Flee

[molly molly molly 1329]

 

The thundering sound of hooves from a single rider on horseback, crackling fire, the sound of daggers in the dark, the hushed words of masked figures in the night, and screaming filled the piercing night air of Caras Eldar.

 

Loud screaming.

Early in the evening, what seemed to be the only bronze adorned guard in all of Caras Eldar made his daily rounds around each district. Greiret Elverhilin made his nightly patrol, which consisted of surveying the bustling Forest District where the wood elves resided, the Docks where the dark elves resided, and the Highrises where the high elves resided.

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The guardsman made his first rounds in the Forest District, and upon initial entry out of the gatehouse, he could already conclude it it to be peaceful and quiet at the present moment. Upon entering the square, the guard observed elves of all variety speaking with one another; druids and wood elves, brown haired mixed elves and white cloaked high elves, even some Reiters in their military uniforms could be seen milling about the district. Joyous and perhaps even flirtatious elves enjoyed the night, the guardsman determining that the night seemed quite jubilant. The air was ripe, and a soft breeze blew over the warm town, cooling it’s inhabitants in the night air. It was so peaceful in fact that the guard stopped down in the tavern to play a game of chess with a mali’ker in the district at the time, which ended in a formidable draw. The two elves shook hands and exchanged smiles after the chess battle.

The white haired mixed elf made his next stop in the docks, the Dark Elven district. All seemed to be relatively peaceful for the time being, as it seemed the many mali’ker were either asleep, speaking, dining, drinking, or doing all in their homes, from what one could assume, likely joyously. The scent in the dark elven district was a bit foul to the guard, but nothing was unusual. The scent of mushrooms, incense burnings and raw fish was strange and foreign to him, and was all rather nauseating. The white haired elf soon left this district, strolling up the steps - stopping at once.

Something seemed off - something about the air didn’t seem right. No, something was certainly awry. Throughout his entire patrol he had found not encountered any other bronze garbed Virarim. At the gates of the ‘ker district, he observed several blue garbed, masked individuals all bearing a variety of weapons - swords, glaives, daggers and menacing curved blades. They were headed to the High Elven district, trotting there in a threatening march. The guard quickly cast a spell, observing their thoughts carefully with his magic.

 

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“Mages Guild.”

 

Repeated over and over again, this was the most prevailing thought amongst them all.

These inquisitioners continued their deathly march toward the mage’s spire, the guardsman watching dumbfounded. He seemed paralyzed where he stood at the ‘ker’s gate, unable to move his feet from where they seemed to be glued to the floor. He took off after them, after what seemed to be a cult. They were going to attack what he considered home, his only source of arcane knowledge and wisdom in the community. The Mages’ Guild was elusive and mysterious to the guard, and encapsulated the elf with the notion of magical arcane arts at even a young age, and even still in his older age. These thoughts are what motivated him to keep going up the stairs to the pristine marble district, to protect his home, and source of strength. They were hard, heavy steps, for he knew what likely awaited him.
 

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Upon arriving to the Guild, he could see two things; the Guild being ransacked, and the Forested Throne empty. Greiret made his way to the Guild hall, observing those who ransacked the building. They were the same individuals as before, garbed in blue yet their masks leaked browns and oranges, the color of their skin and their eyes. Their eyes were ravenous, like raging animals on a hunt, but Greiret knew their mark nonetheless - they were his Virarim brothers and sisters.

In an instant, it all clicked. Greiret knew what was happening. His fears were confirmed further when a fellow Guild associate, Ceruberr, was clubbed in the back of his knees at the joint, forcibly bent to the ground. Doors were kicked down as the masked Virarim stormed into the building, the loud sound piercing the evening air.

 

Greiret watched this communal pillar of knowledge be attacked, pillaged by those he considered brothers and sisters, onlooking paralyzed, sickened with fear. The man’s face watched on with horror, a dumbfounded expression replacing his often cheery, jubilant one as Guild members fled, tackled in the streets. Unable to form words, and walking at no more than a slow, huddled shuffle, the white haired elf meandered across the landbridge to the Forested Throne, stopping in front of it to gaze upon it. A friend, Quillian Caerme’onn approached him at this point, hushed whispers coming from her voice behind him. He hardly made out any of what she could say, everything was hazy and he was in a dazed trance.

However, the word “rebel” was heard as clear as day.

