Third Age

A crescent moon hung high in the night sky, washing the land in pale light. Crickets chirped softly in the tall grass of the hills. A soft breeze rolled through the grass and it seemed as if the stalks would dance. The stars twinkled above the heavens, watching the world. Below, a shadow moved through the grass. It stopped, stooped low and sniffed at the dirt. They were close.

The Ranger had been tracking the strangers for three days and nights. She had found their tracks on the heaths of the edge of Beorem. The tracks seemed strange to her eyes, pressing so heavily into the dirt. Something heavy had made them. Men in armor. A small band by her count. The boots did not seem of local make, however. They were stiff and sharp, not smooth like the any metalwork of Beorem.

Concerned, she had followed. One the first night, she passed into Falroth land. On the second she spied the band, still far off, headed into the hills. They hoped to find concealment there, no doubt. Now she had them her ears twitched beneath her green hood. They slept. One man kept watch.

From the sheath upon her chest, the woman drew a wicked looking knife and stalked towards the camp. Not long after the watchman's throat had been slit, all but one of his fellows followed.

She awoke him, pressing her boot against his neck. He coughed.

"How strange," she said, "that I should find men traveling like thieves in the night. Speak quickly, lest you join the rest of your group. What business do strangers of Beorem have in Falroth?"

Through coughs and gasps, the man said, "We are but simple merchants."

The ranger pressed down harder. She could see the man's face turn blue. "I hear lies. I suggest you speak the truth. You have precious little time until you sleep."

The man tapped her boot and she eased her foot from her neck. The man then spit upon her. With a grimace, the woman pressed her heel down once more.

"You choose poorly." And with that, she hacked his head clean from the neck.

Upon searching the men's encampment further, the woman found something she did not expect. Something that chilled her in the warm Spring night.

Wasting no time, the Ranger collected what she needed and departed, heading east.

-----

The streets of the city of Falroth hustled and bustled in the mid-day sun. From the crowds, the Ranger approached the doors of the Merchant Guild. Slung over her shoulder was a burlap sack.

Guards blocked her entrance. She threw back her hood, revealing the ears of a wolf and proud eyes.

"A Ranger of the Eiarthden requests immediate council with the leaders of Falroth. I come bearing urgent news."

The sun gleamed down from high in the sky, beating down hotly on a black-cloaked figure standing in front of the doors to the Merchant Guild of Falroth. The figure shifted slightly under the sun, feeling sweat trickling down her back beneath iron armor and her dark cloak.

Calaun Waer, ex-Beorem militant and now mercenary to the highest bidder, was rather bored this fateful day. The spring sun was hot on her dark figure, and she hadn't any true action in quite some time. Mostly these days, it was guarding places like these, within city walls and few dared to go up against the hired guards.

Calaun looked out over the crowds of civilians passing by the Guild disinterestedly. A figure in a dark green cloak appeared in the crowd; Calaun would have overlooked the figure had it not came straight for the Guild, as if intending to go in. Calaun caught the attention of another guard, jerking her head toward the figure, and they moved to block the way of the cloaked figure.

"None shall pass!" Calaun warned, her deep tone unrevealing of her true gender.

The figure stopped and threw back her hood, revealing sharp amber eyes and wolf ears. "A Ranger of the Eiarthden requests immediate council with the leaders of Falroth. I come bearing urgent news."

Calaun pulled back and exchanged glances with the other guard. She had heard of the Rangers, though not much was known about them. Calaun jerked her head toward the double-door entrance. "I've got this," she stated clearly, and the other guards returned to their previous positions.

Calaun returned her attention onto the so-called 'Ranger,' pulling back her own hood to reveal her own face, brown hair pulled back in a braid as usual. "You've got my attention, 'Ranger,' but I'll be watching you carefully," she warned seriously.

She led the way through the thick wooden doors, pausing outside the main Council Room doors. "Stay here while I announce you," she ordered the Fey.

Calaun then knocked on the door gently, opening it when allowed by a voice. "A Ranger from Eiarthden claims she has some important news to bring you, sirs," she stated, head bowed.

The two were allowed in, and Calaun looked to the Ranger expectantly.

(For this RP, I'll be using some music for some posts to accent the mood. I'll indicate where to start and stop listening to each song~)

Song A:

|Earlier that morning, in the light climax of morning that happens just before it resolves into mid-day|

"Aaaaaand... begin."

