RP:Amend-making Awry

Summary: Sabrina and Xzavior went to the remains of the elven camp, cursed by tree-rot, and which was now occupied by elven refugees led by a high council that includes Gilwen and Syelnar, in order to find out what was happening in Sage. Enter Laezila, who, in sorrow and regret over her past crimes, sought the elves in an attempt to make reparations for her offenses. Her plan wasn't a brilliant one, but the high council might see a possibility for answers.

Recaptured Fort

This small patch of land has witnessed the destruction and resurrection of major forces. Notably, the elves lived here first in a thriving, peaceful community before being decimated by the duergars. During their occupation of this land, the deep dwarves built a dark tower and spiked walls. What happened to the duergars is not known, but some time after the drow military occupied this fort and from here launched a war against the elves, driving them out of the forest and replacing it with darkness. The drow won the first war, but lost the fort in the second. The watchtower was destroyed by the elves, who must now build a future on these lands, whose very foundation is violence and war.

The months following the conclusion of the war, the elves that migrated back to their ancestral home wasted no time in reclaiming and rebuilding. The first things to be built or refurbished were the tree houses that had been abandoned for so many years, and thereafter came the fort. However, repairs had been halted the moment a necrotic plague began to kill off the trees, and an investigation had been launched. Originally, it had been assumed that the cause had been beetles caring oak wilt, and when no beetles were found, termites were blamed, and when no one could turn up single clue that pointed to termites, or any insect for that matter, the older, more superstitious elves began to fear their gods had punished them for some unknown wrong-doing. Now, the tree houses remain abandon in fear of the boughs breaking and the subsequent death or disfigurement from such a fall, and canvas tents curve around the fort in circle that stretched outward for a few hundred meters. Many of the elves sat outside their tents these days, drinking heavily and complaining about being refugees once more. However, many more elves had returned to the reconstruction of the fort, or cutting down the trees that been burned or rotted through to avoid any casualties once the massive things fell. Inside the fort, the council milled around, unsure what to do at this point, but sick of having meetings that led to no clear solution- and that’s where Gilwen would be found, her head bent over a map of Sage, studying the lines that marked the spread of the plague.

Xzavior had heard of what was going on within the sage forest and had even seen some of the effects close by himself. He was just coming back from his cabin so before heading back to Ara to see Sabrina again he thought to see if he couldn't find anyone who knew any of the going ons of all this. When he finally found the camp he carefully made his way through it, not too sure how the elves were going to react to a naga waltzing through their camp nonchalantly. He did however make it obvious that he wasn't carrying any weapons or anything of the sort. So while he milled around the camp he looked around for the largest tent expecting that to be where the more important meetings would be held.

Laezila was, as it were, not in the most emotionally stable of places. Granted, the young vampire was known to be a bit theatric and overdramatic, but the manner at which she expressed herself did not erase the existence of the very real emotions that powered it. This evening, she was not happy. She was no angry, either, but full of a certain self-loathing and crippled esteem that ached, spurred on by the denial of a few eligible bachelors and attributing such to her aesthetics, rather than their own inner turmoils. It was on the coattails of one of those events that Laezila took the trek toward a familiar and morbid sight; often, in the state of duress and emotional injury, the woman returned to the scene of her crime. It was there that she usually mourned her past sins and offenses, and prayed for some salvation that never came. However, her route was interrupted and came to an abrupt end short of her destination when she finally, through the thicket of woods and took notice of more recent accumulation of elven refugees. The girl was clad in a bright red, ankle-length sheath dress that contrasted her paling ebony skin but complimented both glittering white hair and vivid bluebell-hued eyes. Sporting a bandage up along her spine that had the pronounced effect of a slow gait, she was not particularly subtle against the backdrop of greenery and earthen tones of Sage. She had no weapons. In fact, the girl looked as if she couldn't be many years into adulthood, which belied her past experiences as the matron of a powerful and feared House though her vampirism ensured that forever this would be her frame and age. Unarmed and unarmored, the distraught woman carefully pushed into the clearing with hands lifted near her shoulders, palms exposed to show their empty states. Each step was difficult, and her vision was blurred somewhat by tear-glossed eyes, as she called out in her approach, "I am unarmed!"

