Delmechia
Something bad is going on, and you don't want to take any unecessary risks. It's probably best to go back to the camp and try to figure things out from there.
You turn down one of the narrow side streets, and vanish into the dark and the rain. The buildings and clouds above all dark and gray.
After almost a half hour of trying to pass though the city without being seen, you come up to the Sandcross bridge, which crosses the Sandwater river. You lean over the concrete railing, while the cars pass back and forth behind you and ponder for a moment before reaching into a pocket on the pants beneath your cloak and retrieving your phone. Too many strange things have been going on.
You hope it has nothing to do with the human woman, but you've began to fear that it may. A flash of those last written words runs across your mind like heat lightning before dissolving back to darkness:
It all has to do with you.
You punch in a long series of digits and then wait for a moment while the phone beeps in your ear. After a moment, a voice comes on the other line. Deep and whispery, like your own.
"Yes."
"Murlough," you say. "It seems we have a problem."
"Problem? What kind of a problem?"
You recount to him the nights events, omitting your suspicion that they have anything to do with the woman.
"Drinking in Expuridius ea Tarador!" he says, once you've finished. "Gods be damned! What were you thinking staying over there? You are a respected elemental lord! First the human woman and now this?"
You don't answer him.
"The other members of our council will have to be informed of this, of course," he says. "For now at least, there's no need to mention anything to the elves, but something certainly seems to be going on."
"Yeah it does," you say. "I'll see you soon."
"Fine."
You hang up and pass over the bridge, watching the droplets of rain where they strike the running river and create circles that become less defined and vague as they spread larger and interact with the rings caused by the other drops around them; the current of the water bending them all away into the direction of its preset vector.
For the next twenty minutes you walk along the suburbs that mark Veyremendor, with the river on one side and some houses on the other. You keep your hood up, although you don't pass anybody; on this side of the river, there's hardly anyone but gnomes, and they all tend to sleep at a decent hour.
Eventually the houses give way to the Lantern Forst that marks the northeastern edge of Delmechia and at the forest's edge you come to a freshly made clearing. A black metal gate marks the entrance to your ecampment and through the resolute bars you can make out the flaps of grey tents and supple trucks in the light of campfires.
You pound on the metal three times and two hooded guards appear on the other side of fence before they shine a flashlight in your face. After a few seconds it clicks off and the gate doors swing inward. You enter and pull an identification card from one of the many pockets in your cloak to hand to one of the guards.
"Where is Murlough?" you ask as him as he scans over the details writ upon the I.D.
He spends another second reading and then hands you the card.
"He's waiting for you over there, my Lord," he says.
The guard points over to one of the supply trucks where another cloaked figure stands slouched against the bed with his hood turned in your direction.
"Thank-you."
As you walk through the camp, the sound of several dozen whispery rough voices enters your sensitive auditory system. Elementals and lords shooting the shit around the fires.
"Murlough," you say as you approach the cloaked enigma. He gives a subtle nod and then gestures with his arm.
"Come on; let's go to my quarters."
You follow him past the trucks until you come to one of the gray makeshift tents -- this one no different than the rest -- and he ducks under the front flap. You follow him inside and he works with a couple of the lanterns until the place is well-lit and then he throws back his hood. His face is similar to yours: stoic with well-defined features and almost handsome. Instead of having a teal tint to his skin however, his face is a charred crimson. A defining trait of the fire elementals.
"So what are we doing here?" you ask. "Shouldn't we be talking with The Boss and the other Lords?"
He looks at you seriously.
"That's what I thought at first, but..."
He shakes his head at the ground.
"What the hell are you getting at?" you ask.
"The Boss... everyone. They've got a lot of shit on their plate as it is. And you've been acting like an idiot lately."
"Well what do you want me to say?"
"Nothing. I'm only saying that it's not going to look good for you if everyone finds out where you were."
You give a small snort.
"Who do you think could be following you?" he asks. "Does it have something to do with the woman?"
"How the hell would I know? You know as much as I do."
"Hmm."
"Look," you say. "something's going on, no matter what. I don't know what the shooting was about, but it could have something to do with me and that's something that can't be taken lightly. So my question is why are we standing around here?"
"Because if you tell the Boss what you were doing, you might get exiled from the clan. I figured you wouldn't want that."
Instead of snorting this time, you actually give a small laugh.
"Exiled? Sounds like I wasn't the only one drinking tonight. At the very worst I'd lose my status as a Lord and you know it. Murlough, what are you playing at?"
He gives a deep sigh and then looks back into your eyes.
"You're a real pain in the ass sometimes," he says. "But fine. I'll tell you this: I have my own reasons for wanting to keep what happened to you private -- at least for now. Is that good enough?"
"Hmm. Why?"
He shakes his head.
"Do you have some batshit conspiracy theory going on in your head or what? You know none of the Lords would do anything to betray us."
"It's nothing like that," he says. "I just think... the less people that know about what happened, the better. At least for now."
"So what do you suggest? That I just don't say anything about what happened? That would be stupider than hell."
"Yeah, but we don't know exactly what's going on. Look, we could try to figure out what's going on by ourselves if you want. We're both off guard duty tomorrow, and that way nobody but us would have to get bothered with this."
You say nothing, but stand in thoughtful silence.
