RP:A Duplicitous Brother in Arms

Part of the Surface Tension Arc

Synopsis: Zendor is attacked by winter wolves just outside of the elven camp in Frostmaw. He is saved, in part, by Skylei who is on guard duty. Zendor reveals a map of supply routes he claims to have charted himself and asks for elven assistance in attacking the weakest seeming of the routes. Members of the Elven Council agree to this, on the terms that Zendor swears fealty to the elven people and cause. After some persuasion, he does. Later that evening, he sneaks out of camp and meets with an unknown human in Frostmaw tavern where a suspicious exchange of gold takes place...

Old Camp

Unlike the room description, the old camp has lots to do with elves! How fortunate as Zendor’s likely trekked all this way to see some elves. What had once been merely a meagre stopping point for Frost Giant’s on a hunting adventure, has been transformed into the living and working areas of the vast majority of the Sage elves who had chosen to make Frostmaw their homes. There are sentinels on both of the entrances into the camp; whilst the Sylvan’s aren’t worried about the threat of drow, the threat of winter wolves, mammoths and other wildland’s creature are far more likely. There’s already been three deaths at the hands of winter wolves this month and with men falling like dominoes in Sage, the treeborn can hardly afford to suffer any unnecessary deaths. Unlucky Skylei Lucindio fills in on sentinel duty when she’s not assisting the council and today she patrols the southbound entrance into the camp, bow in hands, snowboots on foot and wrapped in a long white coat, lined with more fur than a wolf itself. Guard duty is boring, but necessary. Skylei yawns. Then she begins walking again

Zendor arrives from the South, mottled looking hood speckled white from snow, covering most of its natural blackness. Despite still being in Frostmaw, the journey had been long just to get to this side of it. This is evident in his staggered steps. Therefore it's woeful that upon just being welcomed by the sight of the Elves new camp, that a trio of Winter wolves would happen upon him. Probably young due to their size, and that they dared to approach him outside the sanctity of their walls. Too tired and too smart to run, he unshoulders his hefty backpack, and prepares his weapons. Two? Yes one of them is a club, and the other appears to be...a frying pan. He growls at them, trying to intimidate if possible, and striking feintly at any who dare to come too close. Of course he's probably not as big as their smallest prey. Each passing second, they grow less weary, more daring. Soon they'll probably strike!

Skylei doesn’t wait for those wolves to strike. Like hell are they getting anywhere near the camp on her watch. Zendor is given little more than a passing glance as the half-blood focuses her attention on the trio of wolves. The nearest of the group is the one which Skylei targets first. Her bow is already prepped, ready and loaded with a barbed arrow, aimed into the neck of the wolf that dares to stray near to the walls of the camp. As the arrow imbeds itself in the wolf’s neck, the beast would struggle wildly, attempting to pull it from the wound. It’s an unwise endeavour as, in pulling the barb free from its flesh, a large gaping wound would grow and blood would flow freely onto Frostmaw’s snow. It’s unlikely to cause trouble anytime soon. As for the other two; she has her bow trained on the former and Zendor should probably make use of those weapons because now that Skylei’s aggravated them, they’re probably going to try and strike him down any second.

Zendor gives Zendor even less of a passing glance, fearful that a lingering look would be his last. He's rejuvenated with hope after seeing her though, knowing it would give him a fighting chance. One closer to him seeks to pounce, quicker than Zendor was ready for. It plants it's feet on his chest as he claps it in the teeth with the frying pan. But the beast is ruthless, and tears the skillet from grasp. So Zendor shoves his armored forearm between its molars, and grabs a fistful of belly fur to turn the tables. Now kneeling over it, he strikes the wolf in the head with a gloved fist before heaving it back into the woods. The last one between them is witness to the misfortune of its kin, and seems weary to face them alone. It would turn tail, and Zendor would give no chase, harboring no vengeance for wild animals. Regardless of Skylei's intention, he turns to her and says, "You saved my life. Allow me to repay the debt." Politely, out-of-breathly, he waits for Skylei to lead him into her camp, or have words beforehand.

Skylei wipes her brow as the wolves are dealt with. One less problem in her day is a blessing. “My watch is near enough over. I’ll get the healers to give you a look over in case you’re hurt, if you want.” Skylei would reply gruffly enough, “We can probably even stretch to a meal if you’re particularly hungry.” But the half-blood doesn’t head straight back to camp. First she approaches the wolven body that now lies limp and bloody, removing the arrow fully from its severed neck. The body of a dead wolf isn’t light, but as they retreat into the safety of the walls, Skylei would drag it with both hands backwards until she is met with extra bodies at the gate to take the brunt of the weight from her weary arms. But that’s the life of a ranger, especially one in the brutal lands of Frostmaw; waste not, want not. And more fur means more warm clothes. And honestly, you get used to eating wolf meat after a while. She leaves the body to be dealt with and turns her attention back to Zendor, “What are you doing out here anyway? We don’t generally get your type passing through.”

