing her fingers together on the table. “Our hunters are strong, and we take pride in their abilities. But they are not… warriors. We’ve heard much of your clan and your fighting prowess, and we require aid. In return for this aid, we can offer our finest unicorn breeding pair. Our unicorns are the envy across many clans of the south. They are strong protectors, hardy, and could be invaluable to your needs. If you require more than this as payment, we may discuss it.”
Sylven swallowed, trying not to allow her nerves to get the better of her. Their unicorns were Virdan’s pride and joy, but would these strange Duindôr elves even care? If not, Virdan did not have much else to offer, but both Sylven and the clanmother agreed something had to be done. An agreement had to be reached.
So she continued. “How much do you know of the Dread Caverns beneath the Lirya Mountains?” Sylven watched the councilors carefully. She did not know how much of the ancient elven stories and histories they knew; Duindôr’s culture was far removed from the other elven clans, after all. She wondered how much she’d have to explain.
Zazz
The Pickliest Bean
The councilors remained quiet as she spoke, listening intently. They had, indeed, heard tales from other settlements of the Virdan and their horned horses, but they did not, after all, particularly care. They were at war, and living things, no matter how beautiful, died. Though, perhaps they could be raised for meat.
Upon the mention of the Dread Caverns, the Virdan were met with several uninterested faces. One, an older man in subtly richer clothing, though, asked curiously, "What of them?" He had heard of them back in his active trading days. "I remember very little. Remind us."
Upon the mention of the Dread Caverns, the Virdan were met with several uninterested faces. One, an older man in subtly richer clothing, though, asked curiously, "What of them?" He had heard of them back in his active trading days. "I remember very little. Remind us."
PhoenixMire
ᛚᚨᚦᚢ:ᚹᛁᛞᚢᛉ:ᛖᚱᚦᛟ
Sylven sighed quietly through her nose, already feeling that this venture was useless. These elves seemed closed off. She straightened her posture, however, and continued on anyway.
“My clan, and many others, have long told stories of the Dread Caverns. An ancient elvish clan grew too close to the humans near the Lirya Mountains, and became obsessed with riches the way humans are. Desperate for more and more riches to trade with the humans, these ancient elves scoured the mountains for gemstones. Each excursion led them deeper and deeper into the earth, until they found themselves in the Dread Caverns.
“It was there that the ancient elves found a strange type of dragon, twisted by millennia slithering through dark tunnels. These dragons were not pleased to see the elves. A long and desperate battle broke out, a battle the elves were too arrogant to give up on - they craved the jewels the dragons hoarded, and sent more and more elves to their death in a vain attempt to defeat the dark dragons. After many years, the clan went extinct, and still their bones lie in the Dread Caverns.”
Sylven idly ran her finger along the gnarled texture of her staff as she spoke. “This is the way Virdan tells the tale. Other clans speak differently. Perhaps it was not dragons, but strange shadowy demons, or even the elves themselves turned against each other and fought to extinction. Regardless of the telling, one thing is clear - the Caverns are cursed. So much death and greed and destruction tainted the earth there. It is where we want to search next for the source of the plague. But… the Dread Caverns are dangerous.” Sylven averted her eyes, her pride hating the words she had to speak next. “Virdan is not a large clan. We have no warriors. We do not dare venture alone into the Dread Caverns, and so we come to you, for help.”
“My clan, and many others, have long told stories of the Dread Caverns. An ancient elvish clan grew too close to the humans near the Lirya Mountains, and became obsessed with riches the way humans are. Desperate for more and more riches to trade with the humans, these ancient elves scoured the mountains for gemstones. Each excursion led them deeper and deeper into the earth, until they found themselves in the Dread Caverns.
“It was there that the ancient elves found a strange type of dragon, twisted by millennia slithering through dark tunnels. These dragons were not pleased to see the elves. A long and desperate battle broke out, a battle the elves were too arrogant to give up on - they craved the jewels the dragons hoarded, and sent more and more elves to their death in a vain attempt to defeat the dark dragons. After many years, the clan went extinct, and still their bones lie in the Dread Caverns.”
