Simple Missions [Open/Minerva]

[Mn`dharrowrynn]

TS: Late Fall; Junctior

"You've been away long." Ilmaryn moved close to Mn`dharrowrynn, reaching out to clasp her arm before she had slung her things to the ground. Dust filtered up, creating a transluscent barrier between the both of them. She smiled softly, then let his hand close around her wrist before she had time to stand up straight and dust herself off. His embrace was warm and perfumed, full of high eires and woodland welcome. That was why she couldn't understand what brought about her uneasiness, and distance. She feigned delight, but her dark eyes stared through him. He couldn't tell, for her gaze was encompassing, and he never knew when she was there or when she was traveling in his presence.
"I would have stayed longer." She didn't say it to hurt him, but she liked the way the words came out at that moment. "My cousins from Clan Sunsong rally to defend their homes in the Maevewood. Orcs are on the march in Sheria." She turned from his touch to begin unpacking some precious few things.
"I did not orchestrate your return, seler'amin Mn`dharrowrynn, you must believe that. But I was not displeased to hear Master Gilthendor order your summons." He smiled and watched her, thinking of something clever to say, but altogether emptied by her mood, and finding only retreat into the topic at hand a safe bet for the time. "He has a mission for you to carry out in the clans name." She tilted her head curiously, her eyes alert as she listened and unfolded a few worn travel garments. "Master Gilthendor wishes to position you in Arium-"
"Vortex."
"Yes. It appears our efforts to frustrate the human forces of Imperia have been successful, but require a counterbalance for completion to be realized. We have also lost allies and family."
"And it pleases you that he asks me to join our kin and comrades in the dark city?"
"I can travel and be close when needed."
She smiled, but saw no strength or outstanding quality to reassure her of any safety in Ilmaryns claim. She saw the youth in his eyes, and in his patriotic tone a desperation that separated the elves from the rest of the world. Something had to change. She would go, but she would do things differently. Personal ambition and the fear of a House or Clan collapse would not mitigate the efforts she put forth. It was easier said than done.
"Thank you. That will be some consolation."
"I am sure Master Gilthendor will counsel with you in his own good time, but may I ask, will you walk with me in the gardens before the night is out?"
"I will, Ilmaryn." Her hands finally ceased busying themselves. She could see him standing beside her, floating adrift her essence and swimming in her thoughts. He could never be free unless she left, and this was also why Vortex would be necessary. Mn`dharrowrynn had felt it coming, had known it would have been something like this to draw her up from the quiet shelter of her homeland in the Dolwood. Family.
She laughed, and Ilmaryn responded with an arch of his brow, to which she merely grinned and took his arm to lead them both out into the trellis tree paths lining the misty Restwoods.
"It is good to see you, even if for a short time." Mn`dharrowrynn smiled and gave a thoughtful touch to his arm, resting her hand around it.
"It is good to see you, too, Ilmaryn, even if for a short time." The simplicity of her response spoke volumes, and inside she knew she had been blessed to have a familiar face awaiting her arrival. Vortex would afford her no such recollection of that luxury, or memory of such a far-fond pleasure.

*****

The stammer and neigh of horses; dust spiraling upward in the quick gales, blown out across the skirted rush and fen lining the eastern journey to Vortex compounded the atmosphere of departure in the air. Elves of all walk, stock, and intent criss-crossed the direct perimeter outside the Sapphire Stream gate. Wagonbays for the delivering and transporting of goods kept the pulse quickened, demanding everyone stay active before that final push to whatever destination fate compelled them with. The high pitch of day was upon them, and while her superiors had detailed this brightening and prepared her departure in advance, they could have never predicted the peculiar meanders of the caravan route. Despite endless probing Mn`dharrowrynn could not acquire a caravan with safe numbers heading directly toward Vortex; there were back-tracking stops outside Arakmat, Kyathis, Nadir, then Frigid River and High Peak before the circuit rounded up to Vortex. It was enough to leave her crestfallen. Embracing of the delay, she took comfort that movement and some travel was a quiet longing she had forbade herself since returning from the destruction wrought by Herrozal and the undead upon Acumin. She wondered now, at that moment, while perched against the tethers of her departure-pending caravan circle -- one hand absently combing the mane of the beast at her side -- whether there was a correlation between the grieving that had turned to dwelling, and the clutching of the blade, and how the experiences seemed to clasp one another in a joining grip. Turning away from the thought, she visored her eyes and studied the northern passage, knowing full well she would have to camp if she did not arrive by earliest dawn because the Clan was very specific about her approaching the gates around the busiest, and brightest, and most conjested candlemarks of caravan traffic, so as to blend and be quick for the The Golden Dragon Inn. Was that the inn? She licked her lips, suddenly parched by the thought.

