Forums » Fantasy Roleplay » Of blight and treason (1x1)

Please, HELP ME! Her breath came in ragged puffs and formed clouds in the cold morning air. The view of the forest flew right by her in a continuous blur while her bare feet sought their footing in the grass, the dirt and fallen leaves. Every now and then there was a rumble in the ground as the roots withdrew to let her pass without a stumble, yet resumed their position upon the approach of the others.

Her sides were stinging and her throat burned. All the while her mind kept screaming at the whispering trees and rustling bushes. Why won't you help me?! They're so close, so close! She could hear their footsteps behind her. Heavy boots crushing the plants beneath them with absolute disrespect for the flow of life as they thudded heavily under the weight they carried. Soon her legs would give out from underneath her and she would fall. She would fall and not be able to get up in time, and they would catch her and bind her in chains.

And all the while the silence was deafening. This maddening lack of communication between her and the trees confused her and terrified her more than these men even did. Tears were flowing down her pale freckled cheeks, the gladioli that were her hair bouncing up and down her back. Then even the roots no longer withdrew to clear her path and aid her escape. Her vision blurred from crying as she gasped for air, it was her foot that got stuck on one of those roots. She cried out and flew several feet in the air before landing with a sickening thud and rolling a few more yards, coming to a halt only by the sheer force of her back smacking into a tree's solid trunk. The air forced from her lungs she couldn't even breathe for a few seconds, nevermind move. Enough for the bad men to come to a skidding halt near her, iron collar and chains in their hands.

The nymph pressed her hands to the bark of the tree, begging, willing it to save her from this horrible predicament as air began flowing into her lungs again. She sobbed. Nothing.

Blacwin had been scouting not too far from Guilderiem. An old habit that was not likely to die anytime soon, given the fifty years it had taken to carve it into his mind. Seated on top of his warhorse, a sturdy, feathery-hooved beast that he had loving termed 'Argent', the horse's path along the thin path through the wooded area was without rush. Which made him listening out for any movement and scanning the surroundings all the easier. The sound of cracking branches had at first been ignored. A wild animal perhaps, startled by another. He shifted slightly, straightening up and adjusting the longsword resting at his left hip. No harm in being careful. But when the singular sound from a distance became several as the distance closed, he grew more alert and scowled slightly.

Couldn't he even scout without something going wrong? He'd almost gotten into a bar brawl the day before, when he had so 'kindly' suggested to an Innkeeper about removing the hand of a thief that had tried to steal one of his possessions. The ways of his world were not the ways of here, and it had been politely recommended to him that he leave. No harm done thankfully, and he had moved on, fully prepared to sleep rough. So much for the King's finest. He dismounted then, and began to move in the direction of the sounds. While he was no 'wild' elf... quite out of touch with his heritage, and certainly not as attuned to the ways of nature as he had once been..., he still had some of the perks of his species. Swiftness being amongst them, and he soon came upon the trail of the fleeing woman. Her prints looked human enough, no alarm bells in his mind, but he drew back when the rapidly following men passed as well.

Slavers. While it was not something he was a stranger to, the idea of spontaneously capturing someone was still wrong to him. Slaves in the sense he was familiar with, were prisoners of war, those in debt or criminals. He moved closer now, from tree to tree...
"She'll make a fine price, won't she lads?. 'She'. While coming from a culture that was centered around male dominance - sexism civilized as some called it - the idea of protecting a woman was one that he adhered to. So they were planning to capture a woman, a free woman? Fuck that he thought to himself. He could see her outline against the tree.. but mistook, in his haste, the leaves that were a part of her, as part of the tree or perhaps a bush behind her. Drawing in deep on the aether, he felt the tingling rush of raw energy move through his veins, down his arms and into his hands.

Ever the dramatic however, he stepped sideways and more into the open, a grin on his lips. Clad in chainmaille, a surcoat and with a scar covering most of the left side of his face, he looked.. smug. Then the pale blue tendrils about his fingertips were cast outwards as he flicked his wrist, one hand towards one.. another towards one of the remaining. The effect was like a firm flat handshove to the chest, knocking them hopefully to the ground after a foot or so of being in the air. Enough to wind, even if not to break anything. "Were you never taught not to hurt a lady?" Says the man who'd flung a book at one of his former servant's head before now during a fit of anger. Ahem. Hypocritical actions aside. Drawing the sword and with the tendrils of magic still visible around his hands, he kept his attention on the three for now.

