Shall We Gather at the River? [OPEN!]

[Aqua]

Timestamp: Melora, Winter Era XV PF
This thread is OPEN to the first 2-3 PCs

Not too far outside of the city of Zinn'Sunn, the road that led into the mining town of Riparia and the rest of Centripax crossed over a river. Technically, it was the River Socrates Ambergois, but to many of the locals, it was just the Sock.

Crossing the Sock wasn't that hard. The road crossed it at an extremely shallow ford, and unless the rains had been unusually heavy or the spring snowmelt was more severe than normal, even a small wagon could get across with little or no danger. And at this time of the era, one had even less to worry about than usual -- at least from the river -- for the water at the ford was frozen top to bottom.

Nonetheless, it seemed that the challenge had been too much for at least one passer-by. It was a man, perhaps forty ordinations in age, who seemed to have been heading for Riparia. He was standing glumly beside a small, battered cart, which had been drawn by a pony. Had was the operative word, because the pony was lying in a bank of snow by the side of the road, and it wasn't because it was tired. No, the odds of that particular pony being able to pull the cart again in the next...well, ever were spectacularly bad.

It was still two or three candlemarks before the darkening. The light was already low, however, and the man began grimly looking through his cart, trying to find his tinderbox. He had been hoping to put several more miles behind him and reach a particular roadside shelter, but it didn't seem that was going to happen now. The Gracelands were notoriously unsafe, even for an Aelyrian wilderness, and making unplanned stops was generally somewhere between a bad and a terrible idea. But he didn't have any choice, and so the man was hoping to get a fire started...before it got dark.

[Mn`dharrowrynn]

Mn`dharrowrynn had broken from the clandestine familiarity that came from befriending the Empire of the Night, and quietly seized the road to run with the winter winds. Dressed down in leather vestments, fur, cloth layers, a wolf skin mantle and cloak, she felt, at least from time to time a bit sweaty or overheated; discharging vapor so long as she stayed her course. The mountain fringes, while sharp contrasts to the towering emerald walls of Syl'rosya, had managed to teach the highbourne to have a reverent appreciation for the immanent forces of nature. By sheer merit of fate (for the lone man) Mn`dharrowrynn found herself a candlemark shy of nearing suitable encampment. Thoughts of preparing a snow dug out, scouting for a crag or mountain foot overhang, or possibly taking refuge and making safechecks toward a hideout were abound in the she elfs mind. Practicality was like a warm companion in these quiet wilds.

Surveying the snow-kissed pass, she sighted the battered cart and derelict man, seemingly halted by the cold or maybe by hopelessness, and then she saw the dead beast of burden. Her eyes softened, though she let her arms rest only a breath away from her dagger and longsword. She hadn't expected company on this particular journey, though she was hard to surprise at this point.

"Perhaps Carmelya was unsatisfied with your offering," maybe those were hasty words, but she said them without discrimination. "Are you alright? You're not hurt, or sick?"

Steadily advancing, she raised her left arm to throw back her fur hood and reveal a birthright that was distinguishable only by the sculpted expression and high arching ears.

[Phedan]

He wasn’t a hero, and by the traditions of his people he wasn’t greatly interested in the concerns of some stranded human. In truth the Esh'lahier was tempted to wait, and see if the man would die of the cold as the darkening set.

Phedan could move in and strip the pony of its hide. It could be sold, used for making leather. The meat could be dried. It’d keep him going most of the month.

With his bow on his back and knife at his side the elf crouched low. He was wrapped in leather and covered in furs. The furs were from a pair of wolves, killed in the winter. It nearly matched the shade of the snow, and provided protection from the cold.

He was tempted to wait for the human’s expected end, but than a stranger became involved. Phedan didn’t know either of them, and wasn’t certain if he wanted to, but he did the stupid thing, he approached the duo.

As he got closer he saw something interesting. The second was an elf, a daughter of Silrosia. They were fools, lost, and could be dangerous. He sighed as the female stood there, offering aid to the human, like he was actually worth it.

Their kind weren’t worth the bother, and as he approached, the Esh'lahier shared just that insight in her language. The man wasn’t worth her kindness, not that he needed to know that.