"We'll do whatever you want," Murlough says finally. "You're the one that got into this mess, so tell me what you want to do."
You turn down one of the narrow side streets, and vanish into the dark and the rain. The buildings and clouds above all dark and gray.
After almost a half hour of trying to pass though the city without being seen, you come up to the Sandcross bridge, which crosses the Sandwater river. You lean over the concrete railing, while the cars pass back and forth behind you and ponder for a moment before reaching into a pocket on the pants beneath your cloak and retrieving your phone. Too many strange things have been going on.
You hope it has nothing to do with the human woman, but you've began to fear that it may. A flash of those last written words runs across your mind like heat lightning before dissolving back to darkness:
It all has to do with you.
You punch in a long series of digits and then wait for a moment while the phone beeps in your ear. After a moment, a voice comes on the other line. Deep and whispery, like your own.
"Yes."
"Murlough," you say. "It seems we have a problem."
"Problem? What kind of a problem?"
You recount to him the nights events, omitting your suspicion that they have anything to do with the woman.
"Drinking in Expuridius ea Tarador!" he says, once you've finished. "Gods be damned! What were you thinking staying over there? You are a respected elemental lord! First the human woman and now this?"
You don't answer him.
"The other members of our council will have to be informed of this, of course," he says. "For now at least, there's no need to mention anything to the elves, but something certainly seems to be going on."
"Yeah it does," you say. "I'll see you soon."
"Fine."
You hang up and pass over the bridge, watching the droplets of rain where they strike the running river and create circles that become less defined and vague as they spread larger and interact with the rings caused by the other drops around them; the current of the water bending them all away into the direction of its preset vector.
For the next twenty minutes you walk along the suburbs that mark Veyremendor, with the river on one side and some houses on the other. You keep your hood up, although you don't pass anybody; on this side of the river, there's hardly anyone but gnomes, and they all tend to sleep at a decent hour.
Eventually the houses give way to the Lantern Forst that marks the northeastern edge of Delmechia and at the forest's edge you come to a freshly made clearing. A black metal gate marks the entrance to your ecampment and through the resolute bars you can make out the flaps of grey tents and supple trucks in the light of campfires.
You pound on the metal three times and two hooded guards appear on the other side of fence before they shine a flashlight in your face. After a few seconds it clicks off and the gate doors swing inward. You enter and pull an identification card from one of the many pockets in your cloak to hand to one of the guards.
"Where is Murlough?" you ask as him as he scans over the details writ upon the I.D.
He spends another second reading and then hands you the card.
"He's waiting for you over there, my Lord," he says.
The guard points over to one of the supply trucks where another cloaked figure stands slouched against the bed with his hood turned in your direction.
"Thank-you."
As you walk through the camp, the sound of several dozen whispery rough voices enters your sensitive auditory system. Elementals and lords shooting the shit around the fires.
"Murlough," you say as you approach the cloaked enigma. He gives a subtle nod and then gestures with his arm.
"Come on; let's go to my quarters."
You follow him past the trucks until you come to one of the gray makeshift tents -- this one no different than the rest -- and he ducks under the front flap. You follow him inside and he works with a couple of the lanterns until the place is well-lit and then he throws back his hood. His face is similar to yours: stoic with well-defined features and almost handsome. Instead of having a teal tint to his skin however, his face is a charred crimson. A defining trait of the fire elementals.
"So what are we doing here?" you ask. "Shouldn't we be talking with The Boss and the other Lords?"
He looks at you seriously.
"That's what I thought at first, but..."
He shakes his head at the ground.
"What the hell are you getting at?" you ask.
"The Boss... everyone. They've got a lot of shit on their plate as it is. And you've been acting like an idiot lately."
"Well what do you want me to say?"
"Nothing. I'm only saying that it's not going to look good for you if everyone finds out where you were."
You give a small snort.
"Who do you think could be following you?" he asks. "Does it have something to do with the woman?"
"How the hell would I know? You know as much as I do."
"Hmm."
"Look," you say. "something's going on, no matter what. I don't know what the shooting was about, but it could have something to do with me and that's something that can't be taken lightly. So my question is why are we standing around here?"
"Because if you tell the Boss what you were doing, you might get exiled from the clan. I figured you wouldn't want that."
Instead of snorting this time, you actually give a small laugh.
"Exiled? Sounds like I wasn't the only one drinking tonight. At the very worst I'd lose my status as a Lord and you know it. Murlough, what are you playing at?"
He gives a deep sigh and then looks back into your eyes.
"You're a real pain in the ass sometimes," he says. "But fine. I'll tell you this: I have my own reasons for wanting to keep what happened to you private -- at least for now. Is that good enough?"
"Hmm. Why?"
He shakes his head.
"Do you have some batshit conspiracy theory going on in your head or what? You know none of the Lords would do anything to betray us."
"It's nothing like that," he says. "I just think... the less people that know about what happened, the better. At least for now."
"So what do you suggest? That I just don't say anything about what happened? That would be stupider than hell."
"Yeah, but we don't know exactly what's going on. Look, we could try to figure out what's going on by ourselves if you want. We're both off guard duty tomorrow, and that way nobody but us would have to get bothered with this."
You say nothing, but stand in thoughtful silence.
"We'll do whatever you want," Murlough says finally. "You're the one that got into this mess, so tell me what you want to do."