Sylven idly ran her finger along the gnarled texture of her staff as she spoke. “This is the way Virdan tells the tale. Other clans speak differently. Perhaps it was not dragons, but strange shadowy demons, or even the elves themselves turned against each other and fought to extinction. Regardless of the telling, one thing is clear - the Caverns are cursed. So much death and greed and destruction tainted the earth there. It is where we want to search next for the source of the plague. But… the Dread Caverns are dangerous.” Sylven averted her eyes, her pride hating the words she had to speak next. “Virdan is not a large clan. We have no warriors. We do not dare venture alone into the Dread Caverns, and so we come to you, for help.”
Zazz
The Pickliest Bean
The councilors looked between each other as Sylven told her tale. The woman with calloused hands furrowed her brow, showing some actual concern. The old trader leaned back in his chair, tapping the tips of his fingers on the table as he met eyes with the standing man in heavy armor.
Just then, a loud clamoring sounded beyond the door, laughter and the clank of boots coming closer. "Ahh, they're back," said the first councilor. Brandyl, who had not yet been dismissed, opened the door just in time to let in a bloodsoaked party of four in dark, heavy armor. At the lead was a woman not much older than the Virdan clanmaid, eyes shining and blood spattered across her face. All five councilors looked up.
"We got six of theirs. Lost Galathi." Azaria set her piercing gaze upon the three newcomers, settling on Sylven. "Who's this, then?"
The councilors were quiet for a moment, communicating silently with barely perceptible nods, until the man in heavy armor spoke. "Your new companions." Azaria raised an eyebrow. "You're off to the Dread Caverns with this.. clanmaid.. of the Virdan. Choose one other to join you, and..." His eyes darted to the Brandyl at the door. "And take the lad with you. It's time he earned his stripes."
"And get yourselves a bath," said the calloused blacksmith. "Go on, you three. Azaria and Brandyl will show you the way and get you fed. Go."
Brandyl's eyes were wide. He'd never been on a proper quest, nor in a proper battle. Azaria grinned at him, and clapped him on the shoulder. To the three guests, "Let's go."
Just then, a loud clamoring sounded beyond the door, laughter and the clank of boots coming closer. "Ahh, they're back," said the first councilor. Brandyl, who had not yet been dismissed, opened the door just in time to let in a bloodsoaked party of four in dark, heavy armor. At the lead was a woman not much older than the Virdan clanmaid, eyes shining and blood spattered across her face. All five councilors looked up.
"We got six of theirs. Lost Galathi." Azaria set her piercing gaze upon the three newcomers, settling on Sylven. "Who's this, then?"
The councilors were quiet for a moment, communicating silently with barely perceptible nods, until the man in heavy armor spoke. "Your new companions." Azaria raised an eyebrow. "You're off to the Dread Caverns with this.. clanmaid.. of the Virdan. Choose one other to join you, and..." His eyes darted to the Brandyl at the door. "And take the lad with you. It's time he earned his stripes."
"And get yourselves a bath," said the calloused blacksmith. "Go on, you three. Azaria and Brandyl will show you the way and get you fed. Go."
Brandyl's eyes were wide. He'd never been on a proper quest, nor in a proper battle. Azaria grinned at him, and clapped him on the shoulder. To the three guests, "Let's go."
PhoenixMire
ᛚᚨᚦᚢ:ᚹᛁᛞᚢᛉ:ᛖᚱᚦᛟ
A sudden clamor made Sylven jump a little. She lifted her gaze as the door opened, revealing a group of warriors covered in blood. She couldn’t help wrinkling her nose at the sight. Sure, she was used to skinning animals and roasting their meat, but hunting was different than battle. The thought that these elves had just returned from a fight made her uneasy. Such violence. Could she truly trust them?
What other choice did she have?
Sylven stood, bowing her head respectfully, and motioned for her companions to stand and follow her as well. When her name was not even mentioned in her introduction, Sylven tried not to frown. “I am Sylven. As you’ve heard, I am clanmaid of Virdan. These are two of our best hunters, Tethran and Veyen.”
At the warrior woman’s bidding, Sylven nodded, following her guide through the fortress. “Azaria, then?” she asked. “As soon as you’ve… gotten cleaned up, perhaps we should discuss details of this mission.”
What other choice did she have?
Sylven stood, bowing her head respectfully, and motioned for her companions to stand and follow her as well. When her name was not even mentioned in her introduction, Sylven tried not to frown. “I am Sylven. As you’ve heard, I am clanmaid of Virdan. These are two of our best hunters, Tethran and Veyen.”