(Start "Song A")

Sweet chords of string music began filling the illuminated studio room of Rococo Sylvari, a well-respected High Elf master in the field of painting. Rococo stood at a lanky 6'-7"; his curly hair dyed a strong bronze color while his well-trimmed, short facial hair remained it's natural blonde. His eyes shimmered a delicate baby blue as they focused diligently on his current work. They darted periodically from the canvas, to his subject; and then back to the canvas his thin, effeminate hands were working. Behind his easel, a dainty room with white walls stretched out before him, ending in a bay window gridded with delicate, bronze framing. The white walls were adorned with built-in mirrors sporting floral gilding around the edges. The junction between the walls and the ceiling was curved and disguised by paintings and delicate gilded stuccowork. The floor was laid with tiles of what marble and sandstone. In each corner of the bay window, a pale blonde female subject in the nude sat. Each was about 6' and of thin, fragile physique. The model on Rococo's left played a sleek, black piano. The other, on the opposite side, a polished wooden violin. They sat like posed dolls on drapes of satin that wrapped around their legs, only moving what was necessary to play the instruments they held.

In the dead center of the room, about eight and a half feet away from where Rococo was working, a golden swing was suspended from the ceiling. On either side of the swing stood marble vases filled with vibrant spring flowers. On the floor around the swing were scattered soft petals in muted pastel colors. Seated on the swing was a 6'-2" High Elf, posed elegantly with her legs angled to Rococo's left and her feet pointed down towards the floor. Her torso swiveled slightly so that her cheek was nearly pressing against the left chord suspending the swing; her body appearing to be caught in a strange paradox of still motion. Her body was covered only by an ivory-colored satin dress, accented with actual ivory and lined with gold floral stitching near the hem. The dress was pulled up to the place where the High Elf's legs and torso met, the soft and shimmery cloth framing the gently crossed pale legs as it cascaded down around them. The dress itself was only loosely fastened around the High Elf's body and it was already beginning to slide down her form. The short sleeves of the dress had fallen around the High Elf's elbows and now embraced them loosely. The Elf's pale right hand held the dress's loose, low-cut neckline against the lower-middle of her bosoms, coyly preventing it from falling and exposing the flesh of her chest beyond the cleavage that was already visible. Strange yet elegant tattoos of magical spells and texts sprawled like sheet music over the Elf's exposed and unexposed skin; only her hands, ankles, and feet were void of the intricate ink work. Her other hand daintily held onto the swing's right chord, keeping an elegant two-fingered grip on the handle of a bronze gilded teacup made of blue-tinted fine china in the same motion. The Elf had a proud body and a proud face (angled into a slight bow as she looked down towards not the floor, but towards Rococo's feet in front of her as they tapped impatiently against the light-colored floor tiles); she exuded an aura that demanded respect. Long, thin gold earrings shaped into equilateral crosses, intersected near the ends of each arm by two short perpendicular lines and also tipped by an arrow shape on the end of each arm, hung from the High Elf's acutely pointed ears. The light coming from the bay windows that the High Elf had her back to played off of the earrings, reflecting onto the Elf's soft cheeks and into her carefully tussled hair. The Elf had a considerable length of naturally-straight, pale blonde hair that was pulled into a single loose ponytail with a bronze ribbon made of crush velvet and now draped over her left shoulder. She had side swept bangs, made up mostly of a large patch of very light chestnut hair (a natural coloring) framed and in some places invaded by pale blonde tendrils, fluffed and airy-looking. The Elf's ice blue eyes, flecked visibly by jade green, were accented with a gentle dusting of bronze makeup. The only other makeup present on the Elf's face was a slight pink accenting her natural blush. The Elf's plump lips were left untouched by any altering substance, so not to alter their naturally silky texture and healthy nude coloring.

This was the Court Arcane Mage Ninquië Itham; enjoying a relaxing day of modeling for her dear best friend. Nin tended to keep these extended meetings with her friend (who trumped her own age by twelve years) private, bot for personal reasons and for Rococo's safety. Despite this, a handful of people knew of the relationship they shared and often spread rumors that the two fancied each other. These rumors could not be further from the truth. In fact, one of the main things that the two elves shared in common was their complete and utter lack of any attraction for their opposing gender.

Nin was very used to him asking these sorts of favors from her; he was rather partial to painting her tattooed form when he wasn't painting male nudes or lush landscapes. With male nudes. He wasn't exactly doing a great job of hiding his slightly taboo sexuality, in Nin's opinion; though Rococo constantly claimed it was all for the art.

"Nin darling, please angle you legs the slightest bit more," Rococo called out, his eyebrows furrowing as he worked, "...And find yourself a romantic partner already would you please? Maybe someone else with full-body tattoos..... you two could even bond over that."

Nin rolled her eyes, her head shifting from a dip downward to a tilt upwards; opening up towards the ceiling. "You only wish me to find someone because you like painting tattoos, Coco. I see right through you," she commented flatly as her head moved. As she finished speaking she realized her mistake, and started to correct her pose. She wasn't too apologetic about it, however; she knew Coco had something of a "photographic memory" (a complete lie spread around as a rumor by Rococo himself to intimidate other artists, he was just very observant and diligent with his sketching; rarely missing a single detail in even basic sketches).

