Forums » Fantasy Roleplay » For the Crown of Laurels (closed)

By the time Gweyr's eyes have found her, Amara has already looked away towards something else. Is that...a human among the hopefuls? What-? The voice in her mind, however, causes her attention to snap back to the ranger. Her eyes above her veil are wide and...fearful? Yes, Gweyr can definitely sense fear in this woman's heart but beneath the swirling storm of uncertainty that whips across her heart is a solid rock of purpose and determination upon which the woman stands. She seems to plant her metaphorical feet there now.

Amara's hands grip themselves into fists at her side and her grey eyes, a moment before wide with shock and terror, now narrow in distaste and immovable resolve. Get out of my head. It's the only answer or response Gweyr will receive before the tall elf shuts her mind down from outside contact. She is no empath like the ranger. She cannot sense the thoughts or feelings of others and her magic tends to be rather wild and untrained, but she has become quite adept at keeping others out of her thoughts.

Amara shoots the beautiful Gweyr one last rather nasty look before returning her attention to the council. If the ranger wishes an actual answer to her question or to ask any others, she will have to approach Amaranthine in the usual way of those who cannot speak into the minds of others.

Another of the council spoke, the elf's visage forever serene. Lord Nemoto was probably one of the more mysterious and farther removed than the rest of the council, as it was he who headed the Board the oversaw most of the prestigious arcane academies that were speckled throughout Urdu.

It was...interesting to say the least, seeing the collection of faces standing before them. Some familiar and unfamiliar...the Lady Gweyr of the Rangers, it would have been a mishap not to see any of those currently in the elven ranks here in this gathering, and she was certainly a worthy candidate if the stories of her prowess stood the test. The young Haleri boy, curious, was it ambition that drove him, or something else? And perhaps most intriguing of all, the specter that he had occasionally seen flitting about the Palace...perhaps, during these trials, it would at last be revealed about the true identity of that young elf in the brown hood. The human, too, would be an surprising and interesting addition to the fray, if his readings were correct...

He tented his fingers, his wandering thoughts never once disturbing the calm of his neutral, calm expression. "Any further questions, should you have them, may be asked upon the gathering early in the morrow, at the maze's entrance, a mere ten miles east of the city. May the gods watch over you, and the greatest of you prevail."

The guards at the entrance to the audience chamber opened the large, wooden double doors that belayed the faerie lights within outside into the waning dusk, allowing the competitors to exit if they so desired.

A maze. Alright. She had never been to the famed hedges that she had occasionally seen from her window during those days, but it seemed that it would change now. She hadn't really looked around to see who the rest of her competition was, keeping her face shadowed by her brown hood and cloak; her attention was only inevitably arrested when Gweyr burst in with her company. A pang of brief jealousy had sprung then, only to die away quickly into some sense of loss. Wow. If only she too could have someone at her back during this whole ordeal. But aside from that small acknowledgement of the newcomers' presence, she did her best not to draw any attention to herself.

Xyla knew of a couple of people who could've possibly searched for her when she suddenly vanished from Haramon those years ago, and still she had made sure that she would not be found. She fidgeted lightly with the brass clasp upon her cloak, warm from contact. But, alone or not. She was determined. It was the least that she could do, to honor her forsaken name.

The young elf was more than grateful when the doors opened at last. Quickly, she made her way past people and through the large doors, seeming to disappear over the hill, avoiding anyone's eyes and ignoring any who tried to get her attention.

When the rest of the announcements, Corym took his time making his way to the door. Now he had a chance to scope out his potential competition, and consider the faces of who he might find himself standing by tomorrow in the first trial.

Seeing Gweyr, his face turned sour once more. While he knew full well that they were at war, Corym had no love for the soldiers that battled on the front lines. She did seem like a worthy fighter to appear before the court with an entourage. He only hoped that if she weren't on his side, she would lose within the first few trials. A warrior who strayed from civilization would surely make a tyrant who knew no softness.

Then there was Liam, Corym couldn't get a good read on what the boy was thinking, but the demeanor of which he carried himself coupled with his regalia spoke of highborn status. Nobles, they could be a mixed bag of resourceful managers with a knack for forethought, or the worst of control freaks with a penchant for stepping on one another for more power. Either way, Corym didn't look forward to finding out.

