Ynel takes a breather below the cliff, after sliding it down. She looks ahead, and around, and listens. No ghostly sighs. No gloaming wights in sight. She spends there a moment to gather her thoughts after the previous fright and compromize.
She had come all this way from Bree in effort to perform a task. A task shared with him by Eldanton, a man who believed himself cursed by an item that he carried. Their purpose was to return it to where it belonged - a towery tomb on the Fields of Fornost. Eldanton believed, that returnign the cursed circlet to it's owner's tomb would release him from the curse. Yet once they have come there, the dead had turned hostile to their charity. There was still somethign missing. A box, in which the item, the golden circlet, belonged. The wight had taken the man, Eldanton, and demanded that the box was to be returned, else he would not ever leave the tower. Ynel had ran, and now that she sat at the bottom of the canyon in which she had slipped into, she thought of her options.
A presence begins moving through the woods, the crunch of dead branches and the fluttering of birds all responses to the figure making themselves known. At the end of the build of sound a suspense, an elf reveals themself, beautiful and glowing the mist and shadow. Its bow is drawn, an arrow knocked back and trained on Ynel.
Ynel doesn't even grab her daggers, although she tursn swiftly towards the sound in a hunched position like a startled cat. She takes a deep breather, likely expecting another ghost to be glaring us. But she couldn't be sure, so she adresses the figure ahead. "Who art thou and what dost want of me?!"
Landallas approaches through the long grass, the bow still drawn, his glow perhaps making him easily mistaken for a wight or ghost. Still, his voice would confirm he is neither, soft and cool, "I fight for the living. And it would appear you do too." The bow is lowered, and his features are revealed. An elf, gorgeous to behold, staring down Ynel with no face of a friend.
Ynel narrows her eyes, perhaps to pierce better through the dark, perhaps of the strange awkwardness that one has to face, when coming across a being such as an elf. Her lip twitches a moment before she speaks. "I do indeed! And great is the need for it! A man waits upon the cliff, held by accursed spirit who took him for ransom! Hornyhearted goblins and hosts of high heaven!"
Landallas tilts his head to one side, one of his ears pricked and twitching at the news, as if a started rabbit. He lowers the bow further, as if now fully dismissing using it against her, "Ghosts taking prisoners? You lie." His tone is confrontational, but his bow says otherwise. He ascends the hill more, denying her the highground as his pale blue eyes gloss over her with distrust.
You say, 'Go and see for yourself. There he still stands, lest already consumed! It's a woesome turn for our journey! Now for me to release him alone!'
You mourn for the sorry state of the world.
Landallas says, 'What does this shade of evil want from you? What could sate the soul of one so filled with vengeance?'
You say, 'A box, in which his treasure is supposed to lay. It was taken...so the story goes, as I caught it.'
Landallas turns away from her, staring to the mists ahead as his cold voice calls, "Embroiled with gold, with handles that have not rusted in age, its skin alike to those of my kin - ancient and yet brand new?"
You say, 'That seems to fit the description. Do you have it?'
Landallas says, 'No, but I know where it lies. In the hands of the Orc kind, a great number of them too.'
You say, 'Would you show me to it?'
Landallas says, 'You wish to be beset my a host of Orcs? It is a camp, woman. You will not survive their meer sight, you have strayed to far from the road.'
You say, 'You had your arrow pointed at me a while ago. Now you deem to protect me? hat loss is it to you, if I walk into the orc camp?'
Landallas says, 'You? Nothing. But you wish for I to take you there. I see no reason to make myself an end for sake of your captured friend. He is likely fallen to their blades of light already.'
You say, 'It might aswell be me striking that balde into him, if I do not try to aid him! Aid a man in distress, say I! And even if I hold no bow on my shoulder, or sword upon my hip, I deem to do this task! And I believe in it nonwithstanding, and trust firmly in my cause!'
Landallas arches his head back, his blonde locks flowing near down the length of his back. He speaks, finally, when closer to her, his voice low as if the dead could hear them, "I came to this land from the Trollshaws, to see the few parts of history I have not lived..." He'd hold his bow tighter, and swayed by her determination, he reluctantly says, "To the camp I shall take you. And aid you if their numbers have thinned since last I saw them. But these words you should mark. They will not part with the chest freely, or without bloodshed. Their wrath shall follow you as long you have it."
You say, 'I am no fool, or a child. I woudl not risk an open battle. There are other ways to victory....if you came from the Trollshaws, you shoudl know. Even the stoutest beast falls, when the aim is correct. Show me to it, please.'
Landallas nods, and he says with a tone as if he will soon regret his words, "Very well. But keep close. The land itself here is treacherous, and the air would sooner deny itself of your lungs then keep you alive in a place such as this."