Greiret stared down upon his bronze breastplate, recounting the numerous battles it was worn into. Orcish raids, Courlandic wars, shade hunts and more, this breastplate had gone through a lot. The old breastplate was tattered and damaged in numerous spots, but polished and well kept despite it’s condition. His arms reached underneath the latches hesitantly, beginning to unwrap this bronze shackle around his body. He knew this would be the last time he wore his breastplate, as he now held the metal with both of his hands. With digits clutched tightly against the edge of the shapely bronze metal, he hurled the bronze plate, telekinetically forcing it to travel through the air, it’s arc ending at the foot of the throne.

His head shook back and forth in response to her words, “I am finished.” He muttered to Quillian, before storming out of the Forested Throne room, though he stopped, thinking for a moment. His thoughts were a swirl, unable to be able to be processed - but there was one thing he knew for certain; he had to leave. With more confidence in his steps, he headed to his tree home one last time. Quickly packing assorted objects of value, they were all moved telekinetically down to the ground floor, where his steed awaited him. With his old friend, and lover, Cheza, waiting for him on horseback, Greiret quickly jumped on the horse’s back, picking up the goods and securing them inside of saddlebags, and outside of saddlebags. Pulling over his old crimson traveler’s cloak, the sounds of screaming off in the distance were heard.

Loud screaming.

 

Someone was caught.

 

A quick look back confirmed what he feared - Quillian on a pyre, her skin being flayed off by King Kairn himself. Her position on a pyre suggested she was to be soon set alight, burned at the stake.

 

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His gut reaction was to shed tears. An overwhelming mixture of emotions surrounded the elf when reflecting upon what his tenure brought; of nostalgia, duty and honor initially, confusion and uncertainty later, and overwhelming sadness and grief now.

 

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Late at night, Greiret Elverhilin stormed out of the city of Caras Eldar on horseback with his lover, carrying many valuable possessions on horseback, as much as his horse could carry; he would not be coming back. He would not become another soul screaming for bloody murder in the night, dragged from his home in his night attire and lynched simply for who he was.

 

Greiret Elverhilin had served his part. For thirty years in the Virarim, he served faithfully under two high princes and one king, defending the crown against tyranny and orcish oppression, and then even some more even before that, supporting King Kairn when he was known as ‘Calithil’ during his Bronze Rebellion. Greiret had determined this town was no place for him, intellectuals and magical philosophers were not welcome; only Aspectists who were unwilling to budge. This filled him with an overwhelming sense of grief, for he had lost what many long for; a sense of belonging, a home. But this home was broken, no more willing to accept him. These thoughts flooded his mind, and he reflected long upon these thoughts during his journey. They filled him with an unknown sadness.

 

Greiret Elverhilin, the once officer of the Virarim, fled the Dominion, the magical philosopher leaving only a trail of dust in his wake. He was terrified of what the Dominion had become.




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OOC Note: I understand fully that these events were shade huntings, and am telling this story from my character's perspective, so please keep that in mind. Thank you!

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[Unwillingly 18119]

Cyrene would stare up at the hulking walls of Caras Eldar, soon shaking her head as she turned off back to her city.

"Sutica welcomes you with open arms, no matter the race, nation, or magic." 

[Dragonslayerelf 654]

“And get out y’weaklivered bastard” said the grumpy ginger Immortal just before lighting his 3rd blunt that evening, the smoke from the rolled up paper tube of cactus green suffusing the air, the smell of the herb hanging around the man like a cloud now. “No fuckin’ mages’n’ere.” He’d then take a flask of highly distilled alcohol attached from his belt and took a sip of it, his mind slowly becoming doubly addled “Yer a cow’rd’n’a trait’r’t yer nation.” He’d still be wearing the outfit given to him by his King, the blue outfit of a common thug, but without a helmet, merely remaining in a dark alleyway in Irrinor, a shadowy blotch on the wall.

 

((Really good post though, well written and immersive. I almost felt bad for breaking into the mages guild!))

[BonesOfTheEarth 2252]

1 hour ago, Unwillingly said:

Cyrene would stare up at the hulking walls of Caras Eldar, soon shaking her head as she turned off back to her city.

"Sutica welcomes you with open arms, no matter the race, nation, or magic." 

A skeleton rubs away his whiteboard marker eyebrow, redrawing it to be raised

[Guest]

"A shame. Greiret was among my greatest friends."

 

The King had a guilty expression on his face, appearing to dawdle for once, uncomfortable with the thought of him leaving.

"Emergencies. Desperate times call for desperate measures. I will speak to him." 