Sabrina came in from the east, sitting astride a massive beasty not fit for these woods. The obsidian hound trots noisily, announcing his position though he was known well enough by his rider who was quick to approach the main tent to make an inquiry to all the recent movement. She was wearing her bow, never thinking she would have to remove it, especially considering her bloodline. She is distracted though, not by the Naga coming from the west but a semi-familiar face she saw only once before in Xalious, maybe… if ever one was in the company of her kind, well, they all started to look the same anyways. Her direction changes course, after eyeing the girl up and down minted hues squint lightly. The smooth tones of perfect tongue inform the lot “She’s with me.” By which she gives a small wave of hand to gesture the girl should follow, quietly. She resumes her course, whether the woman was in tow or not.

The naga inside the elven camp drew considerable commotion, and many people went out of their way to watch the creature with curiosity and weariness mixed in a blatant display across their visage; a few of the more younger elves kept their hands fixed on the hilts of their weapons in both a show of warning, and simple precaution. However, the moment Laezila had come within sight of the camp, a long, ominous horn sounded from atop the fort and the elves that had gathered to watch Xzavior now scattered; children were hauled up and cuddled to their mother’s bosoms, husbands, brothers and sons unsheathed weapons and strung bows with an ease birthed from decades of practice. Those who could not possibly defend themselves ran for the sanctuary offered by the fort and its reinforced walls, and those who could offer aid in warding off a potential attack rushed out. Gilwen was among the few who escaped the compound and into the chaos that surged around the camp, followed by Syelnar, another elf who sat on the high council. It took nearly a quarter of an hour for the elven leaders to make it through the crowd and then to where the warriors of the enclave had stopped all outsiders from approaching, or leaving, and immediately, both Gilwen and Syelnar’s attentions were fixed to Laezila, the former of the pair practically snarling with anger. “What are –you- doing here?” She spat, her left hand curled around the leather hilt of the dagger that sat on her hip. “If she moves, I want an arrow through her skull, do you understand that?” She said, an aside to one of the younger elves who were among many who had trained their bows on the vampiric drow. The fact that Sabrina had claimed Laezila meant nothing to either elders; despite the knowledge that the former matron had betrayed her people and thusly played a key part in the outcome of the war, there was a deeply seeded mistrust and hatred for all drow, regardless of their deeds.

Xzavior was more than used to having people reach for weapons and eye him cautiously, something you just have to deal with after a while. But when he heard the horn he looked around curiously to see what was going on only to find he was suddenly left alone. Following the crowd he saw the drow he had only met once before and leading in front of her the ever so familiar Sabrina. Seeing her Xzavior quickly cut through the crowd and moved up besides her, there wasn't anything he could really say to help out Laezila, but that didn't really mean that he would just let her be alone in front of all these hostile elves. With a small smile he leaned down to Sabrina to whisper to her.

Xzavior whispered something to Sabrina.

Sabrina had dismounted gracefully, the hound doing nothing to defend the ward, moreso he moves off to a table of abandoned food. Free abandoned food. Unlike the Naga the beasty had no qualms about leaving her alone, if she wanted, the bitch could take off those blasted gloves and stop the insistent protection of those around her. The elfess wraps thin digits around the bow donning her form, not a threat, more of a precaution; she was still in the habit of judging people by their deeds and not their poor breeding. Keen eyes keep focus on any movement, this was hardly a reason to start another war. She knew her kind were quick to hate, but so soon in the aftermath she had hoped some resolution to preserve what lives were left would survive. “Are you so terrified by one defenseless drow that you dishonorably require half a brigade to keep it at bay?” She got it, she really did. Blind hate was one of those traits she despised in her own people. It made them all look so arrogant and ignorant in the same breath. Still, It? Not her? Clearly some residual racism still resides. She leans up to lend Xzavior an ear, a half smile crossing her lips. “Isn’t it always?” She pulls from her shoulder a large bag, letting it fall at Gilwen’s feet. “You make quite a stir; it echoes in the trees.” She tips her head to the bag. “Supplies, via the Healer’s Guild.”

