RP:Seeds of Destruction

Location: The Silent Woods

Endless lines of trees hem in the road on either side. Overhead they meet in a leafy canopy that blocks out most of the sunlight, letting only the occasional sunbeam through into the dim half-light of the road below. Other than the rutted dirt road, you've seen no animals or even a birdcall or rustling in the undergrowth of some scampering wood creature has broken the monotony. No wonder they call this the Silent Woods. Only the creaking of the trees in the wind, the fluttering of the leaves, and the crackling of dried leaves and snapping twigs under your feet break the profound silence. Pushing aside the thorny curtain exposes a wide cleft in the rocks. Beyond you see a sapling, its tiny stem thrusting up towards the light, which shines into the canyon. The sapling stands about two feet high, its budding green leaves sprouting from small branches. It nestles at the foot of an old leafless tree, which twists above you, thirty feet high. Long vines hang limp from its high canopy. A great split at its summit looks sinister and emits a small cloud of steam.

Rhocielle resembled a ghostly wraith in the barren clearing before the massive leafless tree, even in the late afternoon sunbeams creeping through the overhead canopy. Armored as always when traveling, accompanying his figure was dissonant harmony of wind whipping around him. In his paws was a long quarterstaff, whirled and swiped against a myrad of invisible opponents, both in front and behind. Close observation that while the attacks would be seemingly devastating from the force delivered, he was still subtly clumsy and his movements lacked fluid grace from time to time. He was still learning. With every flurry of thrusts and parries, the wolfen warder improvised and adapted to enemy feights and countered. Bobbing and weaving with quick strafes and crouches, he used both staff and his own limbs to bring his raw strength to bear. An erratic, and all the same well controlled solitary dance.

Helich :: Porc. The orc had returned. And where one found Porc, it was easy to assume that his master was soon behind. Adorned in stilled illusionary robes that caught not wind, nor ruffled against the path tread below - it was almost like the saurian creature was feeling his old self again. A dark robe that perfectly matched his ebon flesh, the male idly tread up the path in search of something. En route toward a prize of some kind, a treasure. The noise caught him first. It caught Porc's interest. Followed by Helich's. Soon a scent followed as the winds stirred - Porc, not the most stealthy of beings, was sent in a wide arc around Rhocielle just in case things turned ugly. The orc took up a perched spot downwind, thirty feet away, and watched as the saurian - in the guise of that same young human, though black this time - approached the Lycan casually. Nonchalantly his arms crossed over robes and he leaned against a thin, dying tree. Perhaps disease, perhaps too much competition for water. It was as good a spot as any. "Bravo." He clapped, "Bravo." Arms recrossed, "You chose dangerous grounds to train lycan."

Rhocielle /: Porc was anything but stealthy, and hulking figure couple with equally brutish steps in the sea of dead leaves and twigs alerted the Lycan well before he saw the Orc in his constantly shifted cone of vision. Orc? He had not seen orcs on the mainland in some time, and even then, they had been armored females. He frowned faintly. Softer sounds crunched closer as the Round Guard twirled in perhaps a boasting and dramatic finish of his exercise. Jabbing the blunt end of his staff into the dry soil beside him once the clapping diminished and faded with deathly echoes, his grey eyes now locked upon the black robed human. So used to repeatedly used disguises of the black dragon, now that logic dictated that it was him, he immediately stated the obvious, "Your orc's weight makes the dry leaves sound like stone cracking..." Secluded location, that it may be, the bone dry landscape gave amble warning of any approaching individuals, even to those not gifted with acute hearing. "Why are you here, Helich?" the wolf stated, always to business with those he did not seek pleasantries with.

Helich played it as a purposeful meeting. Of course he would. Always make your enemies assume you knew more than you did, he was told growing up. And never let them know how much knowledge you truly posessed. "Do I need a reason?" He allowed the snide comment about poor Porc to pass. The saurian wouldn't admit it of course, but the orc was actually becoming welcome company. Low maintence. Which he always prefered. "But if you must know, I am checking up on you." Rather blunt, his voice etched with subtle hints of danger. "To make sure -- of course -- that you don't mind me taking the High Lady Arien as my wife." A razor cutting through his heart. Weeks ago it had dawned on him how strong the bond between the two were, and why. Cast the seeds of dissent, allow them to bloom - but for now --- he simply wished to cause the wolfen male harm. "You see, I am ready to cast aside my evil ways and walk in the path of the light, hand in hand with the high lady!" Theatric, melodramtic - he gestured harshly forward with a hand, spreading it in an arc as if making a major proclamation. "We shall be, as one. It has been preordained." Meanwhile, Porc was procuring a small horse bow from his back, out of view of course - and nocking it with an arrow.