At the warrior woman’s bidding, Sylven nodded, following her guide through the fortress. “Azaria, then?” she asked. “As soon as you’ve… gotten cleaned up, perhaps we should discuss details of this mission.”
Zazz
The Pickliest Bean
Azaria glanced over her shoulder at Sylven with nothing less than a smirk. "What's a maid doing, wandering these woods? What, your hunters are too high and mighty to wash their own underwear?" The other three warriors snickered. Brandyl followed behind quietly, doing his best to not step on the feet of neither Tethran nor Veyen.
They wound through the fort and came to a large, steamy room. A large pool of water took up half the room, the air at its surface foggy. "Towels are there. Here is soap," Azaria said before promptly removing her armor. The men with her did the same, removed their clothes unashamedly, and stepped into the pool. They seemed entirely unaware that not all people bathed together, and might therefore be uncomfortable.
Brandyl kindly offered to hold Sylven's staff, not knowing what it actually was. Meanwhile, Azaria, now also bare, joined her war party in the water. "Haethryl will be coming with us," she stated, tilting her head towards a man with deep violet eyes. She watched Sylven curiously, waiting for the three Virdan to join them, while Haethryl began the process of washing out the blood from Azaria's hair.
They wound through the fort and came to a large, steamy room. A large pool of water took up half the room, the air at its surface foggy. "Towels are there. Here is soap," Azaria said before promptly removing her armor. The men with her did the same, removed their clothes unashamedly, and stepped into the pool. They seemed entirely unaware that not all people bathed together, and might therefore be uncomfortable.
Brandyl kindly offered to hold Sylven's staff, not knowing what it actually was. Meanwhile, Azaria, now also bare, joined her war party in the water. "Haethryl will be coming with us," she stated, tilting her head towards a man with deep violet eyes. She watched Sylven curiously, waiting for the three Virdan to join them, while Haethryl began the process of washing out the blood from Azaria's hair.
PhoenixMire
ᛚᚨᚦᚢ:ᚹᛁᛞᚢᛉ:ᛖᚱᚦᛟ
Terhran’s golden eyes flashed in anger. “How dare you?” he spat. “You will show Lady Sylven the proper respect.”
Sylven raised a hand to silence him. “Quiet, Tethran. We will be civil.” Internally, she was seething, but she knew she had to try her hardest to keep relations decent. Still, she couldn’t help a more subtle jab - “Perhaps your ways are so different from our ancestors that you do not realize what a clanmaid is? I am next in line to lead, after the clanmother - she is the one who stands at the head of the clan, a wise and wonderful ruler to the Virdan.”
Sylven could almost feel Tethran’s rage behind her. She cast a glance to Veyen, whose head was lowered, brown hair hiding his hazel eyes. He’d never dealt well with conflict.
Upon arriving at the baths, Sylven’s eyes sharpened suspiciously, especially when Brandyl offered to hold her oaken staff. What was this, some plot to force them to drop their guard? “I would rather not part with my staff,” she said to the young elf man, eyeing him cautiously. “And I do not bathe with strangers. … But thank you for the offer.” The thanks came across as very hollow and insincere. “I would rather discuss business.”
Sylven raised a hand to silence him. “Quiet, Tethran. We will be civil.” Internally, she was seething, but she knew she had to try her hardest to keep relations decent. Still, she couldn’t help a more subtle jab - “Perhaps your ways are so different from our ancestors that you do not realize what a clanmaid is? I am next in line to lead, after the clanmother - she is the one who stands at the head of the clan, a wise and wonderful ruler to the Virdan.”
Sylven could almost feel Tethran’s rage behind her. She cast a glance to Veyen, whose head was lowered, brown hair hiding his hazel eyes. He’d never dealt well with conflict.
Upon arriving at the baths, Sylven’s eyes sharpened suspiciously, especially when Brandyl offered to hold her oaken staff. What was this, some plot to force them to drop their guard? “I would rather not part with my staff,” she said to the young elf man, eyeing him cautiously. “And I do not bathe with strangers. … But thank you for the offer.” The thanks came across as very hollow and insincere. “I would rather discuss business.”
Zazz
The Pickliest Bean
Azaria couldn't stop the rolling of her eyes. "Oh, yes, so wise and so wonderful." The other elven clans were weak. They had no warriors. The orcs would literally eat them.