Laezila's vision was filled, briefly, with the passing visage of Sabrina, and the wounded drow vampire made to move after her in direction, but she didn't get even a step; she was facing a throng of elves with their bows drawn, arrowheads aimed at her. Both of her paled ebony hands kept those palms exposed in consistent show of being unarmed, and her bluebell-hued eyes, vivid and intense, flit from one fair-skinned cousin to another. The ex-matron swallowed, which briefly caused her diminutive bust to swell and deflate in the subtle evidence of her anxiety. It was one thing to expect this, but another, completely different thing to experience it, and the young woman was blatantly having second-thoughts considering her decision. "I..." She started, even stammered, "I came to make... amme-mends-s..." Her spine ached, the wound beneath the bandage a deep laceration from the bite of an axe, but only the look of brief pain and discomfort crossed her scarred face in betrayal of that -otherwise, she simply looked... frightened. Well, not entirely; it was as if she were trying, and failing, to put on a calm and collected front. Her face had three diagonal lines of discolored scars upon her flesh, like a claw swipe, that reached from the corner of her forehead to the opposite jawline. "I'm sorry..." Yet, there was Xzavior to go beside Sabrina, near her location -they might've appeared on the vampire's side, but, all those arrows were trained on the ex-matron.

Syelnar ducked his head close to Gilwen’s ear, eyes still fixed to the rag-tag party before them, while whispering a string of words too soft for anyone but the red-headed elder to hear. However, Sabrina’s words drew a loud scoff from the otherwise silent elder, and he turned her with cool grey eyes. “Laezila is anything but defenseless. She’s kidnapped elves, burned down half of our forest, and is a skilled pyromancer.” He looked pained to admit that last point, but he soldiered on. “Over these past years, we have lost our loved ones to the drow, by death or by slavery, and now that we’ve managed to reclaim our ancestral home lands-..” Before Syelnar could finish his words however, Gilwen interrupted, that snarl still curling her upper lip. “Cut off a wolf’s head and it can still bite. I am not willing to take any chances that might result in endangering the lives of my people.” Despite speaking to Sabrina, Gilwen’s gaze remained trained to Laezila, though, after a few moments, a quick wave of her hand saw the elves flanking the group lower their weapons- minus two who, just in case, kept their bows trained on the ex-matron. The bag of supplies that had been offered was gathered up by Syelnar, who then passed it along to another elf, who then ran it back to the fort. “We appreciate your kindness,” Gilwen offered in exchange, her attention deviating from the ex-matron long enough to dip her head in thanks to Sabrina. It was a brief dalliance however, and soon the elven elder’s attention was back on the young drow once more. “You-… you come with apologies?” Gilwen asked, clearly taken aback by the admission of intentions. Hearing this, Syelnar was whispering feverishly into Gilwen’s ear once more. A minute later, and a nod offered to the other council member, she exhaled a quick, breathy sigh. “Why? And further more, how are you even alive? We heard Gevurah killed you.” The giant beast was allowed to roam, with in reason, but Syelnar nodded to it in acknowledgement, "Please ensure your... companion, remains within sight."

Xzavior chuckled with Sabrina and looked back to Laezila. He couldn't help but feel bad for her. She had so little places to turn to. He got that there was some very dark history between them but the drow seemed as harmless as ever. Until he heard all she has done. "Well that makes a bit of sense..." He muttered to himself. Well apparently there was a bit more to her then he thought. Whatever the case it seemed that the tension had dwindled down if only just slightly. He had to laugh at Rohk though. There could probably be an army of dragons ready to fight and he could head straight to the closest place with food. But, he wasn't just here to spectate, "Before I forget. I'd like to know what's going on with the Sage"

Laezila winced and flinched with every accusation so coolly and dismissively levied at her from the other elder, though the lithe young drow, clad in her red ankle-length sheath dress and with her hands raised in the universal sign of submission, did not interrupt once; her stare remained vivid and calculating, cunning even, despite the way her face contorted with every minute expression and wore upon it the remains of tears and suffering. It was only with the pause in their words -after the bows were cautiously lowered, though her hands remained visible- that the girl spoke. Her voice was a breathless, ragged thing, worn from her trip and and consistent misfortune that had befallen her since her forcible exile from the jewel city of the Underdark. "Because I didn't know-I didn't..." A helpless look was cast around her, a sharp inhale to attempt (vainly) to collect her composure, "I thought I was doing the right t-thing; thought I was doing the best thing for my p-people. My House. I had to become Gevurah's ally in order to instill change, her House still... still ruled..." She tapered off there, what was intentionally supposed to merely be midway through her explanation, as she realized these elves knew as little of the politics of Trist'Oth as she had of their culture -an ignorance that made her all the more willing to raze part of Sage. Her hands slowly lowered, though her gaze moved downward, head inclined slightly in more persistent signs of cooperation and submission, "I've been repaid my cruelty times over. Unlike you, I can never return home now, I can't simply rebuild my home. I have no allies in my kind. Those I counted on left me... alone. I fought on your side, I started riots in Trist'Oth that burned for days. I was burned alive, and yes- I did die." Her gaze lifted slightly, to dare a glance to their faces, "Returned as a bloodsucker. I cannot ever stay in one place too long, not since Frostmaw kicked me out," their own civil war, "because of hunters. I have no lover to lean on, no family to hide me away, and Gevurah put upon my head thirty-five thousand gold." Her hands spread slightly, as if an offering of herself in gesture, "Your lands are cursed, and I am wanted. I am so tired of being responsible for so much pain. But I cannot -I am too cowardly to finish it off myself. So I come to make amends. T-trade me. Trade m-me to D'Artes, in exchange for the homes I took from you. For a lift of their curse."