Blacwin, playing the hero for once.

She was already preparing for the burn of cast iron clamping around her neck and wrists. From her perspective the whole situation was lost. And yet there was a flicker of response from the tree.. brief, hesitant, but there. Her cheeks were streaked with dirt, collected by her tumble and smeared from the tears, but her unusual pink eyes stood hopeful again.

If it would only lend a little of its power! Trip them with its roots, tangle them in its branches, then she had a chance of getting away after all. In her panic and flight she initially did not truly register the event unfolding before her. No, they... they had NOT just floated up in the air there. Impossible! Preposterous! And ridiculous that they had just fallen to the ground and were wheezing just a short distance from her feet. One of the men spewed such a hateful slew of vulgar language, the nymph refused to commit such foul words to memory.

"What the HELL?!" One of them was already on his feet and turned towards the one responsible for the interruption, and looked mighty afraid of the unknown to boot. Was that a tremble in his hand that caused a clanging of the chain?

It was only then the nymph laid eyes upon the one eyed man. And she understood the tree had not responded to her, but to the magic this elf wielded and drew. With the men's focus on this stranger, she pushed herself upright against the tree and pressed her cheek to the rough bark with a heartbreaking plea. If you won't help me, at least, please, help HIM! All of you! She extended her mental voice to even the seedlings in the ground. One heartbeat, two heartbeats... by the third, creaking and rumbling stirred the forest floor. Too quick for one of the men to realize, a thick root hurled him up into the air. He screamed - horribly so in her ears - and flailed all of his appendages before he struck a tree with an 'oof'. It was incredible to watch him slowly drop down the tree until a forked branch caught him, upside down and dangling by the hips with his head still ten feet above the ground. If he fell, surely he would break his neck! But for some reason he just seemed stuck, unable to move even an inch.

Blacwin, unable to hear her communications, was quite ready to fling himself into the thick of it. Combat was something he had been trained in from a young age, and when it had been found that he had the ability to use the aether, that was his specialization. With one dangling upside down and the other watching warily, it was time to deal with the one nearest to her. A snarl came from his lips that momentarily seemed a little less than human, before he moved forwards. He thrust forwards with the sword towards the abdomen of the one holding the chains and collar, before feinting a blow towards his shoulder before exchanging hands - the left now above the right - and bringing it around towards the back of the mans leg. If he didn't move or block it, the blade would have bitten into the back of his knee, bringing him inevitably to the ground. The one in the tree, at risk of paralysis at the least and death at the worst if he well, was ignored for the time being.

He had eyed the root when it moved on its own... for that was no spellform he had cast. For a moment, his eye flickered from it, then to her.. some small realisation clicking within his mind. Priority however, was on the three men rather than the not-quite-so-human woman.

A gasp left her when the elf brought another man down. The man in the tree was bellowing profanities and cries of desperation, but she had no more attention for him. It was the one left, stumbling backwards with eyes widened from mad fear that earned a portion of her rage. Normally a creature of peace and harmony, these last ten minutes had been a hellish nightmare of terror, of fleeing captivity. And although she didn't wish them dead, they deserved a punishment equally as terrible as what they had done, and planned for her.

She took one step forward, eyes fixed on him with her lips drawn thin and her forehead creased with a frown. Oh, how she willed the branches to smack his sorry behind into oblivion! Strike after strike she imagined them beating down upon him, leaving more marks than anyone would ever care to count. Lasting physical scars they should be, a reminder and warning to never pursue this path of captivity again.