"WAIT!!" Coco called, making Nin freeze completely. He had been watching her, and he had seen something he had liked. He threw the current canvas and the eloquent sketch it bore to the side and retrieved a fresh one from behind him. "Go back to what you were just doing; that was an absolutely gorgeous moment. I want it in oils," the artist demanded. Nin gave an annoyed "tch", but a smile played on her face. Nin wasn't one to subject to bossy attitudes when she was receiving orders, but she had grown used to and even rather fond of the snappy attitude her friend displayed while he worked. She found it to be admirable, expected, and admittedly rather adorable. Nin did as he told her, angling her face back up towards the ceiling. The Elf's multicolored orbs looked up towards the curved junction between wall and ceiling behind Rococo's head, glimmering as they caught a stray beam of light from one of the nearby mirrors. Her lips posed themselves into a pensive, almost impatient shape; parting just enough for the straight, pearly white teeth in her upper jaw to be slightly visible; even from a distance.

"Yes... yes, that's exactly it....." Coco gasped excitedly through his teeth, his eyes glued to his work. His hand screamed across the canvas with newfound inspiration; his dense charcoal leaving light, elegant lines on the plain white material. After a bit of zealous work, Rococo felt he had successfully captured a good framework sketch and had calmed down a bit. His hand slowed down, and he returned to his gentle, slow movements as he worked to capture more of the space. "...back to our original conversation, yes, I may have suggested the tattooed maiden in jest. My sentiments are genuine, though. I'm ever so tired of painting you alone." Coco sighed, his face full of compassion for his friend. "I know why you go to such pains to hide yourself, Nin darling, but you've got to know that repressing such a huge part of who you are just isn't good for you." He looked up at Nin with caring eyes, eye full of somber melancholy. Nin did not break her pose beyond bringing the teacup to her lips for a quick sip of the fragrant herbal beverage being held within the cup. She then placed her hand back into it's original position, without breaking her faraway gaze, to the best of her ability.

Rococo sighed and returned his deep gaze to the canvas he was working on. He drew a few half-hearted detail lines before speaking up again, "...this just isn't right, you know. It's not a healthy practice to bottle yourself up so tightly, especially not considering the fervor with which you practice. Whether you notice it or not, you have a tendency to be too adamant about hiding your inner individual, even what's beyond your sexuality. You're hurting yourself, dear Nin."

Nin sighed a tiny sigh, trying her best not to move. She could feel her friend's deep, caring emotions striking her core powerfully, like a large wave claiming the soft sands of the beach as it's own. She wanted to listen to him; she wanted to give his words more consideration. She did, she honestly did. Realistically, however, the Elf knew she couldn't. Not with her high-ranking job; not with the demanding social image she had to keep up. No, this role she played was too much, too-soul consuming for Nin to consider breaking it. Especially for a relationship. A relationship that would realistically never last, and would inevitably find it's foundation in money anyways. No, that kind of romance wasn't nearly important enough to make Nin reconsider her secretive lifestyle. She would stay as she was; the only logical choice in Nin's mind. Still, it brought Nin pain to think about it. The High Elf sat quietly in her swing, fighting the inexplicable lump in her throat. Her posed façade wavered as she was struck with confusion and internal questioning. If it was the only logical choice for her to make, why did she still hurt over it? Why did she feel so dejected by something she knew to be true?

Coco looked up at Nin as her internal conflicts surface in her demeanor; muted and repressed, but visible. His eyes shone with a warm, empathetic light. He knew this wouldn't be the time he got through to her, but that had't been his goal to begin with. He knew how Nin worked; he only needed to get her to think. The girl was a scientist; an artist of magic working through the medium of logic. Thinking was her life. Seeing that he had successfully done just that, he decided to relieve Nin of some of the emotional turmoil built up within her chest. "Nin darling," he called, a coy twinkle present in his eye as he caught the fellow High Elf's attention, "...your hand. It was about an inch below where you have it placed currently."

Nin snorted. So he had called her out on it. Cheeky, as always. "Fine, fine," she conceded adjusting her hand. She raised an eyebrow, her demeanor changing to meet the coyness in Coco's gaze. "Are you sure that frantic hand of yours didn't just misplace my hand for me in sketch?" she suggested playfully.

"My dear, you know that to be impossible. I am the best at what I do," Coco boasted proudly. Nin couldn't help but giggle, causing her body to loosen up and morph into a more natural version of her original, proud pose. She couldn't help but love Rococo's quirky personality and his even quirkier sense of humor.

"Coco," Nin began with a more serious tone, "you know I love you, and I know your comments are for my benefit. But I just can't stop my behaviors now, not when my social and professional lives require these strict behaviors in order for me to function in them. That's more important than any half-baked relationship available to me in the atmospheres where I reside. I'm just not attracted to anyone around me in a deep enough, an important enough way," Nin sighed. She gave Rococo a slightly scolding look before continuing, "...that, and people like us aren't exactly 'well-accepted' in the High Elf settlements and the city states we call home, friend. That may be different elsewhere, but not here. Sometimes I think you forget this, and quite frankly it worries me," the female High Elf remarked, gesturing to some of the male nudes Rococo had very conspicuously displayed on the walls of his studio with her eyes.