Zendor bows thankfully. "I can pay my own way if the services are for sale." For an annoyingly long moment, he shnuffles around on the ground looking for his artifacts of doom. The cruddy club and a frying pan. Finally he finds them and puts them into their respective homes. He notices a bit of red marring the pure white snow, and sees it leaking from his hand. But it is on one particular hand, instead of the other. "I won't need a healer," he says conclusively. Then he grabs the other half of the wolf and carries it with her, unable to watch someone do something alone that he could help with. Besides, it would make him look bad. "I don't mean to arrive without herald. Such would've been much more polite. But I have an important matter to discuss. If you would introduce me to the one in charge it would be such a gracious boon."

Skylei shakes her head at his request “Aeth is sleeping right now. He’s been busy with negotiations and council meetings and required a rest before continuing with the day.” The truth of the matter is that Aeth is not asleep, rather he is resting up in one of the carious structures that sit in the centre of the camp. The head of the elven council is old now and the cold of a Frostmaw winter has done little to improve his general help. But this is not the kind of thing that you announce to strangers who come “Aside from that, if you wished to speak with him, or the council, you have to go through me first.” At this point Skylei would hold out her hand, as humans do, and introduce herself formerly, “I’m Skylei Lucindio, the assistant to the elven council and to Aeth especially. How can I help you, aside from perhaps, suggesting investing in a weapon that isn’t used for cooking food.” She smiles again, though that remark had been entirely serious before leading Zendor across to the vacant table where the council meetings usually took place.”

Zendor nods as if he believes her, but he never truly expected to meet with anyone of note just because he said he wanted to. "I understand. Very well, salutations Skylei Lucindio. My name is Zendor." He shakes her hand somewhat gruffly, as humans do. "Bowstrings break, swords lose edge. But frying pans..." He nods confidently, "Are as durable as the mountain." Clearly Zendor was assuming that Skylei doesn't use frying pans very often. "I have something very important to discuss, as you will see. I ask only that we wait until we can be free from the whims of the wind." Once to the vacant table, Zendor unshoulders his heavy burden and pulls from it a wooden cylinder. "Behold of this." Before her he places a copy of the map Gevurah had drawn out for him, written again in his own hand. "I take it you know what it means, yes?"

Skylei is silent for a good three minutes whilst she pores over the map. Each route is committed to memory as best she can; the blessings of an eidetic memory leave her with little fear that, even if Zendor takes the map away, she will have access to the information, “How did you get this?” Skylei eyes the frying pan and jumps to a conclusion of her own, “I got it. You’re an escaped slave, right? Which house? Who did you steal this from?” She’s hoping for one of the higher up houses. Any of the first five from D’Artes to Stavret will do; a lesser house’s knowledge is of little use to the elven council. Even an elf understands the basics of drow hierarchy.

Zendor snatches the map away, clearly irritated. "I am no slave! However I do have my own reasons for despising the drow...as I'm sure many do. But since the elves are the only ones to take up arms against them hear I am." He rolled it up and put it back in the cylinder. "Consider the acquisition of this, a result of a hobby...One I would see evolved into a trade." He gauges her reactions, were they dubious? Did she doubt his ability to stalk the drow without being captured or killed? "Sage is as much my home now as it used to be yours, and I would not see their hate corrupt it any further. Yet I am but a man, and they are a legion."

“Yeah, welcome to -my- life…” Skylei mutters at his last remark. “Still you didn’t answer my question. From which house was this obtained? Do you even know? I would bet good money that there are fake copies of this lurking around just waiting to find their way into elven hands.” Skylei shrugs her shoulders, “If you cannot prove its validity then what I am to do? Take a potential forgery to the council? Do you think we have the men to lose following the recent fights in Sage? Our numbers were dwindling anyway and now….” She would shake her head, “That is besides the matter. If this is as it looks, it may be of great value. But can you swear on its validity?”

Zendor shakes his head, "I can easily swear to it's validity. I didn't pilfer these off of some foolish dark elf's corpse. I detailed the markings myself after stalking them day after day. Month after month. Such efforts do not go without risk..." He lifts his shirt to reveal a recent scar, in fact it had come from a drow blade, yet not while in the woods. "I pray to make them worthy of reward. Yet there is no way to prove my honesty without a test, is there?" He reveals the map again, and points to a spot that shows a relatively small patrol on a vulnerable route. "This one is small, and is disadvantaged with the sparsity of foliage. Lead a small patrol there--and I will accompany you, you will see the truth in my words."

