Open Chronicles Even in The Coldest of Days...

[Alco]

Sylvian

The cold air froze through much of Elbion. The water outside was frozen if it was not stopped by man-made influences. Icicles hanged from the rooves and windows of houses or sale stalls. This was definitely one cold snap during even the winter months such as now. When Alco walks around in his nice and warm winter outfits, a great wool-lined jacket and little ear muffs to keep his elven ears warm. His wings were still hidden with the help of magic but secretly he had them wrapped around himself as another layer of warmth from the cold. Even though they were a potential prized trophy for hunters and collectors alike in the outside world, they still had their use. Even if that use was not what they were meant for.

The cold snapped opened up a lot of opportunities to grab a hot drink of hot chocolate as well, which Alco had been sipping on as he looked at the stalls and what was for sale. It was then he would come across an elf who was sculpting an ice sculpture. A bit away from everyone else but considering how ice was being flung everywhere then he understood why as some of it sprayed onto his head.

After covering his face with his arm from the spray of ice bits the avariel chuckles looking at the sculpture leaning against the wall as the silver-haired elf worked on it, "Looks good. How long did it take you exactly?" He asks her looking at the details in it that were already formed.

 

[Sylvian]

The elf had grown to like Elbion. The city was beautiful – and troubled – but the atmosphere was friendly enough for Sylvian to set up shop and do a little work. Her sculpting was especially appreciated during the colder seasons and even though Sylvian’s ice never melted regardless of temperature, the mortals seemed all the more charmed by her figurines, sculptures and decorations during the more festive months of the year.

Equipped with chisel and hammer, Sylvian stepped around a large, reindeer-shaped sculpture. It’s still a work in progress, but the creation was slowly coming together, much to the snow haired’s delight. Her attention was suddenly caught by something else however, when someone approached and gave a compliment to her work. “Why thank you,” Sylvian spoke and flashed the little man a friendly smile. “It’s been about two hours I would say.” Of course she could speed up the process with a little bit of magic, but Sylvian enjoyed the genuine work she was doing.

“This one’s a special request though. A wealthy merchant wants to decorate the small garden by his shop.” This was a frequent occurrence and a secure way for the she-elf to earn her coin. After making some more improvements Sylvian finally halted to give her visitor a closer look. He was dainty, with pale skin, hair like her own and beautiful, violet eyes. Naturally, the elf recognized her own kind (to an extent) and her smile grew wider.

“Would you like to make a request, or are you just marveling?”

 

[Alco]

Alco smiles recognizing the smile of recognition. He’d approach closer to get a better look at the work of art. “No, just marveling.” He waves a hand in the air infront of the sculpture. “Such a shame they will melt in the end though, but I guess that’s what happens with ice.”

He shrugs switching to Avariel elvish he would whisper, “What are you doing so far from our city? Sight seeing?” He asks the other avariel poking at some of the ice on the ground. “You know too well that the other races would love to cut off your wings as a trophy for their hearth or hall the first chance they get.” He warns her. She was a few inches taller than him but then again he was a rather short Avariel given how a lot of them were a good bit closer or over six feet in height.

He was simply concerned for someone else of his own kind. The other races of elves (other then Sky Elves) were murderers of their own kin. Humans were greedy, and always at war with other people. The Empire was a huge example as well as recent events with the Falwood and the Dreadlords clashing.

The other races were always looking for unnecessary bloodshed but the Avariel were one of the direct victims of their dull minds and need for what they could not have. Viewing the most uncommon person or item as an object they can just take. Be it city, gold, or just a simple forest.

 

[Sylvian]

“It’s magical ice,” said Sylvian. Her fingers slid around the deer’s antlers and a little sparkle flared up. The ice shaping the antlers became smooth and shiny and showcased a magical effect. “All of it could be done with magic, but it simply doesn’t feel as genuine,” the she-elf explained to her peer and nodded at her tools.

“But I still like to use a little bit to keep the ice from melting away during warmer days.” Sylvian gave Alco a wink of mischief before continuing her work.

Her clients knew that Sylvian’s sculptures were wonderfully long lasting, or else they would never spend as much money – any – on them as they did. Without magic, the elf would have to find a different profession, but this is what she enjoyed doing most.

Then, the other elf spoke to her in Avariel elvish and Sylvian, who hadn’t heard the language of her people in a long time, smiled a bittersweet smile. “I live here now,” she responded quietly. “I know that.” She nodded at him, grateful for the warning, but Sylvian had been visiting the realms of the wingless folk for decades – she knew her way around.

