RP:Shadow Justice
Part of the Surface Tension Arc
Synopsis: Emrith and Zendor testify before the elven council and Hildegarde, who serves here in her capacity as Frostmaw's steward. Each man has an accusation to make against the other, and a defense against slander. Zendor accuses Emrith of being a coward who left him and elves to die at the hands of the drow. Emrith accuses Zendor of being a traitor who led the elves right into the drow's trap. The council debates the matter, and Hildegarde realizes that with little evidence, the dispute is one of honor -- one which may be settled through non-lethal combat. Emrith, not satisfied this solution, disappears and follows Zendor out of the camp as his new invisible shadow.
The Elven Camp
The day is cold, but Emrith's quick pace helps him stave off the worst of the weather. Dressed in a leather vest underlain with chainmail, with his swords crossed upon his back and his ensorcelled sable cloak cascading down around them, the elf cuts through the wind, heading toward the camp and the origin of his summons. The Council will convene today, in order to discuss the matter of the ambush in northern Sage. This is a meeting of elves, and Zendor's status as a human will surely make this a quick and decisive affair. So the spell-blade believes, and his step is consequently light and untroubled as he moves through the camp. He hails some of the elves by name, nods a greeting to others, flashes quick hand-gestures at yet a few more. At last he reaches the wooden lodge, whose exterior looks freshly peeled and scored. The smell of wood resin is strong in the elf's nose as he first approaches and then enters the lodge, standing just inside and to the left of the door, awaiting Zendor's arrival, since he does not yet see the man. He offers the others arrayed in the small room a cordial nod of greeting, inclining his head sharply in deference to their status as elders of his people. To Hildegarde, he offers a smile, a rarity among elvenkind and a sure sign of regard for the silver dragon.
Zendor enters wearing some of his cleaner (looking) clothes. A sage green jacket with a modest trim over a similarly colored shirt. They're mindful of the weather and all covered with a long winter-wolf fur cloak. He greets the elves he knows, and some of those he doesn't, but thinks similarly to Emrith; that he's not an elf and this must be so important. He spots Emrith, and looks only long enough to see what sort of clothes he was wearing, before continuing through the crowd. He waves at Hildegarde and smiles nervously, waiting for further instructions, especially where to stand.There's a satchel at his side, different from the one he normally carries, and if you came close enough to him, you would notice the pungent smell of death coming from it.
Hildegarde sits amongst the elven council and chats quietly amongst them, exchanging news and small talk with each council member in turn as is the polite thing to do. Syelnar, Elrohir, Nienna and Aeth have abandoned their tea cups in order to converse with the knight and offer her their full attention until both Emrith and Zendor enter the small lodge. Hilde gently clears her throat and offers a little nod of her head to both of them, accompanied with a courteous smile: it was a serious matter, this meeting, she couldn’t be as overly kind or sweet to either of them at this time. Smacking his lips together loudly, Aeth gestures with a wrinkled hand towards the two seats opposite the council and Hildegarde: "Sit down,” he instructed with a weary voice, “and we can begin this meeting.” As soon as Emrith and Zendor had sat down, Syelnar speaks up, “We should strip them of their weapons. There ought not to be weapons in our council meeting!” his voice was quick and sharp, cracking across the room like a whip. “Oh quiet. Just because your friend, Maegus, was taken does not mean that we must cower in fear in our council room!” Nienna replied sharply. Elrohir waited for silence to fall before pushing the meeting forward, “You will both state your case, as it were, with a full explanation so we might better judge the situation at hand.”
Emrith seats himself and pulls his chair up to the scarred table at which the Council is sitting. "I am Emrith, of house Kohl, and as you no doubt know by now, there has been an altercation in northern Sage Forest. This man here--" He indicates Zendor with a wave of one slender hand, "came by intelligence of some kind, a map which laid out the route of what appeared to be an undefended caravan, against which it was decided we should plan an ambush. I took two elves of my acquaintance, Larkin and Laheya, ranger and druid respectively; Zendor choose two of his own. I and my pair stayed in the trees, while Zendor remained upon the ground. We arrived at the appointed clearing just in time to spring a trap. The Drow had lain some sort of net upon the tree-boughs, as if they had expected our arrival, and a mage attached some sort of sleep spell to it. I am only glad that Laheya and I were well back from the edge. We launched a counter-offensive, only to realize that the floor of the clearing was also ensorcelled. Zendor's elves, as well as my own, were soon overcome, and I was only able to attempt a stealthy attack on a female drow in the clearing because of this cloak here." He puts a hand to the jade clasp, fastens it for a moment so that the enchantment of invisibility activates, then dispels it by unfastening the cloak once again. "I knew I would be quickly overpowered, and so I ran. Laheya must have died, and I am quite sure that Larkin did. I have heard no word of them since, and I regret their loss bitterly. I fled when faced with a choice of freedom or capture, rightly assuming that I would do more good free than imprisoned. Of Zendor I know little, except that he, too, escaped, and is attempting to slander my name with cowardice I do not merit. It is clear to me that this was a deliberate ambush, and that Zendor's information was either a deliberate plant or a very clever ruse on the part of the drow. In either case, given Zendor's willingness to do me discredit, I believe it safe to say that he knew at least a little, and that collusion is all but certain. You have a traitor in your midst, and it is not I." He turns burning eyes toward Zendor, and when he speaks, the elf's voice is a little lower, and far more deadly. "I refuse to lie to suit my own gains in this matter. I will bear the deaths of Laheya and Larkin upon my heart forever because of that bloody skirmish; I will not repay them with spurious accusations." Turning back to the cCouncil at large, he folds his hands. "I hereby swear that my testimony is true and as complete as I am able to render it at present. If you have further questions of me after hearing Zendor's own account of the events, you have but to ask." He sits back, talked out for the time being, waiting to see what Zendor will spin and how he will spin it.
