Treachery of Men RPG

[piosenniel]

Where comes light, darkness follows.....

The cautionary saying whispered through Grimr’s thoughts as he looked on at the entrance of the Elves. Instinctively he crossed the first two fingers of his right hand warding off misfortune even as he wished for favor. Third time sets the charm. followed the gesture. Though, he wondered if the circumstance of this charm would work for ill or good

‘Good sir! I thank you for the service you rendered us earlier this eve.’ The Elf who’d asked directions earlier drew close, his companion in tow.

‘My Lord..s,’ Grimr said, adding in the lead Elf’s companion. The both of them certainly looked like great lords. How was he to know their relation? For all he knew the one who’d asked the directions, the one who’d greeted him just now, was servant to the other. Better safe than sorry.

He felt Káta’s hand squeeze lightly the back of his upper arm.

‘Well.....here I am looking on like the rest of my fellow bumpkins,’ he went on, bowing his head a little as he smiled. ‘Name’s Grimr. And this,’ he said, his smile wider as she stepped forward, ‘is my good-wife, Káta.’ He had just introduced the twins, Fálki and Falarr, when a pair of familiar voices, raised in argument, distracted him.....

~*~

‘C’mon!’ Valr held his sister’s wrist in a tight grip as they made their way through the crowd. He’d turned back to look at her, reinforce his urgency, even as he ran forward. ‘You know I’ve got something important to tell Da and Mami.’

For her part, Jóra’s cheek had become quite flushed, her mouth hung in a silly and surprised little grin. And with her free arm she was pointing back behind her brother. ‘It’s them!’ she mouthed at him, her eyes gone wide.

It was too late, when Valr turned to see the source of his sister’s alarm. He couldn’t stop the force of their forward momentum. That is, he drew up mere inches away from the tall, fair man who stood nearest his father. But Jóra still flew forward, and banged into her brother - both of them careening, then, into the Elf.....

[bill_n_sam]

Dag's irritation over the unexpected development in the personal life of his family was swiftly interrupted by the appearance of his unwanted patron. With an unctious smile, Ulfast approached them, saying, "I welcome you, Dag, and you, Mem." Casting a glance at Mem, he added, "If your song is half as fair as your face, your fame is well-earned." Dag knew the words were a mere politeness, but still, coming hard on the heels of this news about Falki, the smith fairly bristled, although he tooks pain to hide this from the chieftain.

"Do you have the sword?" Ulfast asked.

"Aye, my lord." Dag replied, his voice carefully neutral. He handed the weapon cautiously to Ulfast, not wishing anyone to get the wrong idea that he was threatening the chieftain in any way. Ulfast turned it this way and that, admiring the blade. He nodded in satisfaction and Dag waited for any further instructions or comments.

Ulfast though, along with everyone else in the hall, turned his head suddenly as a hush fell over the assembly. Dag looked in the same direction as 100 other pair of eyes, and saw that the envoys had entered the great room through the main doors. There was no need for anyone to announce the presence of the elves, as all present could clearly see that these two were no mere men. Their height, their faces, even their ears gave them away.

Mem whispered in Dag's ear, "Is it the elves? What do they look like?" and he could feel her hand trembling, this time from excitement, or perhaps nervousness at the thought of her upcoming performance.

Dag replied as quietly as he could, "Yes, it's the envoy from the north. They are tall beyond any Ulfing, fair of face, with a lordly air about them. And wonder of wonders! Who do they go first to speak with?" Dag looked in amazement.

"Who?" Mem whispered fiercely.

"Your friend, at least, your friend's husband - Grimr, and Kata!" Dag shook his head in disbelief. Yes, certainly, his wife was wise. If Grimr was a man of such importance that the elven envoy should choose to speak to him before the sons of Ulfang even, then this was a man it would do well to have as an ally.