Sabrina arches a thin dark brow to the person groveling behind her. With a sigh she turns and bows properly to both elders, they had justified quarrel with the Drowess, and as elders it was out of Sabrina’s hands to help her. She only adds “She risked pain of death for an innocent in Xalious.” Before passing through the archers to tend to Rohk as requested. What happened to Laezila after was the will of Hind. As if knowing he was being spoken of the unholy halfbreed looks up from the table of goodies, demon maw still chewing, some food falling to the ground as it escapes his greedy teeth. Then back to the task at hand, so long as the food was aplenty this guy wasn’t going anywhere. She had keen enough hearing to know Xzavior was already asking the right questions, for now she would play a back seat role and just listen. She even listened to the female’s position on the matters concerning her infractions. It wasn’t enough. No one life was worth all of that. Still, baby steps.

There came a sudden cry from a soldier in the crowd of, “I knew the gods wouldn’t forsake us.” Another voice responded in turn, “Those damn darks curse our homes!” And soon, the armed crowd held their weapons higher and began to call simultaneously for the death of Laezila, and to return her to Gevurah. This continued for a few seconds while the two elders bent their heads close to come to a decision regarding the matter at hand. Thereafter, Gilwen tucked her thumb and forefinger into the corners of her mouth, and blew out a shrill whistle that sufficiently silenced those within the immediate vicinity; the soldiers towards the back of the crowd slowly got the memo, but continued to quietly talk amongst themselves. “It seems we both have our answer,” Gilwen said, attention briefly fixed to Xzavior before returning to Laezila. “So the tree rot, it’s not a plague. It was cursed.” She paused, and shifted her gaze from the drow to the dying forest around her, to Syelnar, and then back. “We’re not interested in the bounty, and I do not trust the D’Artes.” Syelnar stepped forward at this moment, and settled a hand on Gilwen’s shoulder. “We will convene with the council before any further decision is made. We require you to remain among us, however.” The gray eyed elder refrained from stating the ex-matron would become their prisoner, but it was implied nevertheless.

Xzavior sighed as he listened to the drows story. He had heard only a small bit of it before and quite a bit about her connections to Trist'Oth. But that wasn't something he was going to give free information about lightly. Not to everyone present anyways. He would like to talk to the drow but he wanted to make sure he could actually get what he needed first. And that Laez was not being held captive by the elves... Damn. Finding he had another bit of info about his own darker dealings he guessed that this was why the priestess was so aggravated with the mention of his residence within the Sage. The more you know. Xzavior didn't make much of a move until he thought that the tension died down enough for him to follow after Sabrina. He didn't know what else to do at the moment really. He highly doubted that he could convince Gevurah to lift the curse. They hardly knew each other and he purposely screwed up the first job she gave him.

Laezila's eyes widened slightly at their words; it was all the same words she had heard before, in Trist'Oth, save with a more flowery voice than the harshness of their dark elven kindred. She had heard it in Frostmaw, when she was prisoner there. "N-no," she said with a simultaneous step back, which caused the wound along her spine to flare with pain and the lithe little woman to bite her lip to restrain the vocals she would have otherwise cried out. "I c-can't stay here. The drow, and-and-and..." Who would even care, really? Who would look for her? "The tree rot, it's not my doing, I can't undo it," her words were picking up speed, and her eyes wer starting to dart around, "This, this was a mistake, I need to go -I need to leave, I'm sorry," she was already turning; inadvertantly the wound on bandaged freshly on her back was exposed, explaining her slow movements, but it appeared she was going to try to retreat.

Laezila briefly gave Sabrina a helpless and pleading look as she turned away from the other elves.