Zendor takes a seat where he's instructed, considering that the council members are older than he thought, but still spry. It suggested to him that they would be tired but impatient, without tolerance for much rhetoric. At Aeth's behest, he takes a seat in front of the council members and steward without a word. And though he didn't bring any weapons of steel today, he still cannot help but silently question Syelnar's paranoia. He sighed slowly, clearly these were a varied group. Emrith spoke first, and he waited silently, trying to remember each of Emrith's points he wanted to refute, as well as his independent side. When it was his turn, he stood. "Very much of what Emrith said is true. I submitted intelligence of a patrol network to Skylei, and we agreed that one seemed vulnerable, Emrith and I were appointed to lead a strike against it." The summary was kept brief, no doubt they already knew the background. "I think it is important to note, that it was the elves that I led that took the vanguard. It was mine and my ranger who had our legs," he gestured toward them, indicating how the spell escalated from his sole to his thigh, "we had our legs, turned into marble, leaving us defenseless when they pounced! It was us, who had a canopy's worth of corrupted branches fall on our heads! And yes, it was my elves who fell first, while Emrith escaped. It didn't seem as if there would be any hope for me either...but I remember Laheya coming to my aid in what I thought would be my last moment. Together, we fought them, and if Emrith had not become so frightened, together we would have won. I understand now, that the public bulletin board was not the proper medium for me, but as you may be able to imagine, the loss of my friends made me a tad irrational." He sat down after finishing this, and reaches into his bag slowly. "There's something I would like to show you." He drops on the table a severed drow head, dessicated, and riddled with puncture marks on its face. "This is the one who took Laheya."
Hildegarde and the council are much alike at this moment in time, they have fallen utterly silent while Zendor and Emrith state their version of events for their consideration. Yet their silence is broken when the head is dropped upon the table, causing surprised murmurs from the elves of the council but it is not enough to break Hildegarde’s silence. Unlike the elves who seem reluctant to touch the head, the woman reaches out to bring it closer for examination. “You would dare call one of our own a coward?” Syelnar near enough spits the words at Zendor. “I have no love of war, but if it weren’t for that foolish Skylei, we wouldn’t be in this mess! She was the one bringing this human to us and having us gallivant around like spies in some kind of Cenrili novel!” he said, his voice becoming shriller with ever sentence. It is Aeth who raises his hand to call for quiet, clearing his throat gently and making his chins quiver with the motion. He was by no means terribly fat, but he had that droopy flesh that older people had; that wobbly grey skin. Smacking his lips before speaking, he pipes up: “Emrith is of our blood. His word is as strong as the trees of Sage,” he said with a quiet certainty, “but… perhaps there is truth in the accusations of the human, here. He did offer to help us, hm, with young Skylei. The girl is besmirched, that is true, but she is a Lucindo by blood. Fiery by nature but not quite a traitor. Would she throw in her lot with one such as him?” Aeth asked of the council. “He is a human. He has no side to stand with, what is to say he does not swing between either to reap gold and rewards?” Nienna asked bitterly of the council, eliciting an eager nod of agreement from the most shrill elf on the council. “The drow have taken Maegus yet we have no information coming to light about that from Zendor. What a poor informant! Or perhaps… a purposeful one who is withholding information from us to sour our cause.” Elrohir ‘tsked’ with disgust at Nienna, visibly leaning away from her as if to further display his disgust at her words. “I am no warrior, but the human has fought nobly by our side before. He has given us information that led to a patrol of drow that we could destroy. The life of information gathering is not an easy one. Who is to say someone did not plant false information in the hopes of rooting out a spy? Plans change at any given time, too. Why must we assume there is foul play? I am more intrigued by the charge of cowardice against Emrith. The human avenged one of our own, yet he only grieves for them. Striking from the shadows… though perhaps that is all we can do,” he said the latter quietly and somewhat sadly. It is now that Hildegarde finally says her part, “I have found Emrith to be a reasonable man, devout to the cause of the elves but reasonable and sound of thinking and planning. Zendor… I have found to be a kind and jovial soul, not one for treachery,” she said honestly. “I think honour has been besmirched here and honour ought to be restored. It seems the council has gained much by having Zendor assist them with the information he has provided. Your argument was made public and it has been witnessed by the people of Frostmaw, be they elves or be they giant. I think it is time to begin settling on a solution, rather than our opinions. Do you have anything further to add?”