“But not all of them are bad, and not all of them want to hurt us.” Sylvian’s experiences with other people had been limited and the closest bond she’d ever formed was with a woman long gone, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t willing to try. She looked the other elf up and down and decided to give a quick introduction.

“My name is Sylvian.”

 

[Alco]

Alco gives her a raised eyebrow with a curious look, "Loose lips sink ships. Just be careful with who you let know what you are if any." He would give her a slight bow, "Alco. I'm a watcher. Don't worry I don't spy on our own kin usually." He looks at the tools then at the ice sculpture.

He had always wanted to use some magic other than his astral magic but he for some reason never could get the hang of it. Even with special instruction and hours of practice. But he supposed that that was a bright side to the job he had chosen within their society. He could just wipe out an army with one spell if the requirements were met or do massive damage, all the while bending light to use as he wished or to heal himself.

"I always wanted to learn something other than the magic I use now. Just seems a lot easier then relying on the time of day or if the area has high enough magical energy within the area." He gives her a slight smile, "What was the most challenging piece you were commissioned to make?"

Sylvian

 

[Sylvian]

“I know that,” the she-elf responded quietly. Sylvian understood Alco’s concern, but it reminded her of the dispute with her family. The Avariel had every reason to fear mankind, but Sylvian never wanted to cower under that fear like the rest of her people had done. She wanted to see the world the way it was, and she was willing to take risks to have that experience.

“I always wanted to be a Watcher,” she said with a hint of envy in her voice. Her parents never allowed this, and thus she had chosen a different profession instead. “I used to be a Medic, but I don’t spend much time in Thyasari anymore.” Sylvian didn’t want to go into detail as to why things were that way, and so she returned her attention to her sculpture.

When Alco expressed his desire to learn something other than magic, she looked up to him and smiled. It was an honest goal and she would encourage him to find something that suited him. “You should, it’s very fulfilling.” Aside from art, Sylvian could be found playing the piano or the harp and singing in taverns and inns every once in a blue moon, but music was something she only rarely practiced these days.

“During the summer season I was approached by an Orc Chief who asked me to sculpt his third wife, whom I had never seen before. I hadn’t seen many orcs overall, so that was quite the challenge. It turned out fine though, and he paid me handsomely for my work.”

While the two Avariel were enjoying idle conversation, neither of them seemed to notice that they had caught the attention of some shady looking individuals.

 

[Alco]

Alco would scratch his head, “I already got my dual blades. But I suppose I can embroider pretty good. Though I did mean learn new magic. Kind of stuck with the one I have, not the best with the other kinds.” He’d sigh.

The fact that orcs were into marrying more then one of their kin was still something which Alco had to think about. It had its benefits for sure, but surely there would be in fighting amongst them unless they somehow came up with standards or something along those lines.

“As long as the work was done and you got paid that’s all that matters but it is kind of unfair for him to ask of such a request. Maybe he was into what the fates would give him if he was searching for his third wife.”

Though in terms of her wanting to be a watcher but her parents not allowing it did make him a bit said. The training was definitely tough as well as the teachings. Particularly to graduate. The job could be dangerous at times but any job could given individual circumstances.

”If they believe in those sort of things. Say have you ever sculpted something I don’t know, dragon sized or bigger then a horse out of thin air?”

Alco’s ears would twitch some as he spoke finishing up his drink and burning up the cup with some astral magic.

Sylvian

 

[Sylvian]

Surprised by Alco’s suggestion, Sylvian put her hammer and chisel down and contemplated for a moment. He is right. The Orc could have been looking for his third wife and merely gave his expectations to her, so he could finally see what he was looking for. What an interesting turn of events that would have been. Sylvian smiled at the thought.

“I have not, but I could. It would be a waste of my resources however,” she replied and shrugged. With her tools still in hand, the female elf continued along with her work and offered Alco a seat by her stand. “Have a seat if you’d like,” she said with a smile. “It’s nice to speak to someone of my own kind again.” It’s nothing Sylvian would ever admit in front of her family, but she did miss home – sometimes.

But then again, the mortal continents offered far more interesting things than Thyasari after a hundred years of living there. “Since you’re a Watcher who doesn’t spy on his own kind,” she arched a brow, suggesting that even if he did she would find out, “who do you spy on instead? Does mortal business relate to us in any way?” Sylvian always expected the Watchers to be exposed to an unreasonable amount of danger – that’s why her parents had never allowed for her to become one.

But Alco seemed fine. Satisfied, even.