Amaranthine was another such hard to read person from the outside. At the beginning she had appeared meek and anxious, her embarrassment plainly showing from an unfortunate speech impediment. However, some tensions seemed to spark between Gweyr and her, turning Amara from pitiful to imposing. Most interesting, Corym wondered what she sought to gain from being here.

Then Corym took notice of the other Human that had arrived, not by the company of the ranger, but by some strange force. Were they here to compete as well? What stake did a human have in maintaining the status quo of elves? Goodness knew their race needed a change, even if it came in the form of an ambitious and short lived human. But that uncertainty also made Corym nervous about what they'd do with the power once given to them.

And finally there had been the hooded figure. Were they human too, or elven like the rest of them? Corym questioned why they would need to hide themselves when he, a 'criminal' by judgement had come to take part without even hiding who he was. He pondered if they too could be a victim of the Council's machinations, or if they had some other agenda and it wouldn't do to be seen.

Either way, Corym thought the next day would be a very interesting one. He kept his pace slow, wondering if he ought to speak with any of them, or if that would be foolish and give away his intentions or personal advantages.

For Amara to easily block psychic communication was impressive and made her arch a bow. Lady Gweyr did not expect such resistance. In her experiences, the Ranger had defeated an Illithid once; a monstrous humanoid aberration with dark psionic powers; but even it could not resist her telepathic mastery. Of course the creature was aggressive with more offensive desires, so she was able to use psionic inundation, launching psi-bolts into him that caused brain damage; afterwards its thralls and slaves went insane hacking on their commander, a Drow Priestess who came on the surface as a threat to the Urdu forest. With her Illithid destroyed her purpose failed and the Priestess was cut down and easily slaughtered by her own rebellious people. Gweyr had even taken in some of these drow males, a broken number of slaves who were captured from the Underdark and made them free citizens of this very capital.

Amara on the hand, was defensive and showed a determined will. Even though Gweyr had only used a basic spell, it still let her know that the elf was serious about being here. She would not have used her advanced spells like Mind Melding: The ability to fuse one's consciousness with another; or Mind Walking: The ability to enter the mind of another; for such would have been unfair trickery. Instead she used an honest attempt to communicate with her privately, since they were in a public session.

Albeit when Lord Nemoto spoke and ended the introductory, the guards opened the gates and it was time to depart. It also offered them a chance to mingle before dawn. Gweyr relaxed now and swayed her neck back and forth, letting her old bones crack. The challengers started to depart one by one, obviously not interested in socializing, but Amara still remained in the room. Curiously, Gweyr stood to leave her brothers and Valens to go join her.

"My Lady, please. We should rest. The morrow always come quicker for the tired." Valens held her arm.

Green hues turned on the human, with prudence, yet they held their own eager rebellion. Valens would feel like he had committed treason, how she gazed at him, thus her tone was sweet. "If you are tired, dear Valens...then you should rest." The woman said, her voice deep and powerful. Valens would sound like a prepubescent boy in comparison. "I'll be outside." He said, hesitantly departing. Gweyr exhaled that the human was gone. Not that he annoyed her, he was very noble, honorable and attractive, but he just had a lot to learn about her; he was so young and simple minded also.

Ewing and Akosh, were the total opposite, they knew how to enjoy their youth. They remained in the room, a few elfling girls followed them from outside and they seemed to all get along well; of course her brothers were adorable even covered in stinky orc blood. They shared goblets of wine with their new company, forgetting their big sister at the moment. The female was respected enough to handle herself. And so she went on to visit Amara as she had originally desired. Once she was away from the crowd and could see the Lady face to face, she took the woman's hand to bow before her and bring her tender knuckles to a pair of full lips.

"Forgive me for that earlier intrusion. I was just curious, Amaranthine." She greeted her by full name. "Gweyr Illy’vana," She released the woman's hand after the proper introduction, "And know that I am not in this for self. But to insure that the most worthy elf have the throne. I care about my people."