"My dear, I have nothing to say to that. I am a purveyor of the great Arts, nothing more," Rococo scoffed humorously.

Before either High Elf could say anything more, one of Rococo's male assistants/models entered the studio from the door to Coco's right, the one leading to the foyer of the studio building. "My apologies," the youthful blonde interjected apologetically, "but an entourage of two has come seeking m'lady Itham. They're requesting her presence at the court straightaway on urgent business," he reported.

Nin straightened out in her swing, breaking pose completely. She streached her legs and arms, tense after the hours of posing she had been sitting through. Rococo sighed, looked at Nin, then looked at the mid-day sun filtering in through the bay windows. "That's alright," he sighed in response to Nin's stone gaze, "we lost the light I wanted to work with, anyways."

"I'm sorry, Coco," Nin offered honestly as she stood with the help of the young assistant who had announced her entourage, "you know how it is when I have free time. It's never truly 'free' time." She took a few wobbly steps towards the changing room; a door on the wall to Coco's left. He only sighed and rubbed his forehead in agreement, allowing her to retreat to the changing room where she disrobed and put her own, day-to-day outfit, complete with silver heels, silver earrings and horned headpiece. The sectioned white gown with light blue, lilac, silver, and gold accents she wore covered her entire body, swallowing the tattoos she bore into invisible anonymity. Even the dresses low-cut neckline was covered by a long, frilly ascot choker that engulfed her entire neck, from her shoulders to her lower jaw. The attire made her look very professional, though it still had a sly way of accentuating Nin's very feminine figure. Nin's hair was done into it's usual two small ponytails hanging down over her shoulders, the rest of her straight blonde hair cascading neatly down her back.

Rococo watched as Nin marched out of the dressing room in preparation to join the entourage awaiting her. "Blah, that old thing again? Try dressing yourself with some real style, darling."

"Hah, and just two years ago you were calling this dress of mine the 'pinnacle of fashion,'" Nin scoffed back.

"Two years is quite the period of time, my dear. The only style your way of dress fits in with nowadays is the head belt theme you're somehow managing to keep with." Rococo smiled; he did love the banter he exchanged with Nin. "Try not to work yourself to death, my dear. It's not attractive," Coco called to his friend as she began to see herself out into the foyer.

"I cannot make any promises, Coco," Nin remarked with a grin, though her voice and stature were starting to evolve into stiff, army-like molds. "Have yourself a pleasant day, old friend."

"Do return as soon as possible; I want to start working on the colors for this painting," Coco remarked offhandedly. Before Nin made it completely out the door, he quickly added, "I think I'll be calling this one 'Longing,' or something of that nature.

Nin smirked at him over her shoulder. "What a horrible name. Don't patronize me so." She then turned and joined the entourage that had come to pick her up as they moved to exit the studio.

"MANY THANKS FOR THE INPUT; I'M EVER SO THRILLED YOU LIKE IT!!!" Coco called back unnecessarily loudly, a wild grin affixed to his face.

(End "Song A")

Song B" (Nin's Theme):

Nin and the entourage marched through the streets of Falroth with a quick and timely pace. The High Elf's face had hardened to match her businesslike outfit. It was devoid of anything but focus, and the resident she passed could see this clearly, even from a distance. They all looked at her with varying expressions on their face; some harbored distasted, others respect. Some even displayed nervousness and fear as she stepped mechanically past them, her hips swaying freely as she sauntered two steps ahead of the men guiding her.

Down the hall, the guild's large wooden doors could be heard opening, then shutting heavily. Faint footsteps, three sets of them marching in time with one another, could be heard approaching the board room. One set of footsteps was louder and more distinct than the other two, an almost menacing-sounding pair of heels colliding with the guilds stone floor.

Suddenly, they stopped. An eerie silence overtook the atmosphere for a moment that felt like an eternity, ending in the sudden appearance of one of the men from Nin's entourage within the board room.

(Start "Song B")

"Now announcing the arrival of the Court's Arcane Mage, M'lady Ninquië Itham."

Nin swaggered into the room simultaneously with the speaking of the final syllable in her name, not missing a single beat. Her face was still dominated by a look of intense focus and perhaps a flippant attitude, uninterested in anything but getting to the point. She sauntered up to the Court as she had been before, hips still swaying proudly in front of all within the room. She hadn't bothered to remove the makeup the Rococo had applied to her earlier; it was so scarce that her intense aura made it almost as if it wasn't even there.

Nin half-bowed, half-curtsied to the court in silence. She looked each one in the eye, displaying that she was unafraid of them and also perhaps displaying some sense of at least being on their level. Nin was smart; she could easily figure them out, and she wanted them to know it.