The elf guided the woman to the bottom fo the valley, where ruined structures and platforms mixed with the earth that aimed to swallow them. From the cracks and mids of rubble, strangely swirling fog rose, sighing as if the ground was breathing beneath. At places they had to step through that mist, and it blinded their vision and dulled their senses. Ynel hesitates to step through the mists, but follows the elf's step.
Landallas eyes the mists darkly, but fears little inside. Caution is his primary trait.
Landallas says, 'These mists. What would you say they are?'
You say, 'I do not know...'I fear to guess.'
Landallas eyes the totems ahead, murmuring back to her, "If you fear to guess, then I dread how you shall handle an Orc's charge."
You say, 'By running away.'
The ground slowly rose when they left the ruins, and the air cleared when they stepped up along the slope. Above, fires from the orc camps gloomed red agaisnt the dark sky.
Landallas takes to a knee in the grass, the Orcs on guard to distracted to pay them any heed at all, bickering and picking slime filled noses. Landallas readies his arrow, "What might be your approach? Stealth, or full charge?"
You say, 'There are two of us now. One distracts, the other grabs the treasure. No fighting is required, if we are lucky...'
andallas says, 'It was deep within, I am afraid. I saw it from on high.'
You say, 'Where? In this camp down here?
Landallas says, 'Nay. The chest stood by a crumbling tower.We can sneak through and hopefully past unnoticed, but the guard should be dealt with at the very least.'
You say, 'Can you point me to the exact tower? CAn you see it rom here?'
Landallas says, 'Nay. But I shall be able if we move round another way.'
Ynel quiets down as the come to the side of the wall
Landallas moves up the hill, leaping up with great agility. His bow is still held firmly, moving along the perimiter slowly and carefully. He peeks out from behind the seige works, then to his surprise, he spies the care. He whispers back to Ynel, "They moved it!" and with that, he frantically gestures, though the fall beside them is long.
Ynel moves to his side in attempt to see any direction he is pointing at
Landallas leans back, so she could lean round him as he murmurs, "The other side of that fire across the way." He jabs a finger round, pointing."'We will have to make quick work of the enemy should we wish to retrieve it."
You say, 'Do you dare a run through the camp? Or shoudl I do that instead? If there are archers....they might rely on them. But if the archers are eliminated, the meleetants will have to move.'
Landallas says, 'I am a far better marksman than any Orc could offer. I shall dispose of them, you make for the chest.'
Ynel nods
Landallas nods to her in return, murmuring, "On count of three. One, two...THREE!" He moves around, letting fly his arrows as each marks its target in splashes of black. They drop one by one, Eldanton taking to a knee as they all fall.
Ynel hunches down to pick up the chest. Balncing it in her arms she begisn to deliver it towards the gate of the camp, takign shelter from the structures.
Landallas moves out into the open somewhat, playing his bow like a lute. He twangs the strings and enemies fall in his wake, Orcs dropping at the feet and around Ynel.
Ynel manages to slip through the gap in the wall, and hurries down the slope
You say, 'Are we clear?'
Landallas follows on close behind, as the Orcs find their dead and howl to the skies, "I'd say not." Monstrous demands sweep over to them, filling their ears with calls to search the area and find the maggots that murdered.
You say, 'Run back throguh the fogs! MAye they dare not follow!'
Landallas says, 'FORTH!'
They ran through the flaming mists which they passed before. Their steps knowing their foot-hold from the previous passing. After a few minutes of blindly hurrying on, they come to the clearing on the other side.
You say, 'Is there a place here to hide?'
Landallas says, 'Up the way, we were concealed well before....Here should suit well.'
Ynel leans her back to the tree and pants hard. Her stamina is not that of a champion, apparently
Landallas looks down to his hipside quiver, his fingers prying apart the arrows, "There was no time to retrieve my arrows. Should you pass the Trollshaws, you owe me thirteen arrows of the finest elven make." He'd perhaps be jesting, not panting himself, standing tall as if rubbing in that fact.
Ynel looks at the box that lays agaisnt her heaving chest "Certainly..." she seems to agree, or perhaps not even concider it any further. She looks tempted to open the box, but hold her ambitions back for now. "This looks liek the one... I hope that you were right."
Landallas nods curtly, "It is the only one I have seen in this land. If it is not that one, then your friend shall fall to the hands of the dead." He looks off now, perhaps his interest in her dilemma waining. "You shall return it without my help. I am immortal enough without joining their ranks."
Ynel nods "VEry well." Then she lifts her eyes up and look to him sincerely. "Thankyou."
Landallas nods curtly, perhaps with mild dissaproval. Still, as curt an elf he is, he feels privately glad to have done his bit. He turns and moves on, the mist eventually swallowing him whole. Just like that, he is gone as quick as he came