Zendor sat patiently with his hands on the table, after seeing the reactions of the council. He expected their reaction to a degree, believing in the notion that elves were more delicate than humans, especially when they hadn't ever soiled their own hands. Sometimes, he would sigh softly, or shake his head slightly with restraint. Visibly he attempted to dodge Syelnar's words, turning his head away briefly, but returning with a stern countenance, the result of containing his angsty response. After it became Emrith's turn to talk, he waited rather impatiently, as he did hit the nail on the head with his hypothetical course of events. At the end of Emrith's discourse, he clears his throat and stands. "Yes, there is no one to corroborate my story because Emrith ran away. But I -do- have this warrior's head," he said gesturing firmly to the mutilated one on the table. "All we do know, is that Emrith (an elf!) did flee before the face of our enemy. On the battlefield, everyone on your side is your brother or sister. And I had to watch my family get brutalized because Emrith failed us. Any mindreader will tell you the same," upon that final word, Zendor sits heavily on his chair and waits to be dismissed, looking very fed up.
Hildegarde was ready to interject, only to have Aeth speak up in his quavering old man voice, “We are a beaten and broken people. You have the valour and vitality of the young. These people have suffered and our people split apart. Some rest in Schezerade, others Gualon, Rynvale… they went wherever they could just to live. This is the biggest settlement of our, ah, people,” he said the latter wearily, as if talking for too long exhausted him. Sinking into his seat, the elf smacked his lips together once again almost thoughtfully. “There are no mindreaders amongst us and we are not in a position to employ one,” he explained carefully, “and we do not have the time to waste. Time is of the essence and we must pass judgement quickly,” he said with a little glance towards Hildegarde. Was something afoot? Who knew. “Please, council members, raise your hands if you believe Emrith of House Kohl to be in the right,” he instructed, watching as Nienna and Syelnar raised their hands to signal their opinions on the matter. “And raise your hands if you believe in the innocence and continued use of Zendor the human,” he instructed, raising his own hand and watching as Elrohir raised his too. A tie. “Hm,” Aeth lowered his wrinkled hand slowly, “it would seem we are at an impasse…” he said gently. “I have a solution, council members,” the Steward said gently, offering each council member a look and polite smile in turn. “It is the tradition of Frostmaw to fight and draw blood to settle matters such as these. It is obvious Zendor is of use to you and that Emrith is also of use to you. Let them resolve their matter in a fight in our public arena. They fight, they draw blood and the matter is put to bed. A scar for both to remember. It means neither are banished, neither are slain… you keep both as tools to be used as you see fit. Assuming they both agree to a fight, that is my proposal.”
Emrith rises to his feet, quite unable to contain himself any longer. His face is livid, and his eyes have gone the stormy grey of great emotion. "Call me not a coward in this, but I am appalled. Appalled most of all that a trial by combat should determine guilt and innocence, when said trial will not change the fact that this man's duplicity dealt death to at least four elves. Supposing that I was not simply incarcerated, it had ever been my intention to ensure that this man never again threatened the life of anyone, elf or otherwise, and gods willing, I will still do this. But the sheer affrontery of your notion, Hildegarde..." He sighs, but does not sit down. The look he gives the silver dragon is almost pitying. "If I may be permitted to continue speaking boldly to you directly, I had expected better of you. We are elves, not giants. We do not simply pit two potential criminals in an arena so that one may be deemed guilty and the other innocent. If you ask me to do this, and I agree, and I am bested, I will be judged guilty when I am not. Worse yet, I may be hurt, guilty or otherwise. I fight for the elves; being an elf, I should hope this is plain enough. Are you aware that by this suggestion, you are not only dishonouring my kind but potentially aiding the cause of the drow, should I be injured enough to be an easy target after combat with Zendor?" He pauses, letting his words sink in. "I will do this, but only if it is demanded of me by the law of the land or by the Council itself. But should my hand be forced, it may be that you deal a blow to my people and my cause that is difficult to forgive. I have offered to prove the validity of my claims in the most expedient way, and am offered trial of arms as a lackluster substitute." He sits back down, steepling the fingers of one hand beneath his chin; the look on the elf's face is now unutterably weary, and his eyes have once more assumed their moss-green shade.