“Is the human worth it? Why not let him die. We can share his goods…. Less you’re partial to pets.”

Would he kill them? Surely not. The male wasn’t a vysstichi. He wasn’t a monster. He wouldn’t murder a stranger for coin, but he didn’t feel the need to offer aid either. The cold could perhaps kill the middle aged male in time. He didn’t seem well clothed.

[Mn`dharrowrynn]

She did not see the initial break in the forest, but as Phedan advanced Mn`dharrowrynn could take in the folds of fur and patchwork hide, sensing in her the ring of a quiet alarm sounding. She had traveled safely through these regions on almost every journey, save that first journey to High Peak - prelude to an all-out orcish assault on the caravan she traveled with.

Could it be? Once the silver elf was a breath away-- an esh'lahier; she could not believe her serendipity-- it only reinvigorated her hopes of finding the entrance to the lost elven city in the Forest of Light.

She tried not to let this lone elf unnerve her hope to seek out the hidden kingdoms champions, and beg their help in piercing the Veil. Her people were lost, and she had been lost for so long, too. For just a moment Phedans words became a mirror into that feeling of being tired so earlier into the geas.

Mn`dharrowrynn remembered it was a small guard of humans that gave their lives in the initial caravan assault. She merely did what the others would have done, and in that sacrifice she found a fragment of herself that would have been willing to lay bloodied and battered to preserve the right for total strangers to share the comforts of a fire, a meal, and a laugh together. She had been willing to stand up and see that the other travelers could continue living those simple rituals out just a little while longer.

The she elf steeled herself as best she could, wanting to tell the esh'laheir that he had not been immediately judged, but in him she saw and heard her words, spoken out of another time and age, and that made her want to tell him so much that could not be put into words under these circumstances. It frustrated her, and she almost confused it with intention. She fought a vile reaction that was counter to her very far-fetched dream of seeing this esh'laheir city, but here was a silver elf now-- asking her to just let it go.

"It would be safer for the three of us to stay together," she replied in her native tongue. "The human has been in the open... in the same place for a period of time unnecessary, I am certain. He will have possibly attracted unwanted attention." Her expression betrayed nothing, but the muscles around her mouth clenched just a little at how cold the silver elf was. She glanced back to the human, then moved to kneel and examine the pony at the next opportunity.

It was too early to judge so final and fully.

[Aqua]

"Not hurt yet," the man replied dubiously to Mn`dharrowrynn's first question. "I was pushing it a little, trying to make a journey to Riparia that most traders won't try this time of the era, but it hasn't ended well so far." He shook his head. "Was trying to start a fire just now. I'm sure you know, but this is a dangerous part of the province to be out alone in, and the next waystation is too far away for me to reach before the darkening, not with Edgar there." He waved two fingers at the dead pony in the snow.

The pony, should Mn`dharrowrynn feel inclined to examine it, was already starting to stiffen, and was quite cold. There were no obvious injuries, and it simply seemed that the creature had died from unusual exposure to the cold, coupled with intense work. His master either hadn't been paying attention to the animal's condition or had been too driven to reach his destination to pay any mind to it, or so it would appear.

So far, the man had been friendly, if preoccupied. His posture became more defensive when Phedan arrived, however, particularly since the Esh'lahier immediately addressed the female elf in a language he didn't know. Shadow elves -- you couldn't trust them, and for one even to be here was a bad sign. Rumors swirled around them in Lauryl -- they had some kind of magic city in the forest that no one could find, they ate the flesh of humans, they'd poison you for a silver, since they were too "civilized" to draw blood. The man wasn't from Lauryl -- his accent placed him as from somewhere in the north, possibly at the extreme end of Arium -- but that didn't mean he hadn't heard the stories.

"Erm...serale, sir," he said, addressing Phedan in common, the only option available to him. "Is something the matter? Besides the fact that we're all here in the Gracelands, I mean, and both night and a storm look like they may be coming." One hand was on the handle of a knife strapped to his side, though he didn't unsheath it. He glanced questioningly at Mn`dharrowrynn, who seemed to have understood what was said, but also seemed to be the more nonthreatening of the two. Especially since she was a light elf, and not one of those strange Shadow ones...