*****

Nightfall; Caravan en route to High Peak

The mountainscapes of eastern Lauryl were awe-inspiring, and filled with fiery gusts and a scarred bite in the fluctuating temptures. Cloak drawn tightly around her, she plunged forth with the other caravaneers, turning her thoughts toward the expanse of green, thinking every moment of her woodland memory; Dolwood, Syl'rosya, Yew, Maevewood, Pegasi, or her beloved Restwood, and the Mistmoor Haunts. It was all she could do to remedy the strange parade of emotions running rampant through her. She wondered about the lost elves of Clan Aravanya's first sortie into Vortex. It seemed insane to think there might be survivors, and yet, she didn't doubt that it could be possible, at least if Master Gilthendor felt it was worth investigating, perhaps there was reason to foster hope; still, he obviously knew the right person to ask, for neither House Edaanis nor Clan Aravanya would risk any further rescue. Her brow cinched at the thought, and she wrested her mind toward memories of the forest, remembering, as she watched these awesome pallisades birthed from the Great Mountain, that she would be far from any forest of comfort for some time. She felt as if the clan asked much, though her actions created rumors insisting her independence and relenting from the circles of her community. Vortex would take a year, perhaps more from her.
"These mountains are vast, Sistandir. One could find room for all their thoughts, with space to spare." Chuckling absently, though alone in her thoughts, and desperate enough to grope at the company of the nearest of three elven escorts sent along with her.
"One could get lost in their thoughts while wandering these mountains." The group of elves shared a laugh, murmuring back to a dull silence that had them searching for anything to occupy their eyes. Mn`dharrowrynn noticed all the different people from the different cities they had passed through on their return circuit, changing people from place to place, losing some, or gaining some, until all but a few of the faces around her were unrecognizeable.
"The mountains have their own beauty."
"Uma, seler'amin, they are stoic and with-standing." Mn`dharrowrynn smiled to the elf beside her, a young retainer from her clan, coming from another family, one she liked-- the Vhoori's.
"Agreed, Sistandir."

[Minerva]

In earnest, few cared to brave the journey betwixt Frigid River and High Peak at this time in the year- or any other, for that matter, given the various dangers that this mountain route could give. The path weaving its way upwards through the mountains was seldom travelled, and rarely tended to, given how treacherous it could be. There were orcs and goblins in the mountains, on the road, and worse still, in the form of man-beasts, Crager beasts, who haunted the alpine town so well. The path to High Peak was often snowed in during winter, which quickly turned to slippery mush during the warmth of the mountain’s six cycle long summer. Beyond that there was often the problem of falling rocks…the passageway simply was not well-travelled enough to warrant a single patrol, let alone a dedicated cleaner.

Beyond the cold and dangers of the mountain trail, the scenery around them, at the least, was beautiful. There was a certain something about this climate, this terrain, that seemed so clean, so innocent and pure. It was breathtaking, and one’s mind could indeed become lost here, thoughts trailing their way through this place in patterns which could never end, as the mountains soared on and on.

Mn`dharrowrynn was far from the forests of home now, however, in a strange place, with people from all races not her own. Most travelling with the caravan now were human, though most had left with the last stop down south. A couple of rangers travelled with them now, as well as a few traders looking to make their way back home. The party was small, but the trail was quiet; it seemed that they would make it safely to the end, after all.

Then, however, the quiet became too much so, if only for a moment before being broken once again. One of the humans, cursing in their vulgar tongue, before running to the forefront of the group, in haste.

“We need to stop the caravan. There’s something up ahead.” He did not sound happy, nor did he really look happy. All in all he seemed pretty well perturbed. “Something isn’t right- we shouldn’t move on until we know what it is.”

The quality of his voice spoke of orders, rather than a suggestion to be heard. The only question was how well the elves of this retinue would take it.

[Mn`dharrowrynn]

The candlemarks seemed to pass by smoothly, falling from the flower one petal at a time, as if to play the part of natures hourglass. The moment was suspended, encasing the quiet solitude of the mountains within a fragile shell reserved for the unexpected instances in life. Mn'dharrowrynn merely canted her gaze, tilting to the right while she leaned on her horse. The other elves seemed unsurprised to hear that something obstructed the path. It was some-thing- was it not?