Rhocielle slowly moved with the saurian, or rather, padding in an wide arc around the tree Helich leaned against. The exclamation of desiring Arien immediately provoked the warder into debating the exact usefulness of the black dragon, regarding the Rynvale invasion. Eyes remained casual, but any could denote the fatality of the stare cast. Inadvertently, he was also removing himself from the Orc's line of sight. The staff was held horizontrally in his paw, and only until he ceased moving, did he speak anew. "I trust Arien, not yourself. So if you say this, then surely you will not mind accompanying me to Fold compound to speak of this to her in person..." It was ludicrious notion, of course. Not even the slightest sliver of truth, and so Helich would realize the folly of his statement even in the wolf's mock ritual of intimidation. The High Elf was almost always beside her Round Guard, and spoke at length even of things that would necessarily harm his heart; Trekia. "Regardless of your intentions to marry her..." he uttered, with heavy restrain to not spat it out in disgust, "Then you must come with me to the Compound to initiate you..." Even that comment was poison to his lips, but he needed to know how far Helich would go with his sick machinations.

Helich :: Porc poked his head around the corner and saw nothing. The Lycan had moved. A groan, a pout, the arrow idly left nocked in the bow - but he returned to his spot behind the tree. Out of sight. Helich on the other hand was quiet. Very quiet. It was not that he could read the Lycan's mind, but only a fool would trust one after the look that was given to the saurian. He shuffled about, leaning to the left - and to the right. Inside he was calm, outwardly he wished to extrude a squirmish attitude. "Right now?" He almost sounded youthful, feminine, "But I've hardly had time to -- to prepare." All he needed was the man to get in Porc's line of sight, that was it, and he could get out of this without resorting to his -- abilities.

Rhocielle raised a brow as seemingly some moments passed without the dragon given yay or nay. This only furthered his suspicions that this was nothing more than a twisted game. The armored wolf kept still in his position, even with the incessant worming of the black dragon against the tree. Heh, even mention of the path of light made the shadowy serpent restless. It did cause a brief lapse to his stolid features at the very strange tone that bubbled out of the apparent human male. He snorted briefly and barked almost jovially in a sacrastic tease, "But you had just stated that you were ready to cast your evil ways. That is more than enough preparation!" Bold wolf, he even went so far as to exclaim the mock joy. His voice then went low, sinisterly low. "I could anoint you right now... There is a spring of sacred water just north west of here, in a grove," he said with a free paw pointing back, "Soon, you shall be a dragon of light..." Or a dragon in flames, he mused. The warder was no paladin, but now there was a sincere wish that Lauria would grant Arien's protector the same blessings.

Helich walked to the middle of the small clearing, trying to lure Rhocielle out. At least close to his prior position. Every so often Porc would pop his head out quite brashly and hunker down, seeing if the lycans position had changed at all. Truth would be found in the statement that Helich was begining to feel a trite cornered, every so often his eyes would dart around sif he could find a physical escape to the trap Rhocielle had laid mentally. "Ahh but I wish for my beloved to be there, for her to praise me and -- and so, I will wait until I see her." His voice had long since returned to its normality, that of a mundane and slow drawl. As soon as Rynvale was liberated. It was all going to change. Her clan. Seeds of dissent sown from within. He narrowed his gaze in a slight determination upon Rhocielle's own, "But, I am more than willing to go to your compound - to join the ranks of those who walk within the light."

Rhocielle slowly turned upon his heels as the dragon moved away. The sudden loss of enthusiasm on the part of Helich prompted his own. The stave in his paw creaked only just, suffering from the intense grip from the owner's restraint to not crack the pole upon a saurian skull. It was certainly something the High Elf would be proud of, the level of restraint the wolf seemed to possess at hearing such comments spoken aloud. Speaking once more in a low husky voice, he stated with anewed sense of stone. "You know the way," the warder remarked and punctuated with a dismissive snort from his nostrils, as well as a wave of his staff in the direction of the north eastern border. "Mind the Minotaur... He may not appreciate you skulking around again without permission..." The second comment was uttered derisively, referring to Helich's failed attempt at sneaking into the Council Chambers. Pouring salt on the wound he attempted to inflict, he added, "...neither will Trekia." May at least find some positive use for the Silver, he thought.

Helich :: It was then that the risk were calculated, weighed, considered. Not for the first time, but the plan had changed. "I shall buy her flowers for her hair." He chalked at Rhocielle, trying to balance out the hold the man had on the situation. He began his trek toward Kelay, this was true - but Porc was now open for his shot. The bastard of an Orc did indeed fire at Rhocielle. But right as Helich was crossing in between the man. The arrow nicked his ear - an armor piercing head shredding quite a bit of it off - and continued toward its target. The saurian paused in sincere surprise. Though plans had changed, and if the arrow found its target well - the dragon would just have to save the lycans life, thats all there was to it. Seeds of dissent. He turned with shock - feigned - to see if the arrow had struck Rhocielle, with a mouth gaping open wide and eyes boldy expressionless. A hand had long since raised to cover a bleeding ear that was already begining to mend. In another few hours it would be as if the injury had never been incured. Porc fled as soon as the arrow released from the strings, loudly, heading southward toward the forests of Sage.