Brandyl clasped his hands behind his back awkwardly. "I, uh... I meant no disrespect." He bowed his head slightly, and glanced at the angry-looking Virdan man.
Azaria shrugged, applying the soap to her arms. "Suit yourself, but I won't be held responsible if you three get eaten by an orc on account of your stink." She disappeared beneath the water's surface for a moment.
The young alchemist took a seat on a bench nearby and began cleaning off the warriors' armor. Idle hands, and all.
Having resurfaced, the water at about her chest, Azaria addressed the staff wielder again. "Business. What is your plan?"
Brandyl clasped his hands behind his back awkwardly. "I, uh... I meant no disrespect." He bowed his head slightly, and glanced at the angry-looking Virdan man.
Azaria shrugged, applying the soap to her arms. "Suit yourself, but I won't be held responsible if you three get eaten by an orc on account of your stink." She disappeared beneath the water's surface for a moment.
The young alchemist took a seat on a bench nearby and began cleaning off the warriors' armor. Idle hands, and all.
Having resurfaced, the water at about her chest, Azaria addressed the staff wielder again. "Business. What is your plan?"
PhoenixMire
ᛚᚨᚦᚢ:ᚹᛁᛞᚢᛉ:ᛖᚱᚦᛟ
Sylven resisted the urge to snap at this infuriating warrior elf. Respect... diplomacy... that was what the clanmother had drilled into her for so many years, and she didn't intend to let her mentor down now. She swallowed any smart remarks she wanted to make, and simply stood firm with staff in hand. She checked on her fellow clanmates; both of them had their gazes fixed on the floor, but for entirely different reasons, it seemed. Veyen was nervously shifting his weight, radiating a blatant feeling of discomfort. On the other hand, it was obvious Tethran was still seething, his hands clasped behind his back, eyes fixed on the stone floor and jaw clenched.
What a wonderful journey this had turned out to be. Sylven sighed and rubbed idly at the bridge of her nose.
"Yes. Business," she muttered. "As I said to your clan's elders, we have been researching a way to stop the plague falling upon the land. So far we have not had much luck. But the Dread Caverns would be a good place to turn next for answers - they are cursed, and have been the source of many of our ancestors' troubles. Unfortunately, our clan..." She said this next part through gritted teeth, wanting anything but to admit this to the brash elven woman. "Virdan is... not equipped to face the dangers of the Dread Caverns alone."
"I still think we'd be better off alone than with these barbarians," Tethran said quietly.
Sylven shot him a glare. He had not spoken loudly, but she'd be surprised if the other elves hadn't hard him regardless.
What a wonderful journey this had turned out to be. Sylven sighed and rubbed idly at the bridge of her nose.
"Yes. Business," she muttered. "As I said to your clan's elders, we have been researching a way to stop the plague falling upon the land. So far we have not had much luck. But the Dread Caverns would be a good place to turn next for answers - they are cursed, and have been the source of many of our ancestors' troubles. Unfortunately, our clan..." She said this next part through gritted teeth, wanting anything but to admit this to the brash elven woman. "Virdan is... not equipped to face the dangers of the Dread Caverns alone."
"I still think we'd be better off alone than with these barbarians," Tethran said quietly.
Sylven shot him a glare. He had not spoken loudly, but she'd be surprised if the other elves hadn't hard him regardless.
Zazz
The Pickliest Bean
Brandyl felt quite small in the midst of these warring women. He kept quietly to himself, cautiously watching the banter back and forth. Veyen, the younger Virdan, looked just as uncomfortable as he was, and Bran did his best to catch his eye and mouth an apology, tentatively patting the bench beside him.
Haethryl stood tall, the water just above his waist. "You'll be an orc's toothpick, without us barbarians." He stepped out of the pool and stood directly in front of Tethran. He was taller and broader, and he used his size to his advantage, before grabbing a towel and walking over to his armor to clean it.
Azaria spoke next. "Perhaps your 'wise and wonderful' mother should have considered the benefits of raising a stronger clan." She, too, rose from the depths, approaching Sylven. She gestured with a hand for the other two to get lost, and they begrudgingly left the cozy bathwater, taking their filthy armor with them. Once they were gone, she wrapped herself in a towel and told Sylven, "We'll protect your scrawny little bones. But we get first pickings of any loot." She looked at Tethran, a challenge in her eyes. "And you get in the bath."