[Child of the 7th Age]

With all the commotion created by the Elves, no one noticed a solitary figure slipping unannounced through the crowd and quietly placing a parchment packet in the middle of the head table where the King and his sons would soon be seated for the feast. Grogr was a plain man, a loyal servant attached to Khandr’s household, who had lived among the Borrim for so long that he no longer thought of himself as an outsider. The man had no desire to come face-to-face with Ulfang or any of his sons who had made their lives so miserable these past few months. His chief desire was to deliver his message speedily and disappear before anyone could question him.

Fortunately, Lord Khandr had been sympathetic to this approach. In normal circumstances, his master would have spoken personally with the King rather than draft a formal letter and have it delivered by a servant. That, however, was impossible. Those at court had not even shown the decency of asking the Borrim ambassador to their feast. And from the way tongues wagged in the street, the old King had little power. It was the sons who ruled and decided things. Who knew if Ulfang was kept on such a tight leash that he could not even accept or turn down the offer that had been extended to him? Moreover, Khandr knew there was a real possibility that the Borrim offer of a hunt would be declined, and the ambassador did not want that announced at the public feast, which could happen if he pressed for an immediate acceptance.

After debating back and forth, Khandr had addressed the outside of the packet to both the King and his sons, and had instructed Grogr to deliver the parchment to court in such a way that one or more of the family would be sure to see it and respond by the next day. Grogr retreated to the back of the hall, standing in the shadows of a wooden pillar, and watched as one of the lords walked up to the table and took the packet in his hands, beginning to read it. Satisfied that the message had gotten to the right person, the servant left the hall and headed back towards the Borrim encampment.

Grogr knew the words of the missive by heart. Khandr could have a tongue of honey when he wanted to. He knew exactly what the Ulfang lord would see once he broke open the wax seal:

My Brethren,

It has been long since our people came together in open and friendly discourse not directly connected with matters of governance. The Elven ambassadors have just informed me that we will be going with your muster to the wars. Yet it will take us some time until all the preparations for this outward journey can be concluded.

In the meantime, I would like to make a proposal. In hopes of promoting ties of friendship that will aid our joint endeavor on the battlefield, I wish to sponsor a hunt that will take place one week from today. As you know, the Borrim are noted for their skills in the tracking and hunting of game. All those at court are welcome to attend and enjoy the chase as well as an outdoor feast that my household will provide. The citizens of your fair city are welcome to join in these festivities. I look forward to your response.

Khandr

Now there was nothing to do but wait for a reply.

[Anguirel]

Lachrandir was mighty and steadfast in body, and so when the first young Ulfing smashed into his torso he was but little discomited, even smiling thinly in apparent mirth. But the advent of Jora, as unexpected as that of her brother, toppled him back a step. Several Ulfings in turn scrambled to get out of the way of the looming Elf, creating rather a hubbub.

"Well," the ambassador concluded, "we do not greet each other with so much enthusiasm in my land, though perhaps with a little more grace of movement..." He had regained his composure now, and found himself faced with Ulfings more shamfaced and awkward even than before. With a strained smile, he turned again to Grimr, "Your children, I presume, Master Grimr? I am well used to the exuberance of the young." The envoy cast a sardonic but fond glance at the silent Tathren.

"Shall we now go and find a place, and partake of your splendid, ah, fare? I suppose we shall be expected to sit beside the Lord Ulfang, or his sons, but I would be glad to have your family about us, sir, especially as our relations have begun in such an...intense...fashion."

[Folwren]

Having done what needed to be done with Gausen, Uldor turned and walked away. He passed through the crowd easily, for men stepped back to make room for him. He stopped half way across the room, looking towards the elves’ entrance. His chest slowly expanded and fell again as he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He didn’t want to greet them. In fact, he did not actually want this banquet at all. He hated such formality – such shows of dishonest courtesy.

All the same, it had to be done. He moved forward again. Once more, a slight path was made for him. He lost sight of the elves for a moment, but he knew their general direction. Men’s gazes were more towards the elves than towards Uldor and more than once, Uldor had to pluck someone’s sleeve to make way for himself. At such instances, the man would start and draw away quickly, frightened.