 

[Alco]

Alco gladly takes a seat, sitting down against the wall, “I said usually I dont spy on our kin. Just depends you know.” The avariel shrugs.

”We just keep tabs on these guys down here maybe get involved if we decide to, but in the end we just follow what those above want us to do. Got to keep our people caught up with the turbulent life of the surface somehow. Mostly I just travel around and pop into cities or towns from time to time.” He would twirl a finger in the air.

“Of course it’s dangerous at times but atleast Im not spending centuries back home.” He would give a slight smiles before getting up, “I’m going to get another of those hot drinks want one Sylvian?” He asks her in common as a few elves walk into the small area and one punches Alco in the gut making him hunch over some holding his belly while backing up against the wall. He would then be charged at by a huge brute of an elf (which was quite surprising) but he’d just jump out of the way kicking the brute into the wall instead.

(Leaving it up to you what to do with the others and how many more there are bc for now bed time for me lol)

Sylvian

 

[Ferelith Scathach]

“If you’ve got no coin shove off you broke gutter trash!” A large man with a big barrel chest and a beard red as the blazes of hell threw a small blonde out of the tavern in the square.

She landed in a heap.

Sliding a few feet before coming to a rest a
distance away from the couple talking around ice sculpture.

This was mostly lost in the rabble that milled about in the squares this time of year, and was not an event of note. She started to pick herself back up.

Wiping the blood from her nose she cursed under her breath able to begin to bring herself to her hands and knees before a boot planted itself on her back and shoved her back to the hard ground.

“Watch out.” The brute said gruffly putting his full weight into the step driving the air from Ferelith’s lungs as he and his group made its way towards the sculptor and her admirer.

Why? She didn’t know. Who? She didn’t care. She let them pass finally pullherself up to crouch on a single knee.

Her bloodshot eyes were glowing a slight tinged blue from the arcane energy flowing in her blood already rushing into the whites of her eyes. She saw the confrontation as the group rushed the male elf.

At least she guessed he was a knife ear by how he carried himself with the kind of grace and ease of elegance that made her want to punch him in the nose just for looking so perfect.

Her eyes however fell on the brute that had stepped on her as he rushed the elf only to be kicked into the wall behind the man he had attacked. Ferelith was already running. She hit the man at full tilt. Her shoulder fracturing as her blistering speed carried her into the back of the man and through the rather solid wall.

She pulled him out of the rubble by the front of his shirt. The brute to his credit, had remained conscious enough to land a solid right hook into the slip of a girls face. She released his shirt and fell back as her head snapped back. “What the hell was that?” He asked incredulously glancing behind him at the hole this small girl had forced him to leave.

As the girl...stood back up?

“Don’t step on people.” She spat.

Literally.

Spat a bit of slightly sparkling blood and two teeth.

“Well common then.” He responded drawing a long dagger.

“Fair enough.” she said with a slight slur before she rushed him.

She ducked his first slash firing a punch into his chin and laying him out cold with a crunch of both his jawbone...and every one of her left knuckles and wrist. The strike sending him flying and landing heavily in the rubble left by her tackle, but not before he drove his dagger into her left side.

She grunted in pain but kept up her onslaught jumping on top of his heap of a body and firing a few more punches into his face breaking his nose the other way and blacking both his eyes before standing.

Her sober thoughts finally catching up with her drunken rage. The guard would be showing up to something like this..What was she thinking..She saw only more conflict outside the hole she had left.

Picking up the man she threw him out with all her strength firing the massive man like bullet into the two closest to the hole. What exactly was happening she couldn’t tell but the sounds of fighting were there. She peaked her head out.

“You fat knife eared garbage!” She spat at the man before she sank back inside. She almost hoped back into the fray but her breathing was already getting heavier from the wound that had begun bleeding harder.

“no offense to you two..” She added to the two others being attacked sticking her head back out and yelling over the fray.

She then turned, and ran further back into the structure, and glanced between her still useless left hand and the door knob.

She kicked open the back door not losing speed as she fled.

Her glowing tattoo started flickering as she ducked off down alleys unknowingly leaving an easily seen trail of blood for anyone looking for it. She finally came to rest as her wound would not allow her to keep carrying on. Leaning on a wall and sinking down to her butt.

“It’s ok..It’s ok..Your fine..Just need..” her fingers fumbled with the injecting bottle of a glowing blue liquid.