Haethryl stood tall, the water just above his waist. "You'll be an orc's toothpick, without us barbarians." He stepped out of the pool and stood directly in front of Tethran. He was taller and broader, and he used his size to his advantage, before grabbing a towel and walking over to his armor to clean it.
Azaria spoke next. "Perhaps your 'wise and wonderful' mother should have considered the benefits of raising a stronger clan." She, too, rose from the depths, approaching Sylven. She gestured with a hand for the other two to get lost, and they begrudgingly left the cozy bathwater, taking their filthy armor with them. Once they were gone, she wrapped herself in a towel and told Sylven, "We'll protect your scrawny little bones. But we get first pickings of any loot." She looked at Tethran, a challenge in her eyes. "And you get in the bath."
PhoenixMire
ᛚᚨᚦᚢ:ᚹᛁᛞᚢᛉ:ᛖᚱᚦᛟ
Veyen glanced to the young elf man, catching his mouthed apology, and looked timidly at the bench he'd patted. Should he sit with this stranger? He looked back and forth between Sylven and Azaria before settling on the seat, giving a helplessly worried expression to Brandyl.
"Orcs? What do we care of your petty conflict with orcs?" Tethran spat. "We can handle ourselves, actually - I'd like to see you pin a fly to a tree from fifty yards. We can win any conflict with our bows, Lady Sylven, I never liked the idea of asking these barbarians for help."
"Tethran!" Sylven growled, louder than she'd meant to. "The clanmother sent me to negotiate. Keep your words to yourself."
Still visibly angry, but now with a hint of shame in his face, Tethran bowed his head and took a step back. Sylven, on the other hand, stepped forward, narrowing her eyes at Azaria. "I do not believe you are this clan's elder. My apologies, but I will not be making deals with anyone lacking the proper authority. We will bathe on our own time, thank you. Ah, but this loot. Yes, you'll find us Virdan are very close-knit and care deeply for one another and nature... not... loot. My goal is to cure the land of its poison - as yours should be as well, otherwise how can you live on ruined earth? - so yes. Take all the loot you desire. We could not care less."
Only after she had finished speaking did Sylven realize she was breathing harder than usual, allowing her anger to show in her tense posture more than she'd intended. Taking a quiet deep breath in through her nose, she flexed her fingers on her staff, trying to calm herself. She needed this process to go smoothly! If they angered this other clan too much, then things would fall apart more than they already had...
"Orcs? What do we care of your petty conflict with orcs?" Tethran spat. "We can handle ourselves, actually - I'd like to see you pin a fly to a tree from fifty yards. We can win any conflict with our bows, Lady Sylven, I never liked the idea of asking these barbarians for help."
"Tethran!" Sylven growled, louder than she'd meant to. "The clanmother sent me to negotiate. Keep your words to yourself."
Still visibly angry, but now with a hint of shame in his face, Tethran bowed his head and took a step back. Sylven, on the other hand, stepped forward, narrowing her eyes at Azaria. "I do not believe you are this clan's elder. My apologies, but I will not be making deals with anyone lacking the proper authority. We will bathe on our own time, thank you. Ah, but this loot. Yes, you'll find us Virdan are very close-knit and care deeply for one another and nature... not... loot. My goal is to cure the land of its poison - as yours should be as well, otherwise how can you live on ruined earth? - so yes. Take all the loot you desire. We could not care less."
Only after she had finished speaking did Sylven realize she was breathing harder than usual, allowing her anger to show in her tense posture more than she'd intended. Taking a quiet deep breath in through her nose, she flexed her fingers on her staff, trying to calm herself. She needed this process to go smoothly! If they angered this other clan too much, then things would fall apart more than they already had...
Zazz
The Pickliest Bean
Brandyl leaned in to speak to Veyen quietly. "Her father was actually on the council, before he was killed. Mum was a blacksmith, one of the finest, they say. They both died before I was born."
Azaria watched the dynamic between the two Vridan elves still standing. The were clearly far out of their comfort zones, and she found amusement in it. She placed a surprisingly gentle hand on Sylven's around the staff, stepping in close. "If you want us to risk our necks for you and the flyswatter," she said calmly, "you will learn to listen to the 'barbarians' you have asked for help. We will eat, and leave at dawn, so I suggest you wash the stink from your arse before you get us all killed."
