- Messages
- 651
- Character Biography
- Link
"We are not. Doin this."
Zael glared at his fellow Initiates. Three of them, at least. There had been just the faintest noise coming from the foliage and Zael had surreptitiously gone there, thrust his hand into the bush, and tossed out the culprit who now lay on the forest floor among the circle of Initiates. A small elven boy. Young, his large eyes filled with equal parts fear and loathing.
Zael had seen the looks on the faces of Graham, Sieglilly, and Bull. He knew what idea had entered into their minds the second they saw the elven child.
And of course they thought it. The Serandil Valley in Falwood was Fellowship through and through—there wasn't an elf in this entire goddamn crater that wouldn't stab an Anirian if given the chance. Their mission here was simple, and meant to improve each of their ability to perform covert actions (or maybe because the Proctors just wanted some number of them to get killed by fanatic elves, who knew). All they needed to do was infiltrate the Valley, observe the movements of elves for a week, and exfiltrate to make a report about it. Without getting detected of course, which was pretty close to a death sentence anyway without the Proctors' stipulation. The Valley was huge but teeming with hostiles, and there was only one way in or out unless you wanted to try scaling up cliff walls nearly a hundred feet high.
Very high marks were on the line along with their lives. And they had been so close. Tomorrow was the day they could finally get the hell out of here.
And now it was all in jeopardy.
Graham, the short boy with the intense and beady eyes, looked up from the boy to Zael. Shook his head grimly. "We can't let him go."
Sieglilly, the armless girl with the TK powers, looked shaken by the turn of events but empowered by a force of necessity, "Graham...Graham's right, Zael. Our mission is clear."
Bull, the large and hairless Initiate, had no trouble like Sieg did. His downward gaze on the boy was predatory. Mercilous. "Very clear."
The elven boy (whose name, unbeknownst to them all, was Illim) simply looked at the Anirians in their stealthy campsite, saying something accusatory in a tiny, hollow tone, his words in Elvish.
Zael repeated himself. "We are not." And for added emphasis, thrusted his forefinger down toward the ground, as if planting a flag to mark his stance on the matter. His eyes were blazing. "Doin this."
A deliberation would follow, upon which hung great peril for all involved.
Zael glared at his fellow Initiates. Three of them, at least. There had been just the faintest noise coming from the foliage and Zael had surreptitiously gone there, thrust his hand into the bush, and tossed out the culprit who now lay on the forest floor among the circle of Initiates. A small elven boy. Young, his large eyes filled with equal parts fear and loathing.
Zael had seen the looks on the faces of Graham, Sieglilly, and Bull. He knew what idea had entered into their minds the second they saw the elven child.
And of course they thought it. The Serandil Valley in Falwood was Fellowship through and through—there wasn't an elf in this entire goddamn crater that wouldn't stab an Anirian if given the chance. Their mission here was simple, and meant to improve each of their ability to perform covert actions (or maybe because the Proctors just wanted some number of them to get killed by fanatic elves, who knew). All they needed to do was infiltrate the Valley, observe the movements of elves for a week, and exfiltrate to make a report about it. Without getting detected of course, which was pretty close to a death sentence anyway without the Proctors' stipulation. The Valley was huge but teeming with hostiles, and there was only one way in or out unless you wanted to try scaling up cliff walls nearly a hundred feet high.
Very high marks were on the line along with their lives. And they had been so close. Tomorrow was the day they could finally get the hell out of here.
And now it was all in jeopardy.
Graham, the short boy with the intense and beady eyes, looked up from the boy to Zael. Shook his head grimly. "We can't let him go."
Sieglilly, the armless girl with the TK powers, looked shaken by the turn of events but empowered by a force of necessity, "Graham...Graham's right, Zael. Our mission is clear."
Bull, the large and hairless Initiate, had no trouble like Sieg did. His downward gaze on the boy was predatory. Mercilous. "Very clear."
The elven boy (whose name, unbeknownst to them all, was Illim) simply looked at the Anirians in their stealthy campsite, saying something accusatory in a tiny, hollow tone, his words in Elvish.
Zael repeated himself. "We are not." And for added emphasis, thrusted his forefinger down toward the ground, as if planting a flag to mark his stance on the matter. His eyes were blazing. "Doin this."
A deliberation would follow, upon which hung great peril for all involved.