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High Elf around Arandor - Asking Questions
Posted: Sun Aug 17, 2025 12:59 pm
by AuroraWR
It had been been several days since the rumors spread of an unknown High Elf showing up by ship in Arandor and leaving after checking some registries. The individual is now back, offering to buy people drinks in the tavern and asking questions to those who will lend an ear. "Excuse me. I’m seeking someone — possibly a craftsman in the area. She’s a High Elf woman — short for her clan, with silver hair and dark blue eyes. Lean. Muscular. Good with a sword. Works the forge, perhaps? Formal speech. Keeps to herself. She’d have arrived in town within the last two months or so. Ring any bells? I have something of hers I need to confer."
The tavern was quieter than usual, the low hum of conversation dimmed by the arrival of a stranger days prior—one who’d come by ship, asked too many questions, and returned to ask more. He sat near the hearth now, silver hair catching the firelight, eyes moving across each patron with the patience of a man used to not being refused. A mug of mulled wine sat beside him, untouched. Another sat across from it—offered, not ordered. The seat remained empty until Thalyn Oakshade filled it. No announcement. No clatter of armor. Just the quiet shifting of weight and presence, like a drawn blade resting on a table. The Law Bringer accepted the offered drink but did not sip. “You’re welcome to your questions, traveler,” Thalyn said, voice low and steady. “But tread carefully. Arandor does not look kindly on those who mask pursuit behind pleasantries. If your intentions are honest,” Thalyn continued, “you’ll find no obstruction. The Magistrate’s door is not barred to the earnest. People are on edge of late, and I would hate for there to be any unfortunate misunderstandings."
"Then I will be plain with you, Law Bringer."He leaned forward slightly, hands resting open on the table, as though to show he carried nothing that could be drawn. "I seek no quarrel with Arandor, nor to disturb the peace here. My errand is a small one—little more than the delivery of a token. Nothing that would harm the one it’s meant for. Once it is delivered, my purpose here is done, and I will be on my way." He let the words settle, measured and unhurried. "I am not here to pry into the affairs of your Magistrate. My path and purpose are short. I simply ask that it not be closed before I can take those few steps."
The Law Bringer had left it at that and the two parted ways in silence, though the High Elf from afar was beginning to fear his efforts were going to be for not. He wasn't sure exactly what had happened, but people seemed on edge and tight lipped. He'd give it another few days, but if by the end of the week no one spoke, he'd have to return back to his mentor empty handed... something he did not relish.
Re: High Elf around Arandor - Asking Questions
Posted: Sun Aug 17, 2025 1:00 pm
by AuroraWR
As Ettrian's writing were drawing close to an end, he felt the weight of the path ahead. He would return to Thorncrag. Arandor would be a distant memory across the ocean.
Despite having been raised in customs strange to Arandor, he was still a Hill Elf. His mind was practical, even literal at times. Emotions were an abstraction. He knew only one way to deal with them: liquor.
As such, he found himself going to the tavern more and more. And, in one such occasion, he overheard a conversation that caught his attention. Some High Elf foreigner searching for someone whose description matched one he'd recognize from leagues away.
Oralil.
So, when the fellow was alone, Ettrian grabbed his 14 still corked bottles of liquor, in an embrace, and changed tables, sitting in front of the stranger.
The hulking brawler, slightly wobbly already, his eyes having a hard time to focus, let a gauntlet fall on the table, with a loud thud, to get the High Elf's attention.
"Ahoy, chum", said drunk Ettrian, eyeing the fellow suspiciously. "I overheard you saying you're looking for a woman. Now, I ain't confirming I know her. Maybe I do. Maybe I don't. But if I did and she were my friend and liked fresh water and sharp swords, then maybe... Just maybe I could find her for you, ey? Or better, I could bring this token, whatever it is, to her. We're friends, she and I. Really, kensai siblings, almost. What? No, I don't know her. I didn't say that. Are you even paying attention? Anyways. Give it here. I'll pass it on with your message. If! If I knew her, that is."
Ettrian extends a massive hand towards the fellow, staring him in the eye, his eyelids blinking ever so slowly.
The High Elf in question noticed as the hulking bruiser of a Hill Elf moved over to his table. How could anyone miss him? The clanking of the glass bottles he held precariously in his arms was loud enough to herald his arrival, and the curling horns atop the messy blue hair looming near the ceiling. If he didn’t know better, the man would have assumed this was a Mountain Elf. Either way, one thing was certain… this fellow was sauced. That was no easy task for someone his size, a Hill Elf at that. Their constitution was impressive. Regardless, this one had managed to drink enough to overcome that so as he sat down and started to talk, the fellow smiled politely thinking perhaps something was starting to go his way finally. “If you knew her, you would deliver it… however you just said you don’t know her. You’ll have to excuse me if I don’t believe you enough to entrust this task to someone who clearly doesn't even know her name..." He eyed the fellow with his hand extended, waiting to see if he'd take the challenge
Ettrian looked down at his open palm, then cleaned it against the dire wolf fur mantle, assuming it was dirty; maybe some blood left, from whatever he was fighting that morning, that he didn't manage to scrub away.
"Tsk. Fine. You got me", said the small giant. "Never been a great liar myself. Yeah, I know her. I know Oralil. So... What's this all about? Is she in trouble?" Ettrian decided not to uncork another bottle. For now, at least. He felt a certain uneasy in the air, yet he wasn't sure if that was caused by the alcohol, by the subject or by the High Elf.