[Lathander Laernhoun]

Who was to know that there were more than two elves among the hills that brightening?

Across the wilderness a lone figure forged a path, through the snow-crested purple heather that cascaded down the hillsides, that flowed like a tide around the huge boulders and through the gatherings of pine trees, following the beaten trails until the urges to be amongst the trees, to breathe in the heady smell of resin, to feel the gnarled barks, to experience the power and joy of nature, became overpowering.

Regard this figure now; tall and slim, face deeply shrouded by the hood of a cape lined with soft white fur, barely a crunch as slight footsteps meet fresh snow. At its waist a dark leather scabbard, at its foot knee-length black leather travelling boots, lined with fox fur.

Lathander inhaled deeply, savouring not for the first time the frigid air, each breath cleansing and invigorating him. It seemed such a long time since he had left the port and set out across the unforgiving snowy climes. He fingered the hilt of the longsword sitting at his waist vaguely -- it, and the so-called 'training' he had received from a Baijani Human of most questionable status and ability, was all he had to show for the sale of the domicile in Medonia in which he had for too long eked out a life unworthy of his birthright. The training had been an embarrassment to a noble of Kard en i'Annun lineage; it had been a rash mistake -- only elves were fit to teach elves.

In any case, life in the cities sickened him. The humans could not live with nature, only in a constant struggle against it; they ravaged the woodlands without concern, merely to sate their own greed. It had been high time to leave the cities.

The first signs of 'civilisation' became apparent as the trees grew more sparse and Lathander began to encounter others upon the trail. He greeted cries of 'Serale traveller!' with indifferent nods. Tightening his furs around his lithe frame he increased his pace.

Lathander could sense that there was a body of water long before his eyes did so -- the air changes around running water, a fresh and vegetative smell that spoke to dormant instincts in him. He rounded a bend at brisk pace and espied a trio of unlikely companions at a fjord in the river. Making as to pass them by and give no heed, he glanced up and saw that there was a pair of elves! He slowed his pace, eyeing up the group, and his gaze was inexorably drawn to a young, fair Sylrosyan elven girl. It had been too long since he had seen one of his kin, and city elves disgusted him as much as city life; traitors to their brethren and history, more human than elf, each one. Here was something worth investigating.

Approaching languidly, he flicks back his hood to reveal long waved jet-black locks, tucks the stray tendrils behind his ears and pulls his hands from his pockets--

"Serale travellers", he manages, in heavily-accented common and unused to the sound of his own voice after so much time alone. Glancing down at the stricken pony,--"some accident has befallen you?"

Turning his head to the elven maiden, he purrs in the lyrical elven tongue clearly much more familiar to him, "vedui, my sister. What brings you to share such company?"

OOC - Mn`dharrowrynn invited me, hope that's ok.

[Mn`dharrowrynn]

"Starting a fire could be dangerous." Her eyes turned from the silver elf to the dead pony, then back to the human. Her hand had gently stroked the fallen beasts lifeless neck and mane. "...at least in the open and before nightfall," she finished. The human could trust the low light vision inherent within both these elves. Their path would be clear in the later candlemarks, if only the human could trust them now. "If we're being watched it won't matter, but I prefer the shroud of the forest at night." She turned from the human to look back at Phedan. "We should find a white mound at the base of a large tree and tunnel a snow dugout. In the heart of the forest, and at night, we can hope to keep a fire going without too much fear of revealing ourselves. The dug out will keep us warmer." Shifting an expectant gaze between the two Mn`dharrowrynn suddenly saw the outlines of an advancing shadow at Phedans flank. What betrayl or ambush is amiss, she thought?

Gloved digits squeezed the hilt of her longsword, issuing emotional shockwaves to the others by all indications in her rigid posture and feral poise. "Behind y--- " her words fell short as the hand slipped from the blade and her crouched form slowly turned into that of a ceremonious kneel. Her eyes closed for a moment, transporting her in mere blinks to an ancient line of memories that stretched all the way back to the beginning. The simplest of effects often had profound force among the wandering and lost. She felt those effects keenly when she recognized the stature of a high elf. "Vedui' toror'amin," spoken quickly, then as if all moments had been connected, she was rising, fixing the peaceknot on her hilt to a close once more, before regarding the human.