Sabrina heard what she needed to hear, an answer to all the movement. She tries to call Rohk to leave, if the woodlands required her there were instructions in the bag on how to summon her. For now, she would find a place where she was needed. Laezila’s plead was left unanswered as the Elfess was not visually accessible through the lines of Elves gathered there. She tugs on Rohk’s newly adorned horn. A small argument ensues. He woofs down several plates and a whole fowl, stuffing his maw to the brim before following to the west. Left behind the two was payment for the foodstuffs consumed in this short interlude. The hound coughs, losing not only a chunk of half eaten pie, but a small puff of contemptable air from his backside. Whoever ventured here after their departure would surely need resuscitation.

‘Kind’ wasn’t the word that came to mind first when one thought of Gilwen, but the elder felt an uncomfortable surge of something akin to guilt in her gut as she beckoned forth whatever roots remained healthy beneath the topsoil to create a tight knit wall to cut off Laezila’s retreat. It wasn’t a large barrier, and it looked frail, but it offered enough of an obstacle that the drow would be caught by hands or arrows before she could make it up and over. “You are the first we’ve seen of Drow, and why would they expect elves to be harboring you?” Syelnar question. While he had remained the voice of calm and reason throughout the encounter, this sudden backtrack on the drow’s part spurred a touch of fire into his words, I do not expect you to be able to undo it, but I expect you to be able to tell us more about it.” A brief pause ensued before Gilwen spoke up. “I would prefer to resolve this as peacefully as possible, Laezila. I require that you surrender quietly. We will have your wounds looked at, and possibly cared for as well.” At this point, the elder was not above bribing the drow. But, should Laezila seek a further exit, Gilwen’s quickly formed barricade would began to reach out the ex-matron, to curl around any part of her body they could ensnare. And there was always the two bowman waiting with arrows knocked, just in case.

Xzavior felt rather uncomfortable as Laezila tried to make her escape, and as the barrier formed he hummed lightly to himself. When Sabrina drug Rohk away from the food and went off on her own way he thought he should be going as well. It was getting rather late. But instead of directly following after Sabrina he went over to the frantic drow and he would calmly place a hand on her shoulder and whispered to her, screw it if they thought him suspicious. After a moment he looked over at Gilwen, "I would like to talk more about -this- later," he motioned to the trees around him, "But I should introduce myself before leaving. I am Xzavior." He offered his own bow but he didn't think to stay long after.

Xzavior whispered something to Laezila.

Laezila's steps came to an abrupt cessation as that barricade formed before her, and it only served to frighten the drow a little more; her wounded back did not at all allow her to fight. She was, after all, a capable fighter if the ashes and cinder south of this place were any evidence thereof. But with the laceration up her spine, held together by Pilar's stitching, the young vampire was both remarkably slowed and weakened. She heard the pull of drawstrings, felt the arrows pointed at her back. Paled ebony hands slowly raised again, and her glance was brought to the naga as he spoke hushed to the drow, but she couldn't yet respond. Not even before he left; she was alone and in the capture of elves. Xzavior was wrong, however; she did not believe she was safe. Be it from drow or elven retribution. She was desperately frightened. But it was in the heart of that frightened emotion that she found her calculating and cold, more matron-like mannerisms surfacing; defensive mechanisms, after all, and without anyone to cling to, the vampire was on her own. "I assume I am to be shackled?" Tears ran down her face even while it hardened to an impassive, emotionless expression; the lack of concern that she bluffed could be so easily disputed by the small streams staining her cheeks. "After all, you don't want me to escape, being the first drow you've seen since the war -just as you need me able to speak." i.e. Alive. Well, sort of.

Gilwen could understand, albeit not from personal experience, Laezila’s fear in the face of an entire populace that could care less if she were alive or dead, and though the ex-matron fell back onto the strength she once held, the elder elf merely shrugged in response to her question. “If you want to be shackled, I’m sure we can figure something out. Though, I was hoping you could come willingly.” Syelnar stepped forward in that moment, along with a handful of swordsmen, to escort the drow toward the fort. Meanwhile, Gilwen turned to Xzavior with a small nod, and an apologetic expression. “I am Gilwen. I only wish we could have met under better circumstances.” Before following after Syelnar, she scooped up the payment Sabrina had left behind, and motioned for a soldier to gather up the supplies the woman had left. “Remind me to send her and that… creature a gift of thanks.”