Mindful of the wagonmasters expertise and competency thus far, she nodded once, then gestured for Sistandir and the others, Tanthalus, Hycinathe, and a lean she elf named Jhanrael to join her.
"We should follow them, seler?" Mn`dharrowrynn nodded in agreement with Jhanrael's question.
"Stay and cover the rear, and make sure the road behind us remains as it should." Her words were cool and tempered by an even tone when she directed requests to the three remaining elven men in their retinue.
With a snap of her reigns she, followed by Jhanrael, begin their slow trot toward the front.

[Minerva]

The humans led the way, whilst the elves followed behind. The remainder of the retinue, as well as the caravan itself, were left with a small service of guards, just in case; about all that the travellers could spare.

The trail itself was a little less spotless than it could have been, and more than once the party would find themselves needing to pick a way around fallen rocks and mounds of collected snow. Eventually, however, they came to the object of their journey’s disruption; a rockfall, dead in the middle of the pathway, though there was something about it which did not seem quite right…

The way in which they were arranged seemed deliberate, rather than natural, with no random factor involved. The rocks had evidently been placed here on purpose, for just this very reason, to bring unwary travellers to a halt. The humans apparently did not see it this way, however, and simply stopped, instead, their leader turning to speak.

“Well, obviously we’ll need to move these before we can continue on our wa-”

The words, however, were cut off by the small inconvenience of a well-aimed arrow thudding deep into his eye, a spray of blood all that remained as his body fell numbly to the floor.

Up on one side of the trail, atop a natural mountain wall, a lone orc roared in triumph, having just succeeded in its kill. It cried out, and others answered, very close, somewhere nearby.

The lone orc archer was apparently not so alone, and soon, it seemed, there was a conflict to be had. It was best, perhaps, to prepare. And now, of course, the human guards had lost their leader…what, then, were they to do?

[Mn`dharrowrynn]

From the beginning Mn`dharrowrynn started to foster suspicions about the mountain arrangement. Untrained to mountain tactics, she did sense the tell-tale signs of an ambush.
"Attack!" She roared, drawing the reigns back when the first arrow blasted into the human front man. Her eyes came alive at the fresh shower of crimson, instantly drawing her into another world; another state of mind. "Archers!"
Jhanrael did not have to think long to comprehend her friends sentiment. They quickly rushed for the caravan at neck break speeds, attempting to deftly navigate their horses through the steely terrain.
"We must give the travelers time!" Her words spoke more than volume. "Gather the others." Mn`dharrowrynn steered her horse closer to the mountain ledge, doing her best to create a barrier of vision between her and the archers overhead.
"You intend to stay?" The words seemed broken when they escaped Jhanrael's lips, but she could see her dear Mn`dharrowrynn already begin to stall her horse once the caravan company was in sight.
"Go to them and let Sistandir know the road is lost. They may have blockaded a retreat. Tell them to find another way or to scatter for the nearest hidden ravine."
Jhanrael hesitated but Mn`dharrowrynn had already begun to draw her blade and steer back the way they came. "Go, seler'amin. I will find you." Jhanrael gave one last bow to the back of Mn`dharrowrynn's head then signaled away for the cadre of elves, and those others that traveled in peril now.

[Minerva]

Even in the scant time it had taken for Mn`dharrowrynn to travel back and forth between ambush site and the caravan itself, on her return it seemed that the orcs had already managed to deal with most of the human guards that had remained. The majority had been slain via arrows to the head or chest; for all that these attacking creatures were brutes, they apparently did have some sense of aim.

As the lone elf rode up, three orcs had already arrived on the bloodied scene, wielding cruelly spiked clubs which they brandished with a rather casual care. Only one of the humans by now was yet alive, and this one held by the scruff of his hair- tightly, painfully, his orc captor refusing to let go.

They had been on the verge of exacting execution when one of the group spotted the lone Silrosian elf, and snickered, loudly.

“Little elf girl all alone.” It mocked her, brazenly, its loose grasp of the Charismean tongue only further insult to what was being said.

“We have some fun with her, me think.” It finished, whilst the other two snorted with glee. Bringing the head of its club down into that of the human’s with an incredibly gut-wrenching thunk, the beast began its advance upon the maid, apparently not realising that she was not quite as weak nor pathetic as he felt that she seemed.