She then turned to eye the others in the room. Two females, one very apparently a newly-hired mercenary. Nin had yet to make the new recruits acquaintance, a formality she would only offer once to new faces. She didn't often work with the hired mercenaries, unless they were escorting her around. She didn't have time to socialize while on business.

"I see a mercenary I haven't been acquainted with yet. My name, as you heard from the guard, is Ninquië Itham. Since we work in the same setting, I request you use the prefix 'Miss' before addressing me, using either Ninquië or Itham. I don't care which you prefer, but only people I am casually and intimately acquainted with call me by name without using a prefix," Nin stated flatly, holding a hand out to shake. The conversation she had had with Coco earlier echoed in her mind briefly, causing the High Elf to gave the human mercenary a good, long look.

".....nice, but not my type," Nin concluded in her mind.

The pale Elf woman then turned to address the other newcomer. Oddly enough, this woman sported a pair of wolf ears. Nin's facial expression immediately shifted into one of concern. She had been told to expect a Ranger bearing urgent news, but she hadn't been expecting a sudden Fey. The fact that a Fey Ranger had seemingly come from some unknown place was already making Nin believe the worst was happening. She spent a few silent minutes reading the Fey woman's face with a furrowed brow, drawing a small pre-questioning profile of the visitor before beginning her work.

"Alright, I'm to assume I was called for a reason," Nin remarked in an all-business tone. She looked around the room, making eye contact with everyone again. "What is this all about? What's going on, what brought this Ranger all the way to Falroth?" she questioned, gesturing to the woman with wolf ears while looking around at the faces in the room before finally resting her eyes back on the Fey, still trying to figure her out.

(End "Song B")

The Ranger's head snapped up as a fair looking elf woman entered the room. "Court's Arcane Mage, M'lady Ninquië Itham" was how they announced her. The Ranger scoffed to herself as she overheard the the elf's conversation with the guards-woman over correct address. Though she understood the finer points of civility and proper conduct, she was often astounded at just how ridiculous they were. Anyone, even a High Elf, who demanded someone address them as "Miss" had far too high an opinion of themselves.

Eventually, the elf addressed the Ranger. At this, she stepped forward and pulled down her sleeve, revealing a tattoo upon the inside of her right forearm. The image depicted a tree, engulfed in flame yet seemingly unharmed. The tree appeared to dig its roots underneath the skin of the Ranger and was crowned by nine shining stars.

"Well met, leaders of Falroth. I am Mira Theo'lith, daughter of Tabion Greymane. I come to you as a Ranger of the Eiarthden. I will not waste your time, as we have none to waste."

Mira took the sack from overs her shoulder and unceremoniously dumped its contents upon her end of the long table. A head dropped onto the wood with a dull thud and rolled over until it's face stared out towards the men gathered there, it's tongue lolling out of its mouth. A heavy silence fell over the room.

"This Ranger comes to Falroth," she continued, "because it seems Falroth cannot be bothered to patrol its own borders. This is just one of the band that I followed into your lands. I came upon their trail while traveling through Beorem and tracked them until they crossed your borders. This was after two nights. Upon the third night, I came to their camp and interrogated them, seven in total. All refused to speak. All shared the fate of this wretch.

"But, I would not seek you so urgently had this been this only a trifling matter. Let me show you what troubles me."

She reached over to the head and grabbed ahold of the tongue. Unsheathing a small knife with her other hand, she quickly sliced the tongue clean and held it up. Etched into the bottom was a black spot.

"These men bear the mark of Helris Spies. That they had the gall to enter your lands tells me that Helris they are no longer content to let this tension between your two powers go to waste. I believe that, even as we speak, they are consolidating their forces to march against you."

At this, the room exploded with chatter. Some said it was foolish. Others claimed they had known it all along. Many questioned the words of the Ranger herself.

One man, Greron son of Hanlath, a wealthy salt merchant, stood and shouted, "Are you suggesting we go to war? Would you have us risk the lives of our people." The rest of the men echoed him.

The Fey simply looked at them and said, "That is not for me to decide. I simply bear these tidings. Whatever course you decide for your people is your decision alone."

The men almost collectively groaned, as if they were hoping the neutral party would free them from the burden of choice. Then another had an idea and turned toward the Court Mage.

"And what does our most renowned Court Mage think of these events?"

Mira secretly rolled her eyes and scowled. She did not favor the leaders of Falroth. They were more businessmen than leaders, always fearful of risk, weighing and measuring their options until the last moment, when the time for action has nearly passed them by. Presented with this problem, it was no surprise to Mira that they had tried to pass the load off their own shoulders.

Song A:

Nin's thin face looked generally unimpressed as the Ranger told the first part of her story, although it was obvious that the High Elf was listening, regardless of whether it was interesting to her or not. The exasperated grimace that spread across her face at the mention of Falroth's lacking border patrol made this very clear. An ivory hand slipped up to an ivory temple, beginning to rub the temple flesh in tight, aggravated circles. How many times had she gone through this now? How many times had she advised the court to hire a better watch? How many times had the request been skimmed over in favor of a beefier profit?!

