Forums » Fantasy Roleplay » Within The Conflict (1x1 Closed)

The rhythmic, yet not entirely peaceful nature of the forest was easy to sense when it had been broached. First it was the animals' that began to react to the intrusion on the furthest borders, flocking inwards where the trees were thicker, away from the meadows that normally coaxed them out into the open with the promise of fresh green. The plants were slower to respond, but the draining of food resources and water from certain sites was soon noticeable; the mould began to dry more readily on the furthest side, and some springs had even been re-diverted entirely.

Unaware, for now, of the conflict that was soon to begin on either side of the small woodland that she and a clustering of other like kind considered home.

Eniah had been picking her way through the treeline on the side that she could only describe as drained, moving easily within the dappling light so then the sunlight through the branches broke up her outline amongst the moderate foliage and leaf-litter. With her pale tan skin and ginger hair, the autumnal colouration of the terrain was ideal. Dressed in a simple loincloth and wrap-top and adorned in wooden beads and carved bone, she paused to briefly crouch atop a tree trunk, a slight frown on her features. Quite concerned and yet, curious of just what was causing the slow, leaking damage.

After a pause,she began to move off again. But even while going at speed, she could not have prevented the trap from snaring her. Lashing around her ankle and set off by her weight, the net was soon hoisted up in a clatter of weights and rush of leaf-litter being disturbed. With a squeal that was half-feral, the elf-wood sprite hybrid soon began squirming as much as possible, trying to pry the thick ropes apart. T'was not use; they were made for something far larger and far angrier than herself.

The serene atmosphere of the forest began to slowly dilute as voices, speaking in an assortment of unintelligible tongues became more audible, accompanied by the sound of racing horses, approaching the empty woodland. Their hard voices bellowed at each other, probably giving orders, for it was obvious why they had come, they came here to prepare the battleground, to scour for every advantage over their new foe. Where they spies? Maybe, but how these were ordering themselves about proved that this little scouting trip down into the now desolate, though lush forest was something slightly more serious.

As they entered the forest, they scoured it good and well, checking every available advantage, from treetop, to bottom, to even the underground. No potential cover would be left to remain unexploited not to these... Elves?

All of the party were Elfborn, the dissidents and followers of a landless horde. Definitely not something to be expected of a Highborn, and these warriors took every chance to distance themselves from their brethren. Their armour, though silk-like and silver as it was in their old lives, was clearly not of Elvish shape. Their helmets were small, and quite tight for their elongated faces, though even that was covered by a metal mask. Their armour was made of thick lamellar, held together by a scale breastplate. The horses were no different, bearing much resemblance their riders. They were not armed well, but then again, they were not expecting no battle, carrying only a small, silver dagger each, and even that was simply meant for cutting vines with, it was definitely no warrior's blade.

The Elvish horsemen were in a clear view within the forest. Then again, they wanted to be. These were not the secretive Wood folk, of whom would give an enemy a quick death, no. They wanted to flaunt themselves, for if any enemy were to come here now, the Elves would instill fear into their hearts, and make them beg for death! However, not every creature in the forest is an enemy, as they would soon discover.

Hardly empty. The woodland teemed with a surprising amount of life, ranging from the smallest rodent scurrying in the corner to the small population of wood sprites scattered throughout. While born to an Elvish parent, she had been either given freely or taken into the more sheltered community. Now, it was the only home she knew, and she would guard it readily if given the chance.

Just as she had put another surge of energy into struggling however, did those almost predatory golden eyes spot movement between the trees. Instantly she stilled, freezing as though caught in plain sight. The trap was rather large after all, designed for something more worthy of being called prey; a boar being one of the more likely options, or a deer of some sort. She studied them closely, taking in as many details as she could from her elevated viewpoint while keeping quiet for the time being. Who were they? What did they want here? The forest had no riches, at least, not riches from the point of view of city-dwellers.

Now came the question. To draw attention to see if they would free her, or to keep quiet? Regardless, sooner or later the trap would have been noticed.

(I apologize for how long this took, I've been struggling to get back into the college routine.)

After a few moments of scouring the woodland, the Elves came to a halt. Their armour began to glint across the forest as they exchanged gestures, particularly search orders. It seemed as if there was something that they wanted, something far more important than simple gold. They were not here to plunder, but for the wrong reasons. These were High Elves, in their mind, any fool could steal in glorified manner, it should take a true warrior to actually win their prize proper, and these Woods would be the great advantage the Elvish soldiers needed to wrestle the prize from whatever foe lay beyond.

The unit of horsemen dispersed as they began their search duty. Many chose to scout far beyond the forest, though few stayed to assess if the forest was a satisfactory defensive position. They checked the best trees from the trunk to tallest branch. Each of these assessments took a good few minutes, for every tree's shape was unique, and one would offer a variety of advantages which the other could not. The Elves had not yet noticed Sprite-like being, for their focus would remain on what was in front of them, but judging by the similar diligence shared between them and their Wood Elvish kinsmen, they may soon find out.