Had she still been desperate for the plants around her to respond, the actual fact one of the trees seemed to bend slightly forward would have surprised her. A sudden flurry of twigged branches rained down upon the man who, much to his now never-ending horror, couldn't move. His feet were tangled in thickly grown weeds, roots and plants. Had those even been there when he moved to that particular spot? He was attempting to cover his face by raising his arms and cried out. "Gods, no! PLEASE, stop, what is happening?! Make them STOP! Oh god, oh god!!" Although his face was mostly spared from the assault, his clothes were already beginning to tatter where he was stricken. And they wouldn't stop, not soon.

The nymph stood frozen in place, gazing up with big, round pink eyes. The whispers around her grew stronger, inarticulate but meaningful to her mind. An interpretation of feeling more than a recognition of words.

Blacwin had come from a path quite in contrast to her own. In addition to that, he had fought to bring 'peace and harmony' to others, namely in the form of not one, but three seperate crusades. Spreadin' the love there. Or not. The yelling from in the tree was ignored, and the other was now dealing with the roots growing rapidly from the ground... Where was the third? That was when he spotted him, trying to angle away from the disastrous attempt at enslavement off towards the direction of the path that caught his attention.

Without fully moving, he raised a hand and drew in on the aether again. A long, thin strand this time that thickened into the golden shape of an arrow... that with a gesture from his fingers, was flung in the direction of the sneaking one. He staggered, and the 'arrow' impacted clean into the side of his neck. The scowl on Blacwin's face momentarily returned. He had not been aiming to outright kill the man, merely to send him running off with his metaphorical tail between his legs and injured enough not to cause any trouble. But he spasmed on the ground, clutching at the now open wound in his neck as the 'arrow' disappeared and faded when the elf released the magic. Well, that was one down, two to go.

The one in the tree got his attention next, although he stood in such a way that he could view the nymph and the snared one at the same time. "How is it you want them dealt with..." He was almost uncertain for a moment, eyeing the flowers on her.. the pigmentation of her skin, the vines. "...miss?" Did her kind even respond to human terms? His species relation skills were somewhat lacking, obviously, as his tone had almost been awkward. He was however, quite prepared to get rid of the other two as well, leaving no loose ends in the process.

The nymph almost dumbly stared at the man who now lay dead, once she had heard the strangled choking and blubbering sounds. She was actually shocked and sank to her knees, clasping her hands in front of her mouth. His question was a little late, no? "Please, let them go." A tiny voice, scarcely above a whisper, was all she managed.

The tree stopped its beatings and the weeds and roots untangled the man's feet. He was weeping like a little child that had been spanked. Or rather, a grown man who hadn't even had a beating like this from his ma's iron hand when he was just a short lad. A few minor wounds were certain to leave scars, but other than that he was mostly just beaten red and bruised and likely had to spend a few weeks sleeping facedown to give his back a break. He was already stumbling for a getaway, leaving his dead mate and the dangling man behind.

The third man's face was swollen red like a tomato by the time she looked up. Her moment of rage had subsided. These men were out of the running for a while now, they had paid their dues. Therefore her expression was one of worry when she got to her feet and looked at the elf. She hesitated to address him, eyes lingering on his mauled side of his face perhaps a bit too long. "Kind sir, is it within your powers to bring him down from there?"

Blacwin, even with his keen ears, had not heard her plea to let them go. At least if she asked him why he had killed him, he could reason that some loose ends were better to tie up, and that it would further enforce the idea not to make the same mistake again in the eyes of the other two. The earth would reclaim his body and draw what nourishment it could from the corpse in time, so it was not entirely a waste.

He watched the other run for a moment, keeping his attention on him right until he went out of sight, before turning back towards her and sheathing the sword. No wiping the blood off however, and there were faint signs of old stains and dirt on the metal if it was. If the injury did not get the would-be slaver, infection might well kill him if he did not get it treated swiftly enough. A brow rose however, when she asked him so politely. The lingering look he was used to at least, although his lips thinned for a moment.

"As you wish...". Oh, but he couldn't resist messing with him. Raising him up marginally after drawing in for the third time on the magic at his fingertips, he moved him aside from the branch for a moment, then dropped him... then caught him again with the strands of thin, greenish magic just a few inches from the ground. Just messing with him. Finally he let him drop the last few harmlessly to the forest floor, and released the tendrils from his ankles.