[Mn`dharrowrynn]

"No! Let him go---!" Her words tore free from ragged depths, summoned up from the bottom of a never ending wellspring of emotions. Through gritted teeth and whitened knuckles clenched 'round her blade, she bade the moment its soft sorrow of dusk and watched with a panoramic stare as the last human comrade traveling with them fell. Silence cocooned her in a shrine of moments; instances of life that raced before her whilst she gazed into the reality of oblivion. Perhaps the orcs could have never known that this was the first time Mn`dharrowrynn had seen combat; had shared loss and been quickly forced to make a decision. Maybe they expected nothing.
She would give them everything she had. Their words evaporated in the crisp thunder of hooves. Edging her beast on, she stampeded to a roaring charge-- elven steel blade catching the glint of elements-- hungry for the ancient foe.
"He did nothing to you!"
The horse had begun to bear down upon the group of orcs. Clenched to the saddle, her left shoulder tilted, body angled to make of herself a narrow target for advance archers, riding fast to out-angle the sharp-shooters whilst hugging the mountain wall for cover and to brace from being forced off the edge.
"You should not have done that!"
Her words came as simple as the wind, owned to an eldritch past that neither feared the passage of time nor sought the fires of dynamics to circumvent the smooth wandering of the years. She came forth as she was, and as she had promised to be; even if the moment of short talks with those travelers, laughter by the fireside, and the sharing of meals all amounted to this. Mn`dharrowrynn was grateful just for those few tokens, and in that complete understanding it had made her swing for the first orc's head that much more genuine and sincere. The loss, so rapid and visceral, stealing life as if it were worth nothing, and so little to care-- these orcs had tresspassed, and her spirit would not let her side-step this first contact; could not deny her a people's oath to live and love in this space. She was elf.
What creature could demand such a sacrifice as this?! Swing true, she prayed, leveling her blade from a high-arcing right, down and hard like a swooping windmill as she and her windstepper mount thundered into (and with all intents-- right through) the group of orcs with blade fanning death to those that closed proximity.

[Minerva]

The group of orcs had not truly been expecting the puny little elf woman to charge, much less swing an open blade out, and into their astonished midst. The advantage was clearly hers as she swept forth, the Windstepper itself knocking down one of the orcs as it clipped the fell beast with its side.

The others roared, in both frustration and in shock, their guttural voices an abomination on the ears as Mn’dharrowryn sailed on, her blade keen for death.

The first sweeping blow sailed into the neck of the first orc, the subsequent spray painting the sky with crimson blood as it spurted, and then, with the body of the brute, fell. The others meanwhile, were preparing to fight back, and whilst there were only two of them now, more would assuredly come.

The archer who had made it onto the scene was unsurprisingly the less fortunate of the two. Orcs were not the brightest of creatures by any stretch of the imagination and, rather than reach for the weapon laced to the belt at his side, the fiend endeavoured to draw his bow, at which point, he became fodder for the sword.

Mn’dharrowryn would be able to take him down, though the third of the orcs remained, and whilst he dodged away, readying himself to solicit an attack, the one that had first fallen spoke, a pained little gurgle in his last few moments of life.

“It too late, little elf.” He sneered, in spite of the fact that his very existence was drifting away in streams of red. “Too late…”

Across the mountain path, from whence the orcs first came, Mn’dharrowryn would be able to catch a line of black in her sights. There were more of the beasts coming, and a fair few more than this. How, then, could she hope to survive, when all the other guards here had been lost?

[Mn`dharrowrynn]

Deliverance had carried her stride through, and in her dashing crescendo the she elf had managed to weather this tempest. Banking her Windstepper, the two careened to a wild left, her falcon-keen eyes realizing immediately what that black column of orcs meant; even to the untrained eye. Flicking her blade arm, she slung the sticky-whet crimson from her razor's edge, down to the granite hollows beneath. It was a demonstration to the orc, but if he had any mind, he'd know he was being spared. She gave him a twenty-foot clearance to dodge as she charged violently forward, her wicked blade's tip kissing the lower circumference of the sun's rim, poised to swoop down in a deadly crescent.

She fully intended to claim the rode ahead of her, and pressed her commitment with every ounce of venom in the roar she laid before her enemy. Her destination went with the caravan, finding her kith, kin and safety.

[Minerva]

Courage shone within the elf’s graceful form, mercy in the red-soaked tip of her blade. Mn’dharrowrynn had proven herself better than any of these vile orcs, but now the tides would turn. Whilst she had felled a number of these beasts on her own, more awaited beyond the passes of the mountain, and they came, in one black sweeping wave; a deluge of death, and despair.