(No worries, been there and done that so I understand!)

Eniah was still desperately torn between making her presence known and keeping quiet. On the one hand, release could mean one of a few things. Either she would be released, given the chance or opening to bolt or at worst, recaptured. And on the other hand, keeping quiet might mean being passed by. While she did have a crude dagger on her, the thickness of the rope risked damaging and dulling the blade before she had cut enough of it away to make a gap large enough to squirm through.

But finally, desire to get free won out. And so she spoke up in Elvish. Not her mother tongue by any means, but still one that she was fluent enough to converse in.
"Help! Over here!" The dialect was perhaps marginally 'off', suggesting a rural or backwater upbringing, but it was still Elvish regardless.

The few Elvish horsemen within the forest jumped at the sudden sound. They had not expected to find one of their own kin inside these woods. Then again, considering the way this unknown voice spoke in Elvish tongue, they could just be a fluent sprite. Nevertheless, this voice sounded as if it was in danger, they would need to act fast.

One of the Elves placed his gauntlet beside his silver mask. "Hold on! One of us is coming to get you." The tall being shouted atop his horse. As he gestured his group to hold their place, both him and his horse sped across the forest, trampling the falling leaves as they raced to the origin of the voice. When he finally reached his destination, the soldier was slightly stunned.

There he saw a woman resembling his own people, and yet, he could somehow tell that the being in front of him was not by any means a true member of own kin. What was even more questionable was the trap that had ensnared her. It seemed that this forest was not as exceptional a defensive base as the High Elves first thought, giving them yet another reason to curse their highborn ignorance.

Eniah was, technically, half-sprite. Born to a love-bond of elvish and wood sprite parents, she had grown up in a mingling of both cultures and had ended up settled into a small community of wood elves. More secretive and knowing of woodland and wildlife lore than their more city-embracing counterparts, but no less knowledgeable of the secret ways, and no less mysterious. More so, perhaps, more out of habit than much else.

When the voice answered in a positive manner, she let out a quiet hissing breath of relief. Now at least she could cease her struggles, rather than spending vital energy in thrashing about for little reason.

"Boar trap." Her voice held a subtly surly tone at that, clearly expressing her discontent at the situation. She had not, however, placed it herself, nor had any of the community she was from. That much would have been obvious, for all traps were placed knowingly so then such accidental incidences like this would not happen! Which left only one other conclusion, that being that the trap had been placed by another... A single hunter or many, or worse?

As he heard the Half-born speak, the High Elf drew his silver dagger, preparing to cut at the tall snare. He paused for a split second, that snare trap definitely looked suspiciously sturdy, almost as if it was meant for something slightly bigger than a boar. The soldier accompanied this interest with a gaze at his dagger, questioning if it would actually pierce the rope.

Another yell was spurted from the soldier's hidden lips. "I am going to try and cut you down from the snare, are you ready?" He didn't want to risk an abrupt fall to the ground, so he waited for the consent of this unfortunate Half-Sprite.

Eniah watched him steadily, intently. The gold colour of her eyes gave her gaze an almost predatory quality, although her otherwise youthful features belied that. She eyed the dagger for a moment before, at his question, nodding readily. She moved as best as the ropes would allow into more of a crouch, which would make landing on the ground rather less sudden and awkward.

"I am ready, yes!"
Oh, she had questions. But peppering the warrior with questions could certainly wait until she was freed.

No more word needed to spoken. The slash would be done as soon as possible. The Warrior held his silver dagger up high in the air, as he prepared to enter the correct position to cut this rope down. With a solemn swish of the blade, the tight was cut in two. Returning his dagger to the sheath, the warrior knew exactly what would happen next.

She landed heavily, but used the bent position of her legs to at least soak up some of the force of impact. Pausing for a moment, she then warily straightened up. At only 4'10" and with a willowy build, she was certainly quite in contrast to the armour-clad man who had rescued her. Able to study him all the better from where she was now, her head angled slightly as those slightly larger than normal gold eyes studied him intently.

"Who are you? Why are you here?"

Visitors were rare. Often those that came to the forest were seeking something from it. Herbologists were tolerated, traders permitted to pass through and only a select number of carpenters were accepted at any one time.

The soldier went a bit solemn for a moment, as he carved through his mind to find an explanation. To him, these were questions that he was not able to answer. Not because he did not know such an answer, but the Elf considered himself incapable of such. He took a breath under his masked helmet, of which contained the same styles of Saracen warriors, of which his lord Bohtimbhar had come across on his migration to the 'Mortal lands'.

"My name is of no importance, at least not to an outsider of the host, for I am merely a servant of my lord, and it is he, who can answer all of your question."

He spoke with a slight tint of passion in his voice. Perhaps as a High Elf, he believed that he had some sort of right to be proud of his lord, but what such respect could possibly amount to.