Nin was seriously questioning why she had even considered working in Falroth's court. Honestly, she was. What had even inspired her to come to such a place? It certainly hadn't been the money. There were so many other courts she could have left for by now... Hell, she could be advising a pile of ROCKS and that pile of rocks would be more productive than these uppity, stingy excuses for city-state leaders.

Nin inhaled a short, quiet gasp of air. Her thought's were getting too far off track; that was something that would be dealt with at a later date. Right now, there was a severed head with a disturbing marking on it's tongue resting on the table in front of Nin. Her eyes grew wide and her lips flattened into a grave line. Nin had predicted that Helris would eventually mobilize for violence, but she hadn't been expecting it to be happening this quickly. Suddenly, the lack of border patrol was less of an annoyance and more of a huge problem.

The court's reaction didn't necessarily surprise Nin, but it definitely did serve to infuriate her further as well as worsen her already overbearing stress. Nin's mind was a cloud of frenzied thoughts. She tried desperately to piece together the best possible plan of action as quickly as she possibly could; a nervous and aggravated knot rising in her chest. She drowned the court's prattle out with her own thoughts, mostly in order to preserve her mental well-being.

The court turned to Nin. They always did. They always looked to her in times of distress for magical answers; for pretty intelligence and hollow advisement that would do nothing but buy them more time to lounge around on their laurels and wait for the world to come flying into their palms. Nin's scowl deepened as her stress level intensified. She just wasn't going to have this anymore. In that moment, Nin's final piece of straw snapped clean in half and she launched herself into productivity mode. The dainty High Elf looked intimidating than ever as she glared about the room with her stony yet cross face. She inhaled deeply through her nose and opened her mouth in preparation to speak.

(Start "Song A")

"My thoughts?" Nin questioned in a very serious tone. She smacked her fragile-looking right hand down onto the table forcefully and leaned her weight onto it, hunching herself over into a very intimidating pose. Her left hand drew back and rested firmly on her hip. "Something needs to be done about this. Now. No more waiting for a vote that will never pass, no more arguing endlessly in completely pointless circles. The Ranger makes a very sound point; we have to believe that we've not a SINGLE moment to waste because we DON'T," she explained, her voice steeped in a strange mix of irritation, fervor, and passion. She barely paying attention to the Ranger and the Mercenary now; she was far too busy vocalizing her plan of action. "We don't just need a border patrol anymore, now that we've waited all this time. We need an airtight perimeter around our borders, and we needed it yesterday. Get it by sundown. We shouldn't have to rely on chance wanderers to tell us what's going on around our home. Send word out, find the best guards we can get within our area. I know we have the funds to cover that at the VERY least," she growled, glaring at the treasurer as if she was just daring him to oppose her. Begging him to step on her toes so that she could throw more cold, hard facts into his face.

Once she felt she had sufficiently stared the money-grubbing money handler down, Nin re-directed her focus back to the entire court. "The next thing we need to do is get the city alerted, at least until we have more details. The people NEED to know this. If Helris were to sack us now, we would all be dead. Nobody would be prepared; Falroth would fall to turmoil faster than it would to our possible adversaries." Nin made sure she made eye contact with each and every council member present so to convey the true gravity behind her words. Never had Nin meant more business in her entire life.

"These are just the first things that need to be done. They need to get done TODAY, mind you." Nin stressed, her voice and attitude cold as ice. She had somehow managed to keep a serious composure throughout this entire spiel, without going too overboard and, miraculously, without tearing anybody's head off. "After those things get taken care of, I'm going to arrange and lead a small "diplomatic survey" posse to advocate on behalf of Falroth. I will take a small group out to investigate this Ranger's claims, smoke out any other spy groups who might be in places where they shouldn't be, and attempt to negotiate peace if need be. I'll need a navigator and muscle, at the very least, as well as traveling supplies. Naturally, those involved will be compensated for their efforts, be it your money or Itham money. How it happens doesn't matter, it just needs to happen. If you wish to continue living the lives you are living currently, gentlemen, you will consider my words carefully. Falroth's safety and independence are both hanging from a very thin rope, and if it cannot stand then it might as well fall."

With these last words, Nin broke her intimidating posture and straightened her back into stiff attention. She removed her throbbing hand from the table, but she did not address it. The stinging meant nothing to her, just another irrelevant sensation. Nin was done preaching to the choir. She directed her attention to the messenger Ranger, her hot infuriation now sufficiently cooled.