Azaria watched the dynamic between the two Vridan elves still standing. The were clearly far out of their comfort zones, and she found amusement in it. She placed a surprisingly gentle hand on Sylven's around the staff, stepping in close. "If you want us to risk our necks for you and the flyswatter," she said calmly, "you will learn to listen to the 'barbarians' you have asked for help. We will eat, and leave at dawn, so I suggest you wash the stink from your arse before you get us all killed."
PhoenixMire
ᛚᚨᚦᚢ:ᚹᛁᛞᚢᛉ:ᛖᚱᚦᛟ
Veyen blinked at Brandyl, unable to figure out why he was saying all of this. He simply nodded, at a loss, then turned his gaze back to Azaria. Why did everyone else radiate such anger except Brandyl? Had everyone lost their families?
"Flyswatter!" Tethran hissed under his breath. It was clear he was holding back a furious remark.
Sylven was struggling to keep her composure as well. She bit the inside of her cheek at Azaria's touch. It took every little bit of willpower within her not to swat the woman's hand away and storm out of the room. She did not appreciate being treated like a child - were all Duindôr this condescending? "As you say," she said quietly, "but none of you will be in here with us as we clean up." Only then did she pull her hand away from Azaria, looking away from the other woman in order to hide the enraged glare on her face. She knew this wouldn't go well. These spirits-forsaken barbarians had not a shred of respect!
"Flyswatter!" Tethran hissed under his breath. It was clear he was holding back a furious remark.
Sylven was struggling to keep her composure as well. She bit the inside of her cheek at Azaria's touch. It took every little bit of willpower within her not to swat the woman's hand away and storm out of the room. She did not appreciate being treated like a child - were all Duindôr this condescending? "As you say," she said quietly, "but none of you will be in here with us as we clean up." Only then did she pull her hand away from Azaria, looking away from the other woman in order to hide the enraged glare on her face. She knew this wouldn't go well. These spirits-forsaken barbarians had not a shred of respect!
Zazz
The Pickliest Bean
The warrior elf smirked, knowing she had irked the other woman to her core. She had won. She turned to finish drying off, saying, "Of course. We'll be spending quite enough time together, I would love a break from your stench." Brandyl stood, nearly knocking a pauldron into the water. Haethryl, Azaria, and Brandyl gathered their things and left the Virdan alone.
Outside in a dressing room, the two warriors laughed together at the whole ordeal. Brandyl set off to deposit his pickings in the kitchens.
Outside in a dressing room, the two warriors laughed together at the whole ordeal. Brandyl set off to deposit his pickings in the kitchens.
PhoenixMire
ᛚᚨᚦᚢ:ᚹᛁᛞᚢᛉ:ᛖᚱᚦᛟ
Sylven stared icy daggers into Azaria's back as she and her miserable excuses for elves left the bathing room. How humiliating that entire experience had been! And yet she could do nothing about it! They needed the help... or did they really? Was Tethran right? Could they do this themselves?
She shook the thoughts away. This had already been discussed at length with the clanmother. They had to do this. Dropping the wolf fur from her shoulders and stripping down, Sylven's every movement was stiff and angry. The hunters accompanying her kept their eyes trained on their surroundings, watching for any threat as they were used to doing for their other clanmates - but this bathing situation was very different from the ones they were used to at home. Back in the Virdan woods, small groups would walk to the river and bathe, half of the group watching for possible attacks from the forest, then the other half of the group would switch roles once they were cleaned up. Here... here there was only cut stone and metal. There was no point watching for a bear to lunge forth from the trees; instead, the only thing on the three elves' mind was if one of the dreaded Duindôr would return.
"Barbarians!" Sylven spat as she scrubbed a little too harshly at her skin. "Disgusting, vile, violent, flippant, disrespectful -"
Tethran grinned. "My lady! I thought you were all about treating them with diplomacy?"
"Well, the pieces of sheep dung themselves aren't here right now, are they?" she huffed. "To their faces, we must remain as respectful as possible." She sucked in a deep breath through gritted teeth, not spending much time on washing out her hair before she stepped out of the water and toweled off. "I... apologize. I am supposed to be next in line to lead Virdan. I should be showing a better example, and for that, I am sorry. I simply... I - These Duindôr have no respect for their ancestors, for the land. This hideous rock fortress is a scar on these woods. They don't even act like elves. Have they no self-respect?"