Uldor came in sight of the elven envoys again just in time to see two children run pell-mell into the older ambassador. Uldor’s mood had been tolerable until then, but seeing the collision darkened it badly. As little as he respected the envoys in his own mind, he understood the necessity to give them proper show of respect, even if it was false. This…lack of proper behavior, or proper dignity, belonging in the Ulfang Hall annoyed and angered him.

He approached swiftly, striding forward with more purpose than before. He would have to make up, he realized, for some brat’s failure. What were children even doing there? This was not a party for just anyone!

He came within earshot of them as Lachrandir was in the midst of speaking. “I suppose we shall be expected to sit beside the Lord Ulfang, or his sons, but I would be glad to have your family about us, sir, especially as our relations have begun in such an…intense…fashion.”

Uldor bit his lip in vexation, but decided to ignore the words and speak as though he had heard nothing. “Good evening, my lord Lachrandir,” he said when he drew near enough. “Welcome! I am very glad to see that my message bearer found you. Please – the banquet is ready – come and we will find you your place.”

[Celuien]

Like the others in the hall, Ulfast had fallen into a silent, awestruck gaze when the Elves entered. It was strange, he thought, that even he, second son of Ulfang, and rightful heir to the Ulfing lordship, and one who had met the Elves before, still felt the same wonder as the common smith at his side. And yet, it was not strange; for the Elves held a hidden strength and power, and that power reached through the crowd to Ulfast, again awakening his desire to rise and rule over his people.

A twinge of annoyance passed over Ulfast when the children careened into Lachrandir. If Uldor wished to play chief, he should have been awaiting the guests' entrance to see that their proper hosts met them: not lesser guests and their half-wild children. The spell was broken. Again drawing forth the sword, he turned to Dag.

"You have done well, indeed." Ulfast hung the sword from his belt. "And you shall be well-rewarded."

He glanced back toward the Elves. Good. Uldor had finally seen fit to make his appearance.

"But now, be merry! The banquet begins soon. We shall speak again later."

Still annoyed, Ulfast directed his attention to his brother and the Elves and began to make his way towards them. As he moved through the crowd, he spotted Ulwarth at the banquet table. He held a paper in his hands, and seeing Ulfast, beckoned him to come to the table.

"A message?" asked Ulfast.

"Yes. What do you make of this?" Ulwarth handed him the note.

My Brethren,

It has been long since our people came together in open and friendly discourse ...

"What a stroke of good fortune! Say nothing to Uldor." He folded the paper. "Of course the hunt will go forward. And we will announce it tonight. Do you see? We will accept the offer of friendship on behalf of the Ulfings. Not Uldor."

Ulwarth smiled. "I do."

[Lalaith]

“I suppose there is nothing that can be done...” The other woman’s questioning tone and glance awakened a strange feeling in Embla.

Fear, excitement, hope, horror....all fought for mastery and the tumultuous confusion of emotions made her feel slightly sick. As she stood there in the windswept field, watching this beautiful creature and listening to her honeyed words – so kind, so wise - something else awakened in her, something she barely recognised. It was the latent gift of her people, so long buried under crippling layers of morose, sullen brooding.

What she felt from Jord was, above all else, fear. Why? There was nothing in the gaze of this woman that hinted at any secret dread or alarm. No, whatever else she was, the stranger was absolutely fearless. The sense of terror must come from something else. From others....it made no sense, no sense at all. Embla could no longer bear the conflict of feelings within her and she had an overwhelming desire to turn and run.

She thought again. One thing was certain. This woman had spoken to her, with gentle words of courtesy and understanding that no other living creature had shown her for years. Whatever her forebodings, she must talk to Jord again, seek the wise counsel of a woman far above her in prestige and in freedom. “Thank you for your respect, Lady,” she stammered. “I like to see your proud bearing, and would fain hold up my head so high, just as you do. Perhaps, if you could find the time, we can talk again? I wish for more counsel.....but I must go.” With that, Embla rushed off back to the Borrim camp. The tears that streamed from her eyes were, she told herself, pricked forth by the sharp winds. But she knew they had another, deeper cause.