[Unwillingly 18119]

37 minutes ago, Fury_Fire said:

A skeleton rubs away his whiteboard marker eyebrow, redrawing it to be raised

"As long as you don't require life force." she paused. "I think. I dont know if there's any conditions on what kind of spooks are permitted in our walls... Oh, what the heck. Stop by anyways." 

[Will (TauFirewarrior) 2466]

6 hours ago, Unwillingly said:

Cyrene would stare up at the hulking walls of Caras Eldar, soon shaking her head as she turned off back to her city.

"Sutica welcomes you with open arms, no matter the race, nation, or magic." 

"We killed Shades, do you welcome Shades?" remarks Abelas

[Chase 3793]

"A close friend to me as well." Remarked the Lord Imperator to Kairn, "And if he does not return, I wish him the best of luck in his future endeavors."

[Skylez 870]

"A surprising turn of events," remarks an artificer from the bowels of his workshop - looking onto the work in progress that would be one of his finest creation yet. He reached in with a wrench, tightening one of the several cogs. "Magi are a blight, whether using the void, dark, or some deity."

[Unwillingly 18119]

2 hours ago, Will (TauFirewarrior) said:

"We killed Shades, do you welcome Shades?" remarks Abelas

"We cannot be a truly neutral state if we don't welcome all within our walls. However, from what I know, shades do not reside within Sutica as far as I'm aware. Even if they have, they've caused no trouble with us. We only serve as a refuge for those who don't wish to be slain for their race, practice of magic, or who they choose to love," she coughs. "Like I said, a truly neutral state."  

[Runabarn 1028]

From atop a rooftop in the dead of night a masked Saliva observes the foul den of violence that is the Dominion.

"Wrath and pride... This should do nicely."

 

 

 

((Quality roleplay by the way))

Spoiler

https://prnt.sc/jw7a5s

 

[Gone 869]

Only when she was certain Greiret had entered a deep sleep did Cheza let herself move away from his side. She could feel the emotions twisting around even in his slumber, the man would find no rest despite the comforting settings and neither would she this night. Quietly she left the room and retreated to an altar placed within the home. A rather simple thing, made of wood, with candles and a large mirror yet still it gave her comfort to kneel at. To peer into the depths of the old glass, to study the reflections and shadows that the candles' flames seemed to make dance.

 

"They want to search for monsters yet ignore the ones staring back at them from the looking glass."

[winterblood 11181]

Nemir stared blankly down at the floor.  Her hands were covered in the blood of her nephew, who now laid unconscious on the table beside her.  His shirt was torn open, revealing his chest that was littered with gashes.  They had been stitched up to help the Ascended heal even more swiftly.  The high elven woman's attire was damp, bearing the stains of her nephew's blood and her sweat.  The whole night had been an intense mess.

 

She barely remembered sneaking out from her home with the others as the Virarim busted down the doors to her brother's home beneath hers.  She barely remembered fleeing Caras Eldar or even leaping into the dark waters from the city's walls.  Nemir still couldn't believe how they all managed to reach the island or Alwin's home.  When she was helping Arik, all she could remember was the color red and the panic in her voice as she begged him to stay with her.

 

Many thoughts ran through the woman's head.  Is it no longer safe to return home?  Where will I go after this?  Is Crumena safe?  Are my other friends even safe?  Am I alone?  She wanted the night to be over.  All she wanted was to go home.

[__WaterFox__ 636]

8 hours ago, Unwillingly said:

"We cannot be a truly neutral state if we don't welcome all within our walls. However, from what I know, shades do not reside within Sutica as far as I'm aware. Even if they have, they've caused no trouble with us. We only serve as a refuge for those who don't wish to be slain for their race, practice of magic, or who they choose to love," she coughs. "Like I said, a truly neutral state."  

"Cyrene, we don't welcome dark creatures or mages. For your husband's sake if not Sutica's, stop saying these things!" Zatanaes yelled from her tavern

[Unwillingly 18119]

24 minutes ago, Snelfma said:

"Cyrene, we don't welcome dark creatures or mages. For your husband's sake if not Sutica's, stop saying these things!" Zatanaes yelled from her tavern

"Zatanaes just because you are a cleric doesn't mean you're above the law, even if you think it does." she snapped back. "Did I say we welcome the ******* dreadknights into Sutica? Or Necromancers? Hmm? No, nor do we. This isn't Kary's Sutica anymore." she replied angrily.