As the meeting ends and the doors are thrown wide, Amara finds some of her confidence waning once more. She knows she should return to her quarters and prepare herself for the next day, but should she not also get to know her competitors? Learn their strengths and weaknesses. Isn't that what a queen, a commander, would do? Communication is a two way street though. To expose her opponents would require her to expose herself in turn. No, better rely on her strength to see her through the next day and then go from there.

The tall elf woman is just beginning to turn towards the door when she notices Gweyr rise and begin moving very purposefully in her direction. Wide grey eyes lock onto pale blue and Amara can feel some of the anger and hatred she had been building up inside her for this woman begin to crumble. She truly is one of the most beautiful people the taller elf has ever seen. As the other draws near Amara suddenly notices that she is, in fact, just barely taller than the other woman. Perhaps only an inch at most. It is strange indeed to find herself looking directly into another's eyes without having to kneel or bend awkwardly.

If her cheeks had pinked when she exposed her speech impediment to the elders council, it is nothing in comparison to having this lovely and obviously noble creature bow before her and press soft lips against her work and battle calloused hand. The crimson of her cheeks reaches her neck and even peeks above the upper edge of her veil. How is it someone can still be so beautiful while covered in the gore of others? At this thought the smell of said viscera reaches the woman's particularly sensitive nose. It helps to shut down her embarrassment and attraction very quickly, as opposed to those silly fools who are currently fawning over this woman's brothers despite their reek.

"H-how-?" Amara stops herself before she asks the stupidest question imaginable. This woman must have stolen the name from within her mind. How else could she know it? Amara isn't well known in the capital. Only those on the outskirts, the border towns or the treetop settlements had reason to know of her. The she-elf feels sick to her stomach, wondering how much more this ranger might know of her now.

The wanderer nods her head to the noble as she introduces herself, though she gives her no more recognition than that. She is also careful to make sure her mental walls are well fortified should Gweyr decide to make another unwanted excursion into her mind.

"I acthept your apology. Pleashe don't let it happen again." There now. That almost sounded regal if it weren't for that stupid lisp of hers. "I'm afraid my goalsh may be more shelfith than yoursh, but I athure you, I altho care for my people. My ultimate goal...ith peash." Her blush darkens even further at having to speak so long in front of this much more elegant and refined creature to the point where she can feel her entire face turning a soft pink that nearly matches her strawberry blond hair. Still, she did it. She didn't back down or run away. She stood her ground and she said her piece. If nothing else, she can be proud of that.

Gweyr was very appreciative that Amara did not run away or swallow up in her fears. Confidence was a choice. When she stood in front of the Ranger and embraced her with regality and poise, Gweyr smiled, intrigued that she stood her ground. The tall women would see each other face to face. Gweyr’s own handsome face, flushed pink in areas that went against her will.

And even though she a noble, Gweyr mainly patroled the outskirts of Urdu, she often found herself very close to the boarder towns and tree top settlements, unfortunately she did not know this female by name or memory. So before Amara could finish her statement, without reading further, she answered.

“My brothers told me of you. The fact that they spoke to me of your name and no one else’s, speaks volumes to me.”

Her brow lifted, when Amara finally spoke more. It was hard to make out her words at first, over the joyous noise of a slightly soused and lively crowd, thus as she focused and channeled in, she realized that Amara had some very stern words to say—even a threat may have snuck from her struggling tongue. As kind or modest as it may have sounded, Gweyr took no threats lightly. Albeit, she was not here to shed the blood of her own people. That was not the way. The real enemy surrounded their forest and sought the ancient shrine. Gweyr did not allow her ego to get in the way of her purpose—a more noble purpose that required humility, sacrifice and understanding.

At Amara’s next words, she blushed again, yet she listened without judgement or retort. Politics was not her desire. She smiled kindly and said a few words of wisdom for the eager one to consider.

“Peace can not be obtained by the selfish. The heart is a terrible thing to trust...it can often condemn one self.” She said, her bassy voice was like a brass tone of a commander, or an opera singer that would frighten little girls when she spoke in the room.