(End "Song A")

Nin walked over to the wolf-eared woman stiffly, even awkwardly so. The High Elf really had to work to force herself back into the strict, expressionless façade she constantly hid behind after being so emotionally shaken, and she found that it never quite worked right for the first couple of minutes while she was getting back into it. "Thank you for going out of your way to bring this to our attention," Nin remarked stiffly, clearly not entirely sure how much of her actual genuine emotion she wanted to include in her tone. She fished around in a hidden pocket within her dress, producing a bag with a considerable sum of money in it. She tossed the bag to the Ranger while adding, "Please take this as a genuine thanks and apology." Nin started to turn away, but she doubled back upon realizing she had something else to ask. ".....also, while I do hate to be further burden to you, could you perhaps lead me to the encampment you invaded? I understand if you have other matters to attend to, but I'd like to raid the camp for coded information before reinforcements come and burn the place."

Mira had watched all this in silence with her arms folded over one another. She had been impressed by the elf's decisive action. It was surprising. She had not expected such fire from the supposedly prim and proper woman. The her words made good sense. The men would do well to listen. It was very interesting. Very interesting indeed.

As the men at the table whispered among themselves, the Ranger took the money as it was offered. She was not above being paid for services. When the elf asked her if she would be of further service, Mira did not hesitate to answer.

"I would gladly be of help. If horses were provided, we could make to the camp by sunset. We could wait until the morning and you would have good light to examine the scene. That is, if you are comfortable with riding and resting outdoors."

Just then, one of the more elder council members, a fat man with more gray hair upon his beard than on his head, stood and addressed the elf. "We have carefully considered your words and have come to the decision that it would indeed be prudent for you to go out and investigate these matters yourself. We all would wish to have more reliable word than what we can expect from a woman of the woods.

"Also, we have elected to send head guardswoman Calaun Waer with you as "muscle". The rest of this we will continue to discuss until a time where we may more confidently make a decision. You are all free to go."

He sat back down and the men began to talk again, as if they had forgotten the others were in the room with them at all.

"Well, if that's the case," Mira added, "then we had best make that three horses."

Calaun stood by in silence as events took place. She showed not in her countenance what she was thinking of the events of this day. Privately, she really didn't care either way what happened between Falroth and Helris; Beorem was and always would be her home and all that concerned her when it came to war. As a hired mercenary, were Helris to offer her more money then Falroth, she'd easily switch sides without a twitch in her conscious -not that it would happen. Helris would never hire a woman as a mercenary, regardless of her prowess, simply because they were hugely sexist and had very 'proper' ideas about where a woman's place was.

When the 'Court Mage' spoke up in return to the Council's questioning looks, Calaun couldn't help but be impressed by the way Ninquië -no 'Miss Ninquië' handled herself with confidence. When the mage had first introduced herself, Calaun had inwardly rolled her eyes with disdain. As a working-class woman, and indeed a strong-willed, independent woman, Calaun had little respect for the higher-class women, and especially women who did not work, or if they did, used their sexuality to their advantage, as to Calaun, this was the ultimate disrespect to a woman -to view them as nothing more than a sexual object. But while the mage had first seemed like no more than another pretty head for the Council to leer at, apparently there was more to this 'Miss Ninquië' than first glance would suggest.

Calaun looked over at the Council as her name was mentioned, nodding silently to their order that she go with the Ranger and the Mage to protect them; though privately she thought the Ranger could most likely take care of herself.

"I will do my best to protect you, Miss Ninquië, and Miss ... Mira?" Calaun said softly, glancing questioningly at the Ranger, not wanting to offend the woman by using her name familiarly, but unsure of what else to address the woman as.

The Ranger smiled broadly at the guardswoman's use of "Miss". She was not used to hearing something so polite before her name.

"Mira will do. Well met."

She turned towards the elf again.

"I'm assuming you will some time need to gather your things. Calaun and I could await you at the South Gate if you need some time."

Calun dipped her head to the Ranger courteously. "Well met, Miss Mira."

She nodded at the Ranger's next words. "I have my own gear ready. If you'd like, Miss Mira, the Guardsroom has plenty extra weapons, if you need to restock. There's plenty of extra arrows and several daggers left unclaimed, if you'd like," she offered the Ranger, figuring that if the three of them were going on a dangerous journey, the woman would prefer, like her, to be ready for anything that could cross their paths.

Mira was slightly irked that she had decided to use "Miss" regardless, but decided it best to just leave it. She nodded at the guard's suggestion.

"Thank you, but I won't be needing anything more, and I'm hoping the both of you won't as well. The trip should be more time consuming than anything. I would be quite surprised if we came in harms way."

She reconsidered what she had just said.

"Still, if you want to arm yourselves a little more, I will not stop you."

A stout figure clad in black armor trudged through the rolling hills. The heat of the sun beat down on him, though he appeared unaffected by such heat, especially within such dark armor. He had been traveling for quite a while now, and would find himself many a mile away from his home within the Grey Wall. It had been nearly a decade since he last saw the mountains he called home, yet the memory was still fresh in his mind. Ah the memories, he believed he'd soon return to them, having traveled around this open land for a great time, and having found little answers to his questions in life.