“Oralil” He said the name aloud and smiled, though something seemed off. It almost seemed like someone speaking a name for the first time, committing it to memory. “So you do know her. What I have to give her is a message, and I’ve been instructed to give it to her face to face. As for trouble, I couldn’t say. I’m just the messenger. Can you help me locate her?”
Ettrian stared at the individual for a time, then nodded. "Fine. But I'm coming along. Follow me", he said. First, he took the stranger to the arena, then the mines, then the river banks. Nothing. "Wait, I know", Ettrian said, snapping his fingers. "The forge." He took the High Elf into the merchant hall. And there she was. Covered in soot and sweat, hammering metal into shape, ever focused on the task at hand. A serious look upon her face, now familiar to the small giant. "All yours", said Ettrian, following behind the High Elf, still eyeing him suspiciously.
Re: High Elf around Arandor - Asking Questions
Posted: Sun Aug 17, 2025 1:00 pm
by AuroraWR
Oralil was indeed working in the forge, her long silver hair pulled together and knotted like a rope at the nape of her neck. The High Elf paused to watch her for a moment, the bridge of his nose wrinkling briefly in disapproval. "Congratulations, you did manage to find her.." His tone seeming to hold a double meaning as he closes the distance. "Oralil?"
She used the back of her forearm to wipe the sweat from her brow and straightened, taking a step back from the heat. As her eyes slowly, reluctantly, drug themselves away from her work to see the figure addressing her by name, her normally calm, flat expression faltered. A moment of surprise, followed by displeasure as she set her features firmly, defensively, and drew herself up to make herself as tall as her short form could reach. "... so she sent you." A moment later she noticed the looming figure of Ettrian further back and shot him a questioning glance. Eyes darting between the two men with uncertainty.
Ettrian shrugged discreetly, his expression confused, shooting glances at the stranger from behind his back. He gestures, behind the man's back, indicating he'll explain later. He crosses his arms, standing tall, like a mountain watching the exchange.
"I wouldn't have had to come, but she needed someone who knew your face since you went and changed your name, Alaloth."
Upon hearing his words, Oralil let out a breath that was almost a sigh... her eyes shutting briefly as if she'd taken a hit and needed a moment to recover. When they reopened, she hazarded a glance to the Hill Elf in back, gauging his reaction.
Ettrian raised his head slowly, brows furrowing, jaw set. A question stamped on his expression. "Alaloth?", he mouths the word. It is with this piercing revelation Ettrian realizes just how little he knew about his friend. The uneasy still there, he uncrosses his arms, leaving them free... in case he needed them.
Oralil’s face shifted in a flash of guilt and apology before her features school themselves, gaze honing in on the other male in front of Ettrian. "What do they want?"
"I am to tell you that you are ordered to return home, before you disgrace the family name any further. "
"I see. " pausing only briefly. "I am afraid you will have to return with unwelcome news then. I decline. I will be staying here, in Arandor. "
Disbelief... annoyance... "You can not decline... it wasn't a question. She ordered..."
"I understand that you are afraid of disappointing your mentor and how that may impact your access to the tomes you seek. If it helps, tell her that I have sworn oaths and signed a contract. To leave now without fulfilling my obligations would, no doubt, bring dishonor."
Ettrian turns his head from one to the other, repeatedly. He didn't feel it's his place to intervene, he doesn't know what's happening. But a sense of urgency washes over him. Maybe she wouldn't approve of his intervention, but... He had to. Taking a step forward, he places a hand on the elf's shoulder, looking down as he loomed over him. The words that followed, stated flatly… "You heard her. You delivered your message, chum. That's what you wanted, aye? 'Tis done.”
The hand earns Ettrian an unfriendly glance, shrugging off the hand and brushing off his shoulder as if something of disgust had sullied his attire "I don't know why they even bothered with you.. all you do is disappoint them."
Oralil watched the brief exchange, surprised and touched by the Hill Elf's actions. However, upon seeing the other's reaction to Ettrian's touch, her eyes narrowed upon him in a rare angry glare, nearly spitting out the words when she spoke. "Perhaps if we are both very fortunate, we will never again cross paths. Good day, Lyklor."
Scowling at Oralil one last time, Lyklor half nods to Ettrian before leaving sharply.
Once he had gone, Oralil's anger dissipated and the very realization that this all happened in a very public space slowly dawned upon her. She glanced around briefly before looking up to the giant blue haired man, seemingly at a loss.
Ettrian turns his head, watching the elf go. Without looking back, he says to Oralil.. or was it Alaloth? He wasn't sure anymore, but he says: "You don't have to explain anything, unless you want to. Your story is yours to share when you feel comfortable. We all have one. If you prefer, I saw nothing and heard nothing." Then, raising his booming voice to the crowd, speaking out loud to the whole merchant hall. "What are you all looking at, ey?! Don't you have a job to do?! What?! Make a statue out of it, chums, so you can admire it longer!" He then proceeds to flex, awkwardly, drawing as much attention to himself as possible, and away from her. Eventually, the artisans resume their tasks, mumbling amongst themselves. Ettrian observes them for a moment, then looks in the direction the elf went. Finally, he turns to her, a concern in his blue eyes. "Are you okay? Need me to go and check if he left? Need time to be alone? What do you need?"