A rare and odd device. She had only ever seen used in a few places by people outside of her...circles.. She pulled the dagger free as her tattoo flickered faster and her wound half closed before the healing halted. Passing out from pain and loss of blood before she could even pull the tool she needed out of the pouch she hung around her neck.

“Damnit..” She cursed as her vision began to darken and she gave herself to the peace of darkness.

Sliding from the wall until she rested on the cold ground.


“Now look what you’ve done...If this is how we die I am personally going to ensure your afterlife is a total cluster-..” She slipped out of consciousness drowning out the voice in her head.

“Do you hear me! Now wake up and jam that thing into your neck before you bleed out!” Ferelith blinked slowly.

“You do..it..” She protested with a slur more from her injuries than her quickly sobering mind.

“Your still too drunk or I could. That’s what you get for drowning me out and getting into fights with barely any arcane power you stupid meat sack.” The voice snapped annoyed.

“Fine..just give me a minute..Only..have one hand working right now..” She muttered.

 

[Sylvian]

“It’s what I’m doing right now,” the snow elf said and blinked with surprise. The Watcher’s reputation was said to be much more exciting and dangerous, but in hindsight it seemed to be similar to her own lifestyle as of the recent years. Sylvian spent her days travelling from city to city, exploring the continent and getting involved with all sorts of people, but only when she felt like it.

The Avariel smiled at his last words. “Right,” she agreed with a nod. “At least we are not spending centuries at home.”

When Alco changed into common tongue, Sylvian did the same. “Yes please, and thank you.” A warm drink sounded nice, but not because of the cold. Sylvian didn’t freeze after all, due to her magical affinity to frost and ice. The she-elf was still occupied by her ice sculpture when chaos broke out.

Alco was being attacked, seemingly out of nowhere, and Sylvian squirmed when she saw him being punched into the gut and shoved into the wall. Luckily, her fellow Avariel was quick on his feet and able to defend himself. “What, why–Are you okay?” The snow-haired woman dropped her tools and quickly hurried over to assist her companion, when she had to step back to dodge another incoming flurry of punches, kicks and people.

Sylvian urgently removed herself from the obvious brawl that was going on, but never lost sight of the participants. Alco seemed fine, but another (human?) woman who had somehow arrived not so much. Sylvian’s concern for her grew with every second, but once the fight was over she disappeared as quickly as she had shown up, although the trail of blood would clearly show the path she had gone.

For now, Sylvian rushed over to Alco and kneeled down beside him.

“Seven hells, these people sure are moody,” she said quietly, no longer speaking Avariel elvish. “Are you alright? Do you need healing? If not, I think the girl who just darted off is injured,” she said and her eyes followed where Ferelith had gone.

“I think I might just have to chase after her.”

OOC: Sorry for the delay, I took a bit of a break. And thank you for joining our thread Ferelith Scathach!

 

[Alco]

Ferelith Scathach Sylvian (Lets do this now I have returned sorry guys work is a b-word)

Alco coughs a few times as he regains his breath, "Nay I'm fine, just got the wind knocks out of me. Though what I would give to go and get the human some help. She at least deserves that much." The Avariel would stand up with the support of the wall and perhaps Sylvian before he'd look at the trail of blood and start to follow it, "Not exactly the first time I been punched in the gut, don't recommend it."

He would rub his stomach some before motioning to Sylivian, "Come here, I don't want to be running around right now with there maybe being more hunters. I'll just make it harder to see you at least." He does just that to himself almost turning completely invisible. If she decides to take it or not it was not his issue but either way he would go and follow the blood trail at a quick pace.

 

[Ferelith Scathach]

“Wake up someone’s coming.” Ferelith’s eyes snapped open, but her body refused to move. How long had she been out.

It must have only been a few minutes. The pool of blood around her hadn’t grown..that much..The chill in the air caught her breath as she exhaled and tried to shift her weight against the wall and pull herself up.

This resulted in a quick faceplant and a string of curses in her own tribes tongue as well as common. She was still wounded. Her healing must have reached its limit. She looked for her syringe.

She had lost it in her tumble. Damn it all! She coughed staining the snow around her mouth with the black sludge of her blood. The red blood slowly giving way to dark sticky globs of ick.

They even seemed to move on their own for a bit before falling still. Her body was starting to shut down again. But those foot steps didn’t mean whomever was coming was friendly... It could be those guys she had just beaten up coming to finish the job. She pulled herself up onto her hands and knees.

Another heave and another splash of blackish red across the snow. She crawled further for a few more feet leaving a pretty obvious trail before finally collapsing into a snow drift.

Her breathing shallow.