Amara listens quietly to Gweyr speak, fingers plucking idly at the cuff of her sleeve as she does. Her eyes are locked on the other woman's face, looking for any sign of what she might be thinking or feeling, any clue that might help her understand such a beautiful creature. Is such a noble elf...blushing? How strange. What would she have to feel embarrassed about? She was confident enough before to burst into this meeting late and only offer an ounce of apology. The wanderer genuinely cannot think of any reason that might cause such an effect. They are only talking after all.

As for what Gweyr has to say to her, she can hear the wisdom in it. At the same time, she can't suddenly stop selfishly hoping to be Queen. She wants peace not only for her people, but for herself as well. Should only those who are happy in themselves and their lives attempt to gain the throne, giving up all that makes them happy in the process? Or is it possible that the lost and unfulfilled might finally find the direction they have sought by becoming the leader they never knew they wanted to be?

Besides, is it not Gweyr's heart that allows her to care for her people as she claims to do? Amara is not very experienced in such matters but, at least in her experience, the things that have been her downfall have been her pride, her fear and her anger. While such things are indeed fueled by the heart, so too are love, friendship and forgiveness. Those are the things that have seen her through when she thought even her strength would give out. The heart is a many faceted gem that must be constantly polished and kept clear of debris, and yes, perhaps it may condemn...but it can also save when no other light seem bright enough to follow.

Amara could try to explain her reasons, her hopes, her desires and her selfish decision to come here today, but the amount of words with 's's and 'th's such an lengthy monologue would require makes her shudder. She will have to settle for something shorter and simpler.

"I shank you for your wishdom, my lady. I thall keep it in mind. But I don't shink that peashe can be obtained by bloodthed eisher." Amara raises one, thin fingered and calloused hand to gesture at the smatterings of blood slowly drying on Gweyr's smooth and supple cheek. "Perhapsh shafety can. But peashe cannot." So many 's's...why, oh why can she not just speak normally?! Despite the lisp, Amara's voice is warm and gentle as a summer rain. She speaks softly in the hopes of mitigating her size and her pronunciation struggles, but it will still be obvious how lovely her voice could be raised in song. Not that she could ever be convinced to do so.

When Amara lifted her calloused finger and pointed out the dried blotches of scarlet, that made her pale image look imperfect, she just smiled confidently. It was so natural for Gweyr to be in the wilds, so she may have forgotten that she was physically unclean. She sniffed her tiny nose and embraced the fowl stench of orchish odors; a fragrance that so casually binded with her. Truly, she could not wait to cleanse herself from it—Gweyr was no savage.

Thus at the mention of peace being obtained without violence, Gweyr shook her head. They were at war. The former King Jhahardis Navishiéne, high King of the fourteen elven clans, may he rest in elven peace would roll over in his grave if he heard her speak against such things. All seven of his heirs died fighting in this war. As a warrior herself, she found the woman’s ideals hard to accept. But her uniqueness albeit uncanny, was ambitious nonetheless. Such mentality may have provoken even some ancient spirits in this chamber, but Gweyr was more than just a brutish Ranger who knew the fray. She held her own silver tongue that had liberated slaves and resurrected the foolish pathway of humans. She also believed that creativity and risk was needed to embrace the throne.

“Interesting, so you think the Orcs could be hastened with mere words?” She perked a brow, curiously. “Peace is a beautiful dream. One that we both share, indeed it would take the perfect balance. A little bloodshed and a little diplomacy. I prefer the latter, personally....those mindless beast refuse to hear our sweet words.”

At Gweyr's disdainful words, Amara's right eye twitches slightly. The thin fingers that are fiddling with the cuff of her soft pink dress twitch as well. Don't do it. You're not armed and the last thing you need is to get yourself disqualified before the competition even begins. Or killed. Still, every ounce of her heart, that traitorous monster the ranger had just warned her against, is screaming at her to punch this upper class witch in her smug face. All the curiosity and attraction she had felt just moments ago has burned cleanly away, leaving only her initial impression, now stronger and clearer than ever.

It takes several moments for the wanderer to find the strength to speak without swearing or hissing through her veil at her conversational companion. Finally, clearing her throat and standing just that little bit taller, she manages to respond with some semblance of calm. "Perhapsh tey do not hear our theet wordsh becaushe we do not take the time to thpeak in a way they underthand. I belief that peashe wifout violenshe is pothible, wif the right monarch."