There was no possible way in which the elf could defeat them all, but even as she turned to flee, to find her kin once again, she was trailed. The cry of the orcs behind her grew, louder and louder again as they drew close. It was a cacophony of guttural voices joined by the humming of arrows as they flew; these creatures did not wish to allow the woman to escape, such was clear.

As she rode her windstepper down the mountain path, the orcs kept coming behind. Arrows whizzed by her, right and left, always close, always missing, until she felt a sharp pain come suddenly in her back. The impact was enough to throw her forwards, towards her horse’s neck, with the pain enough to cause her grip and resolve to fall, as she did, to the floor.

The last thing she would remember was the departing trail of the caravan, winding rapidly down the mountain pass before her, and strangely, the sound of arrows, flying not towards her, but away, and up. They were far enough away to perhaps be in the clear- the company she had travelled with, her family and friends.

Her valour had been bold and successful, though it seemed to have come at a price.

OOC: Waiting on Odile to join. (:

[Odile Raelia]

Bad things moved in these mountains. They were too big. Too raw. These were not the calm hills in southern Sherian. They outstripped the razor-spine of the Khardrans, for on and on they reached, the culmination of angry millennia of continents grinding against each other, the battlefield of tectonic war. Snow clouds gathered miles away and winter was already on the wind that shivered Odile. She was perched on an eagle's eyre, looking out at the crags and snow peaks, the mountain streams and desperate trails, and the distant green countryside of Lauryl, and way way off, at the edge of the horizon, the edge of the Forest of Light. Mystique was too far and too small to be made out here, but it was there, somewhere. Odile would visit, maybe, after the winter. She wanted to be between buildings, in alleys and avenues again. The mountains were too lonely, too frightening at night and too cold. Odile was used to the cold, but the cold of the mountains, winds blown from eagle wings and frost from giants' breath was not the cold of the Everwinter, or a Jaedaxian Nuit Blanche. In the city one felt the warmth of other people. Shivering pedestrians under thick fur coats, smoking pipes and clinging to each other under delicate snowflakes made winter a soft thing, a quiet and cozy and gentle season. Not in the mountains. There were bad things here.

Odile sat on the rocks where the wind had swept away the snow. She huddled closely under her ragged cloak and dress. She'd been wandering these paths for a month, lost and ghost-like, singing to the eagles and the emptiness. She was as threadbare and broken as her clothes. Her cheeks were cold and wet. The winds were too forlorn. She was too alone too long. Where was Jaedaxia? She was so high in these mountains but she could only see west. Could she be any further from her home? From the evergreen forest in the middle of the city, from the Cathedral, from the frozen flowers in the ice gardens and the golden street lamps that starred the streets, from all the fashionable people, the coffee, the foods, the smells of horses,
the life. She was a city-elf, one of a few hundred Sylrosians who made Jaedaxia their home. And though they kept their souls calm in the Cathedral forest, she knew and loved the rhythms and life-patterns of the street. But she'd left. And she couldn't go back. She wept in the Great Mountains because she'd kill herself in Jaedaxia. She'd throw herself knife-first at every Imperial soldier, or break down and cower, afraid and neurotic in a doorway as they passed.

Wherever she wanted to be, she was here, a dead leaf blown about by Shelley's Western Wind, but not by life and freedom but by apathy and sadness.

She noticed a few miles down a few travelers making their way up the trail to High Peak. Odile, driven to some reason at last by the winter winds, had made up her mind to find High Peak and winter there -- she'd die in these mountains in winter. She already couldn't sleep for the cold. And the food was getting scarce. And Orcs. There were Orcs, and giants, and beasts. She'd seen them. She'd avoided them. She fought them, careless in mind and feral in body. A nasty wolf-bite on her side had been festering for a few brightenings.

She'd seen the Orcs planning their ambush. She let herself cry for the people who would die down there. She'd stopped holding back a long time ago. But -- they didn't all die helpless. Who was that riding down there? The figure killed a number of Orcs and, outnumbered, took flight until -- an arrow took her. The Orcs rarely lost up here.

* * *

When the Orcs had gone, Odile had lingeringly made her way down to the bodies at the site of the ambush. She checked them all, first to see if they were alive, second for provisions, mementos, valuables. Then she came to Mn'dharrowryn. She was far enough from the site, Odile could tell this body was the one who'd fought. A Sylrosian. Sylrosians always fought -- except herself, she thought.