"There are many people on the road this brightening. It will only further embolden local bandits. We should move." Her conclusion hung for just a moment, and then she turned to reach out and clasp with both hands, the right arm of Lathander. "...survival brings us together, kindred. The human has lost his way in the cold, and while nature would claim him, perhaps she also sent us here to remind him one more time, the true cost of life. Will you help me help him?" It was more than it needed to be, but in her journey Mn`dharrowrynn had learned to see and take more from each of these simple experiences. Mid-wifing their growth, she had watched small things become great, for better or for worse. There was always purpose in pausing to look, listen, and do something. She searched the high elfs eyes for that sort of empathy and understanding, to see if he even had it at all.

[Lathander Laernhoun]

The eyes are truly the gateway to the soul, for as Lathander's pale blue eyes held a searching gaze with the young elf, in them he saw a part of himself reflected, saw the purest and more base form of empathy before it is tainted irrevocably by greed and anger. As her hands gripped his arm, the gesture itself said more then words could.

"It is dangerous to be on the roads", he says simply. "Night comes."

Giving his kinswoman a wan smile, and slipping back into the tongue of elves, Lathander speaks once more -- "I have travelled far and am weary. Together we are strong. Let us make camp and wait out the night and the coming storm."

[Aqua]

The man's face showed that he was unconvinced that his new acquaintances had the best of intentions -- especially now that Lathander had showed up too -- but he was also smart enough to realize that if they had some secret desire to kill him, he likely wouldn't last long anyway, not in his current state. He gave a short nod. "If you've an idea how to survive, ma'am, I suppose I ought to follow your lead," he said to Mn`dharrowrynn.

He reached into the cart and took out a metal box, perhaps eight inches square. Tucking it under one arm, he said, "All right. What's the next step?" The man had a practical bent, but it was clear that snow dugouts were not his particular area of expertise. "My name's Rollins," he added, almost as an afterthought. "Rollins Tollison."

There were several trees a few hundred yards down the riverbank. Within that copse, there would be a perfectly good snowbank for digging a snow dugout, assuming that the elves decided it was far enough off the pathway. If not, the predominantly rocky ground by the Sock gave way to forest perhaps half a mile away.

The wind was beginning to pick up further. It was a subtle difference, but one that indicated that a storm almost certainly was coming. The clouds to the north were a darker shade of gray, one that had a very real threat to it.

[Mn`dharrowrynn]

Thanks beset Mn`dharrowrynns determined gaze, softening her substantially. She turned to regard the human, nodding then offering in common, "I am Mn`dharrowrynn, just come from Zinn'Sunn. I was planning to make camp as it stands, but if I can lend a hand..." She glanced toward the esh'lahier, then strafed to Lathander once more. "If you have something you can't part with, we can help carry it. I can, at least," still assessing her boundries with the other elves, she corrected herself.

Odile Raelia would have to wait a while longer in High Peak. Distraction had seized up the wandering elf, drawing her into a most favored element: possibility.

[Aqua]

"At this point," Rollins said glumly, "the only thing I'm terribly interested in preserving is my life." The cart and its contents would be a monetary loss, that was for sure -- but he could handle that if it meant not dying.

The other elves, it seemed, would not follow them. Rollins fell into step beside the light elf, adjusting the box beneath his arm. "Pleasure to meet you, Mn`dharrowrynn, though it's a shame about the circumstances." Her name rolled off the man's tongue with surprising grace.

He didn't have any idea what portion of the geography Mn`dharrowrynn would settle on for the construction of the dugout, and so he was, for the moment, willing simply to follow her lead. Wilderness survival, that's what he should have studied during his last year of schola, instead of spending time in art classes just to meet girls. But it was too late now, he thought.

Indeed, it seemed that their preparations would have to be made very quickly. The first flakes of snow were now lazily drifting to the ground. The angry-looking clouds and ominous wind, however, were indications that there was much more than a few flurries in store for the pair of travelers.