The hand that had been tugging at her sleeve moves up to tug at her veil, making sure it is still securely in place before she continues. "I've thtudied the orcsh. Teir culture and language and people. Tere are waysh, if you are willing to look. We don't have to kill each osher for the retht of eternity."

"Well well, that's the first sensible thing I've heard from anyone among the competition yet." Corym said with a wry smile as he approached. He had been carefully listening in to the conversation between Amaranthine and Gweyr. "And here I was beginning to worry we'd end up with another Jhahardis on the throne, someone who changed nothing and leaves his people in peril once they're gone."

Compared to the two conversing, Corym was by no means a tall elf. It felt strange for him to have to look up to meet their gaze.

"You might want to be careful with what you say and do in the presence of present company, fair lady." There was a touch of cynical umbrage in his words to Amaranthine. "New ideas can be considered dangerous and grounds for treason if they meddle with pre-existing traditions unfortunately. Wishing better for our people too seems to be a crime in of itself if the politicians don't like how you propose it."

"And as for you." He said, turning to Gweyr, "How many more would you see sacrificed on the altar of war before this is over? I'm not so optimistic to think peace treaties are the best way out of this, but I don't think training more of our people to run out and die on the battlefield is a sound way of life either. If treaties are not the answer either, then perhaps it's time we start asking the hard questions. For instance, have you ever wondered why our lands wither without the shrine's power, while those outside our own continent seem to thrive without?"

His mean-spirited persona melted into deathly sincerity. "Just consider it a moment. If the next king doesn't seek to wrench the answer form our history, then this madness is bound to repeat itself. In that manner, we're no different than the humans we seem to condescend to, don't you think?"

As Varen started walking to the doors, his ears caught a murmur of a specific phrase throughout the quiet conversations that overtook the hall. It sounded distinctly like "Humans we seem to condescend to, don't you think? Varen, being a mage-of sorts- was immediately interested. After all, it wasn't every day that an elf admitted to being condescending. He quietly asked the darkness around him to point him to the conversation, and to tell him the gist of the conversation the speakers were having.

After receiving the directions, Varen wandered his way over to the three elves speaking, making sure not to take a direct path, as that would receive too much attention. He then stayed a certain distance away, showing interest, but not interrupting. It would be strange if a, well, stranger suddenly approached them and knew all about the conversation they had, would it not?

Still, they were discussing about rulership... and orcs. Specifically, how a ruler would deal with the orcs. Varen then wondered- is peace with the Orcs possible? It was their nature to fight, to kill, to slaughter. Their culture reflected that- tribal, with fights being a dominant way of ascending the social ladder. However, could it be possible for Orcs to overcome their nature? Would proper education and training- not brainwashing, not that- help them overcome it? Varen would by far prefer peace over war, but he would rather prefer war over self-genocide.

When the deep wood elf arrived to join their conversation, Gweyr stepped beside Amara, to allow him inside their circle. He openly warned Amara about the ideals of peace and chose to lecture her on sacrifice and the dependency upon the great Shrine of Mystalion. She smiled faintly. Discomfort was beginning to settle in, but not from his words. His words gave her a sense of intrigue. Instead she had sniffed her tiny nose, avoiding the itch from the dried orcish vital fluid; such needed to be cleansed from her ivory skin, else it could sicken her. And she needed to be in tact for the games. She would see her healer tonight.

Being a taller elf, she had to kneel a bit to take his hand. There she brought it to her tender lips, kissing the knuckle gently and sucking back the center of his skin with poise. When released, the ranger bowed and introduced herself sweetly, her voice baritone with a feminine prowess. "Gwyer Illy'vana."

Cold blue hues studied his face for a moment, but was more interested in his words, he had a lot of criticism in his tone, but held lesser solutions. "As I mentioned to Amaranthine, I think we must seek a proper balance. No kingdom has ever succeeded in history relying on words alone." She left that for the deep elf to consider.

"Unfortunately, my experiences with the orcs has been two centuries of violence. They are an aggressive people who value blood and honor, through the sword. So to answer your concern, yes I would train more elves to fight. No King or Queen has ever ruled without an army. In truth, these same elves who sacrifice their lives for our forests, do so for the defense of those who are surviving with their tongues. Because of this, our shrine is safe and we are winning this war, something for you to also consider."