Rhocielle seemingly glowered, smoldering even, beneath the mass of black armor, cloth and fur. Then, it happened. A glimmer of steel lightning creasing in the air towards him. It never dawned on him that he had been the intended target. All he saw was the black dragon standing before him as the bolt raced at them. Lunging in a swift duck intended to safely tackle Helich to the ground, his ear flicked as air whipped past harmlessly, arrow and all. He was too late though, he briefly thought solemnly of his reaction speed to the arrow. Helich was likely skewered cleanly through the head. Dead. Useless for Rynvale's plan. This passing mixture of glee and disappoint was quickly brushed away as he stood up quickly to look at the frozen figure of the black dragon. It was not uncommon for corpses to remain erect, shock coupled with death often left the dead standing. Helich was not dead, much to his sincere surprise, but apparently in shock of it. Wasting no time, his paw clutched at the robes to slam the dragon against a tree while he peered quickly to the side, lest the would-be assassin get another shot off. "I think you had best leave now... Your Orc may or may not be dead," he commented firmly, as if giving orders. It did not slip past him that the trajectory of the shot had come from where he had last seen the clumsy if endearing brute, but he did not believe the Orc would that stupid as to fire as the master. Quickly releasing the dragon and backpedaling some steps away, he nodded to him, "Seems you have some proactive enemies..."

Helich :: How simple it was to fool the younger races. He increased his breathing, his heart rate soon followed - after he had been slammed against a tree. "Wha- you - why -..." Inside he was fuming, plotting. Considering forcing the Lycan to his will by the mix of empathy and illusionary tricks, and nothing more than tricks really. The hand that clutched his ear remained while the other sought out to make physical contact with Rhocielle - mock suprise still prevalent upon his features. A creature as old as him was never truly surprised. It was fate after all, that the lycan had saved him. He fell to a knee and ceased trying to touch the man. A shakey voice, sincere - even a few drops of tears. "I o-owe you my life." A talent, the tears. They were real, not illusionary. "I s-wear on my life and the salvation of my r-rebirthing that I will serve you loyally a-and not falter in any task you --- you g-give me." Not a single word was true, but plans were rapidly begining to change at a pace he didn't want to strain himself to keep up with. He looked as though he were cowering before the man - exactly as he wished to look - and scared out of his arrogant mind.

Rhocielle so wished to end it all as he found a dragon kneely perfectly before him. A single well placed strike on the cranium would complete the task, followed by a series of satisfying stomps of his foot into the resulting brain matter. Instead, he merely snorted out his frustration. A matter of priorities, and base desires to perform a task one's self. The clan needed the dragon still, and he did not have to wish to explain how he allowed an assassin to kill the illusionist in front of his eyes. Not a single word of gratitude was to be believe. It was not that he did not believe that the dragon was capable of such a gesture, but again the Helich revealed he was entirely too good at the role of an actor. Still, the wolf played his role, mixing it with his own tone of obvious dislike of the dragon to ensure its own plausiblity. "You will cease your intentions, whatever they may be, with Arien..." he stated simply. This too, he doubted the dragon would keep, but if Helich would initially agree to it, then at least the wolfen warder would have gained a few days worth of peace to his emotions. Even the brief time already spent this eve with the dragon, and his comments of wooing and marrying the High Elf, were aggravating. "That is my task I set forward to you."

Helich did not hesitate to agree. Nay, matter of fact he roughly raised his head and regarded the Lycan with a sense of zeal that was only comparable to worship. "Anything! Consider it done. It is done. Finished." End. No point overplaying the part, Rhocielle was but a project on the side - one to aid in the final descent of The Fold into chaos. First, Arien would fall under his control. Rhocielle would react by either attempting to save her - an act that would get him banished, the male would see to it - or he would leave the clan in protest. Many of its members would soon follow, as Helich saw fit until what had once been a prosperous radiant light was dimmed out by the vacuum of space that was his ego. Trekia was a wild card. So much changing, so quickly. He would hide her away, bring her out to parade to the locals. Stick a thorn into the hearts of each man. He stood. Silent. Fake shock faded away - it was replaced by a weary gaze, and wary as well. The hand that had been secluding his injured ear fell away. The bleeding had stopped, "We should get out of here." he looked around wildly, fearfully. "Before they come back."

Rhocielle nodded and uttered a grunt of agreement to both acceptance of his request and the desire for the dragon to leave the area. Presuming that the dragon would follow only far enough to get enough clearance to escape through the canopy above, and to directions unknown, the wolf took off in an unnaturally swift sprint, slipping past dead trees and barren brush. Even armored, he seemed as quick on his paws as if he only had his fur to cover his body.