Tethran shook his head. "I don't believe they do, my lady."
Sylven dressed quickly, briefly running her fingers through her messy mane of wet dark hair. "Whatever. Finish your baths quickly, if you can. I'd like to put this miserable day behind us."
She shook the thoughts away. This had already been discussed at length with the clanmother. They had to do this. Dropping the wolf fur from her shoulders and stripping down, Sylven's every movement was stiff and angry. The hunters accompanying her kept their eyes trained on their surroundings, watching for any threat as they were used to doing for their other clanmates - but this bathing situation was very different from the ones they were used to at home. Back in the Virdan woods, small groups would walk to the river and bathe, half of the group watching for possible attacks from the forest, then the other half of the group would switch roles once they were cleaned up. Here... here there was only cut stone and metal. There was no point watching for a bear to lunge forth from the trees; instead, the only thing on the three elves' mind was if one of the dreaded Duindôr would return.
"Barbarians!" Sylven spat as she scrubbed a little too harshly at her skin. "Disgusting, vile, violent, flippant, disrespectful -"
Tethran grinned. "My lady! I thought you were all about treating them with diplomacy?"
"Well, the pieces of sheep dung themselves aren't here right now, are they?" she huffed. "To their faces, we must remain as respectful as possible." She sucked in a deep breath through gritted teeth, not spending much time on washing out her hair before she stepped out of the water and toweled off. "I... apologize. I am supposed to be next in line to lead Virdan. I should be showing a better example, and for that, I am sorry. I simply... I - These Duindôr have no respect for their ancestors, for the land. This hideous rock fortress is a scar on these woods. They don't even act like elves. Have they no self-respect?"
Tethran shook his head. "I don't believe they do, my lady."
Sylven dressed quickly, briefly running her fingers through her messy mane of wet dark hair. "Whatever. Finish your baths quickly, if you can. I'd like to put this miserable day behind us."
Zazz
The Pickliest Bean
After all parties were sufficiently washed and clothed, Azaria could be found outside, sitting casually on a stump eating chunks of boar off of a skewer. She was surrounded by her peers, warriors marred with scars and debris, laughing at whatever jokes were being told. The air around her was lighter than it had been in the bathing room, and she almost seemed at peace.
She glanced at Sylven as the clanmaid came into view, and her smile faded, her pointed canines hiding from view.
Brandyl caught Veyen's arm gently, aiming to steer him and the others towards a small table near the roasting boar. "Hungry? There's roast boar and pickled beets and fresh mushrooms- I picked them just this afternoon."
She glanced at Sylven as the clanmaid came into view, and her smile faded, her pointed canines hiding from view.
Brandyl caught Veyen's arm gently, aiming to steer him and the others towards a small table near the roasting boar. "Hungry? There's roast boar and pickled beets and fresh mushrooms- I picked them just this afternoon."
PhoenixMire
ᛚᚨᚦᚢ:ᚹᛁᛞᚢᛉ:ᛖᚱᚦᛟ
Sylven and her party followed the aroma of cooked meat, the clanmaid's mouth watering at the smell. What was that? She turned a corner, finding a roasting boar, and for just a brief moment, forgot all of the day's troubles as thoughts of sinking her teeth into the delicious food filled her mind. But what was the Duindôr custom around mealtimes? Did certain elves have to eat before others? Could she simply... walk up the boar and grab some?
The young elf man - Brandyl, she thought his name was - guided Veyen towards the food, and Sylven followed. Tethran's eyes sharpened. "I don't know what you're playing at," he said to Brandyl in a low tone, "but get your hands off him."
Veyen swallowed, unable to formulate a response.
Sylven sighed. "Tethran." She rubbed her forehead, feeling suddenly like an old woman corralling children. Is this how the clanmother felt, all the time? Spirits' sake.
Finally Veyen managed to say something. "I'm fine, Tethran," he murmured. His voice had a shy, light tone to it, barely audible.
The young elf man - Brandyl, she thought his name was - guided Veyen towards the food, and Sylven followed. Tethran's eyes sharpened. "I don't know what you're playing at," he said to Brandyl in a low tone, "but get your hands off him."
Veyen swallowed, unable to formulate a response.
Sylven sighed. "Tethran." She rubbed her forehead, feeling suddenly like an old woman corralling children. Is this how the clanmother felt, all the time? Spirits' sake.