This one was alive! Odile did all she could for the wound. She didn't know much. She didn't she could tear out the arrow safely or dress the wound, but the elf-girl was light. High Peak was far but what could they do? Odile carried Mn'dharrowryn up the trail, hoping that some of the rangers who hunted and patrolled these mountains would find them.

[Minerva]

Mn'dharrowryn was the only one of the guards left alive, though she was injured and out cold. The rest of the party had most certainly been killed, their skulls smashed in by the orcs as they went about their dirty deeds. It had been a massacre, in truth, though the sacrifice had not been made in vain. The caravan of travelers had been protected, and allowed to escape; a service of life in exchange for the deaths of a few courageous souls.

There was little else to salvaged from the wrecked bodies here; any valuables which had come with the caravan had left with it, as well. The upwards trail of the mountain was hard, as well, though Odile managed to make it, for a time.

Within this cold weather, however, and with the upwards climb becoming harder and harder with each and every step that she took, Odile would eventually need to stop, and rest, lest she become claimed by the frigid mountain, too. Travelling on one’s own was a tiring enough feat, but with another body in tow- and one which needed to be carried, to boot- the elf simply would not be able to manage for long.

Fortunately for them both, however, these trails were often patrolled or watched by rangers and guards from both of the nearby towns. Odile and Mn’dharrowryn were spotted swiftly enough by one, who subsequently hastened to approach, bow in one hand whilst the other remained outstretched, keeping balance as the man sprinted down the slopes.

“Ma’am!” He called out, evidently towards Odile, given her companion’s current state. Even from a distance he had seen that she was hurt, and such was consequently the only thing on his mind as he looked the pair over, through concerned, watchful eyes.

“What happened?”

The human was scrabbling through his bag as he spoke, waiting for Odile’s response whilst diligently he searched for something which would help.

It was around this time that Mn’dharrowryn started to come to, as well, albeit groggily in face of what had been done, what it was that she had unfortunately been through. The pain would be immense, and it was questionable how long her consciousness would last, but it was something, at the very least; something to let her know that she was actually still alive.

[Mn`dharrowrynn]

Nausea and pain trampled Mn`dharrowrynn. She ached from every fiber of her being, knowing the keen pain that burned from her shoulder and sent lightening coursing through her back and all along her right side. "My horse?" Her fingers were still clenched, or crinkled, fore they ached, chaffed and bloodied, bitten by the road at horseback speeds. She suddenly looked to Odile and remembered the forest, an outpouring wellspring of urgency that sounded the alarm. "I'm alright. We have to go. Tell them, seler'amin!" She wanted to grope for her blade, and desperately longed to convey more, to explain what happened, but she felt so tired.

"Don't let them leave the others alone out there, seler." She had never felt the rush of a moment so visceral and real, had never forfeited moments of joy and tarnished a sweet memory so quickly as was accomplished in that mountain pass. The pain was ready to reveal itself in the form of fear and weakness. She loved life from the bottom of her heart, and though she knew she was revealing too much, displacing herself further from the focus, she needed to feel it and keep some of that reality alive. She wasn't an orc or a human.

[Odile Raelia]

"Thank you," was the first thing she said when the rangers appeared.

"There was a caravan. It was attacked by Orcs. She was the only guard left when I got there."

Odile let Mn'dharrowryn to the ground and fell flat on the ground herself, exhausted by her climb up the trail. But they'd found help. They would not die in these cold peaks. The thought of it stirred some life into Odile. This was not a place she wanted to die. A part of her called back to the forests and green fields she'd left at the base of the mountains, or the vibrant streets where people lived, where one could hear their laughter and tears, see their poverty and wealth and being and love and misery. That was what was wrong with these mountains. They were cold and they were dead.

"I don't really understand what she means. I only saw the attack from a distance."

[Minerva]

Like Odile, the man hardly understood what it was that Mn’dharrowrynn spoke, could barely comprehend the rush of great emotion instilled somewhere therein. He blinked at her, before hearing what it was that the other elf had to say. She, it seemed, had a better grasp on what had occurred, though the ranger’s eyes did widen at the mention of orcs. Naturally, the Great Mountains were rife with such beasts, and often the town here was attacked. On the road, however, such things were another story- it was on a rare occasion that they decided to venture this far town, especially when within the near grip of fall.

“Orcs…If only…”

If only he had been able to find sign of them before any tragedy had come to take place. If only someone had been able to track their movements, find then, before it was too late. Now, how