Zendor action : finds himself surprised by the verdict, but it's not as if guilt or innocence could be easily determined. He takes a long sigh of relief, finally, the prospect of doing something he knows how to do. Fighting. Emrith is predictably thrown into a rage, and Zendor watches Hilde for a moment to measure her reaction. After losing his patience, he stands up. "Emrith, there are only a dozen things wrong with your reaction. You are a stranger here as am I. If you are judged guilty, it will be congruent with the truth! If you are injured in our fight (and I do take it that you are agreeing to the terms), then you will be as safe among Hilde and her people as you have been all this time." He just about sits down before standing back up, "And one more thing: You do not fight for elves, you run before drow." He smiles and bows sarcastically. "As I understand it, however, this was merely a suggestion by our steward, and it's up to the council to agree to the terms, is it not?" Now he sits, and waits for the council's approval or denial.
Hildegarde listens to the peevish words without a change in her expression, indeed, she is still silent even as Zendor begins. Finally, she rises up out of her seat and looks at the two of them. “Enough,” she tells them both. “You nip at one another like hair pulling children, you are both grown men. Drop the attitude, drop the nipping. This council and I have no time nor patience for it, you have my word on that. Consider me unimpressed by the two of you,” her words are as cold as the tundra, perhaps even colder if it were possible. “You misunderstand me. I did not say this was a trial by combat, as neither myself nor this council can determine the guilt or innocence of either party for all that has been said is pure conjecture; there has been no real evidence provided at this meeting. All conjecture. You forget that the elves have lived in Frostmaw for years now. That the elves abide by the Frostmawian laws and ways, alongside the traditions of their own people. I would not suggest something if I did not think the council would reject it on the basis of being culturally insensitive. You are new to Frostmaw, Emrith of House Kohl, what offends you does not offend all the elves here. This suggestion of combat was purely to put this bad blood between you to bed, until such a time the council can find evidence to solidify who is right and who is wrong. Even so, it was only a suggestion, not an order or command. Your ‘affront’ is quick.” The Silver looks towards Aeth and receives a gentle incline of his head, “If you are unhappy with the offer, you may leave. No one is forcing you to be here.”
Emrith rises once more, facing Hildegarde and gazing levelly at her, without showing the slightest bit of fear or pique in his expression. "If it is not a trial of combat, then I apologize for the harshness of my response," he tells her. "My affront is still real, but it was misdirected. A better way to phrase how I feel would be thus: Your terms sound sensible, but mean nothing. I have no desire to engage in a bout with Zendor to vent my rage. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he is guilty, and such treason merits death. I will not make sport of a serious matter, nor roll in the mudd for juvenile bloodlust. When he is dead, his debt to me will be paid, though no amount of spilt blood will return Laheya, Larkin and the others to us. I hereby refuse the terms." He turns to Zendor. "Hildegarde is right on one count. I will stop nipping at you. But the world has teeth, human...teeth you do not suspect. One day in the not-so-distant future, some of them are going to rip you apart. It may not be my hand that does the deed. It may not even be something you see coming; the manner of your death matters not. I give you one last chance: admit your guilt, your complicitude in the debacle in the forest, and I will agree to abandon you to the mercy of my kinsmen. I will not make this offer a second time, so be a brave man and take it. While you live, there is time to mend your errant ways; when you die, you are damned."
Zendor remains quiet until the end, having all but spoken his piece. "Thank you for the opportunity Emrith. It would be very generous if I was in fact guilty. But yes, I do believe that some day in the near future, I will die. That is the life of a soldier. That gives me no displeasure." The conversation between them is over as far as he is concerned. "My steward, High Council? Are we dismissed?" He stood up and waited impatiently, ready to turn himself away from this fiasco forever. They can keep the smelly drow head though.
Hildegarde remained suitably unimpressed by the ordeal. “I think that is enough for this evening. You may leave,” she told them both, resuming her seat beside the council members with a gentle sigh.
Emrith turns to the door and, with one final nod to all those present, pushes his way through it. Moving fast, he steps around the edge of the lodge and fastens his cloak. Owing to the confused tracks, he will not yet need the enchantment of levitation his boots will grant him. He is intending to wait for Zendor to leave through the lodge's only point of exit; when he does, the spell-blade fully intends to follow the man wherever he may go, at least for awhile. In the short-term, at least, the man has just earned himself a new shadow.