Finally Veyen managed to say something. "I'm fine, Tethran," he murmured. His voice had a shy, light tone to it, barely audible.
Zazz
The Pickliest Bean
Brandyl took his hand back in an instant, eyes wide as if Tethran might strike. "S-Sorry, I just..." He trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. When he though Tethran wasn't paying attention, he whispered to Veyen, "He's not very friendly, is he?"
He led them to a greying man at the roast, who bore them each some skewers loaded with boar. He looked over Sylven's staff, then her perfectly unbroken legs, in confusion, but shrugged it off and went back to his business of feeding the clan.
"Ah, L-lady Sylven, may I ask... What is that, exactly?" Brandyl pointed to her staff, taking a seat next to the trio.
He led them to a greying man at the roast, who bore them each some skewers loaded with boar. He looked over Sylven's staff, then her perfectly unbroken legs, in confusion, but shrugged it off and went back to his business of feeding the clan.
"Ah, L-lady Sylven, may I ask... What is that, exactly?" Brandyl pointed to her staff, taking a seat next to the trio.
PhoenixMire
ᛚᚨᚦᚢ:ᚹᛁᛞᚢᛉ:ᛖᚱᚦᛟ
Tethran murmured a very insincere apology, but kept his gaze fixed on Brandyl, as if expecting him to attack any moment. Veyen actually smiled at the Duindôr's whispered comment. He said nothing in reply, merely covered his mouth with a fist to hide a small snicker.
Sylven thanked the older elf as he handed her skewers of boar, lightly inclining her head to him. She took a seat on a log, tearing eagerly into the meat, savoring the perfect roast. At least these barbarian elves knew how to cook! The two Virdan hunters took their own servings of food and sat beside their clanmaid to feast.
Sylven looked up in mild surprise at Brandyl's words. Not so much at his question, but at him actually calling her Lady Sylven. What was with this young elf? Why was he the only one in the entire clan with some decency? She smiled, resting her staff across her lap. "It is an oaken branch, treated with Virdan magic to help focus my power." She cocked her head a little to the side. "Some members of the clan are chosen from a young age to hone their nature magic. Every clanmaid and clanmother must be a master of this magic. It helps us restore the lands we travel, to keep things healthy and blooming... and, in certain situations, can be used for self defense. Do you not have similar traditions here?"
Sylven thanked the older elf as he handed her skewers of boar, lightly inclining her head to him. She took a seat on a log, tearing eagerly into the meat, savoring the perfect roast. At least these barbarian elves knew how to cook! The two Virdan hunters took their own servings of food and sat beside their clanmaid to feast.
Sylven looked up in mild surprise at Brandyl's words. Not so much at his question, but at him actually calling her Lady Sylven. What was with this young elf? Why was he the only one in the entire clan with some decency? She smiled, resting her staff across her lap. "It is an oaken branch, treated with Virdan magic to help focus my power." She cocked her head a little to the side. "Some members of the clan are chosen from a young age to hone their nature magic. Every clanmaid and clanmother must be a master of this magic. It helps us restore the lands we travel, to keep things healthy and blooming... and, in certain situations, can be used for self defense. Do you not have similar traditions here?"
Zazz
The Pickliest Bean
The young man listened with interest. Magic? His kind only knew brute strength and war. The things he could do, the plants he could grow with magic. Brandyl shook his head. "No, our people do without magic, here. Many of our ancestors were lost to the orcs. Perhaps they had magic?"
The cook chimed in. "There's a theory the Ancestors died before they could pass it on, and so the power died with 'em. The blacksmiths, though? That's some magic they craft, I tell ye. Armor thin as paper'll save yer life."
"That's Endorin. He's got some magic in his fires, for sure," said Brandyl with a hearty smile. The cook winked and gave a chuckle.
"In all seriousness, we've noticed the change, too," said Brandyl, brows knit. "And without magic to heal the land, it's... tough."
The cook chimed in. "There's a theory the Ancestors died before they could pass it on, and so the power died with 'em. The blacksmiths, though? That's some magic they craft, I tell ye. Armor thin as paper'll save yer life."
"That's Endorin. He's got some magic in his fires, for sure," said Brandyl with a hearty smile. The cook winked and gave a chuckle.
"In all seriousness, we've noticed the change, too," said Brandyl, brows knit. "And without magic to heal the land, it's... tough."
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