Skylei furrows her brow. Then she gets up from the table. “Wait here.” She is gone for all of five minutes and when she returns, should he have been willing to wait, she is accompanied by three of the elven elders; Nienna, Maegus and Elrohir. She repeats the conversation she has just had with the man and concludes; “Zendor states that he is willing to accompany a party of our rangers along the route to prove the validity of its content. I am inclined to trust him. His willingness to be present is a good sign. He has also clearly been punished by a drow blade of late, so I would doubt they consider him an ally. If you are willing, I will organise my own patrol to travel with him and perhaps a few of our other allies. There is a spell blade I met of late with an axe that could sever drow heads with ease. He was quite something in battle and would make excellent back up for our own.” She doesn’t add this, but fleshing out the party with non-elven blood also makes the casualty count much less high for themselves, should something go wrong. The council say nothing for several minutes. Elrohir would break the silence first. “Have him pledge his fealty to the council, the elves and the cause, Miss Lucindio. Then you might arrange this party. Ensure that Aeth is informed.” Skylei nods, the elders depart. Finally she would question Zendor, “A fair trade? Our help for your fealty?”

Zendor waits of course, and not very long. Though in any case he took to sitting, lest he become bored and stiff. When she arrives again, moments later, she has accompanying her 3 elders. Who look very young to this day, no doubt, such is the magic. Poor Zendor must look more withered, probably. "Greetings, I am Zendor," Is all he says to them while Ms. Lucindio explains and suggests. He wants to seem polite. He wonders of this spell blade she refers to, however. Unexpected variables tend to muddle things. Yet he remains looking confident. "I am hesitant to pledge fealty to anyone, least of all a people I know so little about," he says quite honestly, "Perhaps if you will tolerate me in your camp, I can come to be one of you by word of your own people. And then I would swear fealty. Is that acceptable?"

Skylei shakes her head, “I cannot change the terms lain out by the elders. And my hands are tied over the execution of this plan until you swear your loyalty to the elven cause. And, I would also expect hesitation on the part of the elves to welcome you into their camp for more than a few days without affirmation of your loyalty; though I would say you can have that time to make up your mind. They’re not so good with outsiders.”Skylei would tuck her hair behind her ear as an obvious sign of her own dual heritage. “You should see the number of times they’ve had me swear my fealty. Apparently, for those of tainted blood, once is not enough. But it is simple enough. Unless you plan to break elven law, then there is little to be lost in pledging loyalty. It does not bind you to anyone. You are free to come and go as you please. Consider it insurance on the elven part. Many a war has been lost by trusting the wrong person after all, aye?” She would gesture to the camp itself, “That said, if you want to remove the drow from Sage then pledging alongside our cause is your best option. I tried the vigilante life.” She pulls a face, “Didn’t much enjoy it. The drow move in packs after all.”

Zendor averts his gaze, "I see. Our cultures are much different, in that way I think. Ah! So you've noticed." He considers several things, but comes to the conclusion that this is his best option. "I've changed my mind. I am becoming more engaged in this fight than I have been previously, and I don't know how long it will be before I fall. And you're right, as you know, vigilantism offers not much in the way of success or reward. Very well," he presses two of his fingers to his lips and raises them above his head, "I hereby swear fealty to the elves and their noblest cause. Amen." Then he looks at her as if to say, 'am I done'?

It’s not the way that the elders would have it done if they were around to see it, but Skylei cares little for their customs, and having been made to swear fealty approximately eight thousand times, he has no desire to force him through the arduous and dull process. “And may Hind, the trees and the skies watch over you, Zendor, whilst you are our brother in arms, and may they bless you ever more.” She dips her head for a few moments and then would gesture towards the main body of the camp, “Come then, we must set you up with a bed and some broth. I hope you don’t mind wolf meat.”

That Evening

When night had fallen, Zendor pulls hood over his head and treks back to the main part of Frostmaw, plopping himself in the tavern. He has not much with him, his satchel is back at the camp. After being there for some time, he's approached by a weak looking human, who sits with him. What they discuss is impossible to determine without more acute ears, but with them, you would hear about business. Zendor would have a message delivered. This thing has been already prepared, probably in the privacy of his quarters at the elven camp. With it is quite a hefty bag of gold, for such a simple task of delivery. "Be back here by morning and you shall have more," says the Human to the courier. Now the courier is replaced with beer.

A Message for Red LOSERson

Dear Red,

You're worth less than sick dog's wet fart. That being said...

Never talk to me or my beloved Shaniqua again. Or if you do, you had better have remembered to bring my favorite flowers. Really, I should've just fed you to my dog when you crawled up on my stoop asking for wata. Then again I was much nicer then... Here is the money that I owe you, yeah so you can pay the bills. Pray don't waste it on booze like usual you cruddy booze bag. And remember that you're only human, but I'll still kill you if you don't be nice to me. There. Right. Or...

Love ya!

ooc: Okay that's Zendor's coded message for Red. Of course Red knows to read the first letter of every sentence to understand the code.