That was when she felt her psionic defenses go up. It was a variation of clairvoyance that slightly weakened her. She leaned back into the nearest chair. Her Sensory Scyring was on alert: a passive spell that allowed her the ability to perceive through the senses of other beings. Cold blue hues looked up to see the human, feeling his shadows around them, listening to all that was previously said. "Interesting." She took a breath of exhaustion. Her gaze turned back up to Amara. "But as we were saying..."

Gweyr stood back to her feet. Ewing and Akosh had seen their sister weak and came over, abandoning those elf girls who could not tiller their wine. She told them both that she was fine through telepathy and they accepted her position, yet they remained near if needed. Valens, the Knight also came back inside, never leaving his eyes from her. He took her hand to help her up; he was handsome, with his longsword on his side, both sword and plate armor covered in rich orc scarlet; the wolf coat he wore over his shoulders said he was a true man.

"I think that Amarathine is onto something. If she has studied them like she claims, then there may be some hope that the beasts can one day be civilized. As for why we depend on our shrine, think about those who thrive with incurable diseases, yet we have none...the only ailment we have is those who threaten our forests. Just like an orc has a sword or a human has a statue, we have our shrine, it is our ancestry, our culture and to lose it would mean to lose who we are as a people."

Despite her growing dislike for the woman, when Gweyr suddenly begins to sway, her cheeks turning even paler than they already are, Amara is surprised to find herself moving forward solicitously. Before she has taken more than a few steps, however, the ranger's three male companions converge, leaving the other female to step back awkwardly. As she does, her large grey eyes linger on the handsome Valens as he passes her. Those cheeks of hers pink once more, but this time she is much more ready for it, pushing the feeling aside as the conversation returns once more to herself and her ideas.

The red headed elf has a point. It had never really occurred to her to consider why the shrine is necessary, just as it had never occurred to her to wonder why her hair was necessary or the sky was necessary. It simply was and had always been. Now that thought has been planted within her mind and will not leave, though she does not address it just yet. It is something to be considered and researched. At this moment in time all she has is speculation and that will get her no where. Perhaps if she is crowned more answers will be forthcoming. In any case, she has more to say on the matter of orcs. Of course, she always has more to say on the matter of orcs. Though now there are far more people listening...

Amara is forced to swallow hard before she can find the courage to continue, fingers beginning to wring themselves behind her back in growing discomfort with the current situation. "Shivilizathion ish different for different people. The humansh have theirsh." She offers a brief nod to Valens alone, as she has not yet realized that the other human in residence is listening. "The elfsh have theirsh. And the orcsh have theirsh. Yesh, it is bashed heavily on shtrengsh and brute forshe, but there are rulesh and ritualsh that guide it. It ish not mindlesh. They don't need to be 'shivilized.' They jushth need to be undershthood."

To a certain extent Amara knows that her dream of a bloodless end to the war is an impossible pipe dream. Even if she were able to claim the elven throne and then manage to navigate the myriad rituals and beliefs of each of the orcish tribes in her effort to bring most of them into a unified fold such that there was no more need to fight among themselves or the elves, there would always be hold outs who would buck their own tradition simply to avoid being forced into honoring any sort of treaty with the elves, no matter how beneficial it might be. There would always be those, like Gweyr here it would seem, that cannot thrive without battle and death. Still, better to hope for the best and plan for the worst as someone once told her. She cannot now remember who.

"The only ailment?" Corym bristled at Gweyr's tone of voice, and wiped the back of his hand off his coat in disgust. Her words did nothing to soothe or assure him, if anything they stirred ugly feelings within him.

"I guess then that ancestry and culture mean more than the lives of our people, who make that culture exist with them. I'm not a fool who thinks fighting is unavoidable and that soldiers don't serve a purpose in maintaining order, but order doesn't have to cost us this much either. Especially when it's as clear as day to everyone that the shrine is the crux of everything this trial stands on. You talk of our kind being without ailment besides our enemies, but what about the rot that is eating away at our forest? You mean to claim that it isn't the shrine's doing, but the Orcs as well?" He challenged, eyes raking into her with almost palatable loathing. "In that case, I have nothing more to say to you. "

Corym again turned back to Amarantine, his expression softening momentarily. "If you desire to find a solution to our problems through diplomacy, then I wish you the best of success with your endeavors. At least I know now that someone here has a clear head not full of propaganda and self-importance. I look forward to seeing if you succeed tomorrow."

He then turned to leave, wondering where he would spend the night in the city.

Amara blinks in surprise as the red head actually seems to wish her good luck in the competition tomorrow. That is certainly the last thing she expected upon arriving here among all these great and beautiful people. Especially from a fellow competitor.

"Sh-Shank you-" Before the words are even out of her mouth he is stalking angrily away. "W-wait! Your name! You never told ush your name!"

When Varen saw the redhead elf stalking off, after arguing rather passionately for his stance. Which, Varen admitted, was quite close to his. He was a little eager to talk to this elf, so he took a step forward.

Then stopped as the elf with the lisp asked for his name. No need to draw unwanted attention to himself.

He recalled the piercing blue gaze of that she-ranger. She knew, somehow, about his shadow talk. That alone made him wary of her. Her arrogance also made him highly annoyed- she was the archetypical elf. Still, he knew the shadows would tell him how she knew about them. He trusted them.

He stopped short momentarily in his withdrawal to respond. "Corym, of the Spectabilis household." He then made his exit into the outer hall, seeking to vacate the premises and proceed to the outer gates before more discourse could be had. Once he was out of view of the others, he gripped his right arm and took in a deep breath.

"How exhausting. And I still need an adequate place to lodge." He was thankful that he had the coin on him to pay for such, but wasn't sure if his reputation would permit him getting far enough to ask.

At a loss, he stopped to take another drink from his inner coat-pocket flask. The object fumbled to the ground before he could undo the stopper. Cursing, he forgot himself and reached down to retrieve it with his right hand, which had remained tucked out of sight in another pocket for the length of the Council gathering. Small vines poked out of his skin in a few locations, while others remained just beneath the surface, curling and writhing ever so slightly.

When Varen saw the elf- Corym- leave, he quietly glided(not literally) towards the elf. He was slightly slow, as he had to keep an eye on that she-ranger, but other than that, he kept up his progress.

When he exited the doors, he saw Corym bending over- but before he could see why, a shadow whispered for his attention- it was about the she-ranger. Upon hearing it's words, Varen's mouth drowned grimly. Great- a power psionic. Those types were annoying.

Elyria seemed to think so too- she hissed quietly in his ear, and starting prowling around his mind like a guard dog, muttering complaints against the "rude, self-absorbed psychics". Her words, not his.

After dismissing the shadow, he turned to face Corym, who was (probably) standing up at this point. Varen put on a burst of speed, and when he got close enough, he quietly called to the elf, "You, redheaded elf. Are you busy?" Even despite human social standards, he had to wince inwardly at that question. Not his best choice of words.

The deep elf was passionate in his arrogance, thus Gweyr remained humble, letting him go peacefully as he had desired. Instead of facing her after his words, he ran away like a cowardly boy.

Indeed this Corym had turned a good discussion into an argument; those are the kind of beings that stirred trouble instead of peace. She had dealt with many prideful fools in her lifetime and this would not be the first one. Amara had a great goal, to understand the orcs. Of course they were not mindless savages, but they were honorable warriors who lived and died by the sword. There was a hypocrisy there, Gweyr thought. How could an elf who was against the sword understand those who embraced it? She thought. Amara would need the ranger because she valued peace and respected the sword.

Like a diva, Corym had departed and the human ran after him. She was glad the human had left, his shadowy magic was irritating and offensive to this court room.

“Do not trust him.” She said to Amara, about Corym. “He will try to find the weakest and elevate their head, then he will try to destroy that person. I won’t let that happen.” She promised.

The hour was late, and she was exhausted after her long day, defending this forest. “I will take my leave now. It’s been a pleasure, Amarathine.”

With that she and her family, departed. Valens smiled at Amara, charmingly and soon the room had a lesser crowd.