Alas, he could not have picked a worse time to think about heading back, for what lay over the next hilltop would delay him in ways he could not have predicted. The figure climbed over the hill, only to find himself looking down at a bloodied camp. The place had the stench of death all around it and the coyotes of the area were busy feasting themselves on the bodies below.

The figure took his helm off, his head shining like a polished coin as he stared down. "Great Rorngen, what happened to here?" the dwarf asked himself. The dwarf began to make his way down the hill, barely able to keep his small body from tumbling over as he shouted and barked at the coyotes. "Go on you beasts! Get, get!" he called out, waving his arms at the coyotes as he approached. Scared off by the dwarf, the beasts ran, biding their time to return to their meal.

The dwarf, once he was safely on level ground, looked around at the camp. The bodies were torn to bits by the ravaging animals, the only thing not destroyed being the tents. Simple animals couldn't have killed men clad in armor such as this, the dwarf thought. Especially with the weapons they carried. Could they have been attacked by a pack of thieves? But then... Why were the tents intact? Why were no valuables pilfered? There wasn't even a sign of a scuffle, like Death came and took the men's souls with him without so much as raising a finger.

It was then that the dwarf came upon a particular body, one who's head had been cut clean off. Whoever had done this was much more brutal than the dwarf first thought. The dwarf wasn't liking this one bit. However, he could not leave the bodies as such. The dwarf went to work digging up a long grave at the center of the camp. Taking each of the bodies, the dwarf made a prayer before writing an inscription upon the body's chest from the owner's blood before rubbing a line of blood down his forehead for each one of the dead men, as per his clan's custom. The sun was beginning to set behind him, and the coyotes that were so easily scared off during the day were becoming bolder as the light disappeared over the horizon. The dwarf buried the bodies and stood over the makeshift grave, placing his helm back on. "As per tradition of the Kolkarak Throng, I shall not let you disturb their eternal slumber anymore, beasts. As such, any attempt you make to continue feasting on them shall be met with your death."

He then unsheathed his axe, holding it up before letting loose a bellowing battle cry. With that, the coyotes began to charge at him.

After being dismissed from the court room, Nin found herself in a strange mood. She felt triumphant that things were finally getting done, but at the same time... she could clearly see that the trend was continuing. She gracefully carried herself back into the hallway, deep in unbemused thought. It was clear that they were going to do the minimum to get by. Again. They were only trying to get her out of their hair so that they could return to their money-grubbing ways. She huffed unhappily. It was obvious to her that nothing was really changing. Would she be able to handle this on her own? It was looking like she was going to have to, regardless of whether she could or not. Nin sighed and rubbed her forehead.

Nin turned to the other ladies before exiting the building. "Well... it looks like we're going to need to gather our things, as well as scrounge up some supplies." She mused. I need to grab my things from elsewhere in town. If you feel like you're already properly prepared, you can come with me if you so wish. The stables are around back; we should all retrieve a horse from there before we depart." She brushed her sideswept bangs out of her eyes, obviously still peeved with the result of the earlier meeting.

The elf had been quiet for a moment, as they exited the hall. She seemed troubled, which was fair. Dealing with merchants and politicians often left Mira's stomach uneasy as well. She couldn't imagine being what seemed to be a glorified babysitter to them.

"I shall follow your lead. I am already well prepared for the journey. Give me a moment to bring the horses around and I'll meet you."

With that she went to gather the riding gear and saddle two horses. The first was grey and speckled white with black cuffs around her hooves. A blaze shone upon her muzzle. The other was a brown and white pinto with a blonde mane and white star upon his forehead. The stable boy told her their names. The pinto's name was Alōs.

She led the two horses around the building and presented the reins of the grey horse to the elf.

"Her name is Ilweyn. She is a good beast. Do you know how to handle a horse?"

Nin was a little surprised when the Ranger offered to retrieve the horses from the stable, as she normally used to guests who expected to be treated like guests. Snobs who wanted to be waited on hand and foot while they toured around the city for no real good purpose. Nin was nothing in not educated in manners, however, and even if she hated herself for it she always felt it necessary to treat guests with respect and courtesy. However, the Ranger had already returned with the horses before Nin even had a chance to object.

"Urm- I mean, yes; I've ridden horses multiple times since I was small," Nin replied quickly, still caught a little off guard. The High Elf shook off her surprise just in time to catch the horse's name. She accepted the reins from the Ranger and repeated it quietly, giving it's neck a light pet. Nin had always liked horses; they made for much better company than uppity socialites. Lightly, Nin swung herself up onto the beast's back in one fluid motion, letting muscle memory guide her actions. Despite the way she was dressed, she refused to ride side saddle, straddling the beast with her legs as she assumed the traditional riding pose.

"I guess that's two thing I need to thank you for," Nin mused turning to the Ranger. We're not going far, my friend is holding my things in his nearby studio for safekeeping," she remarked. She gave the horse a light tap with the smooth backs of her shoes, spurring it into motion. She began guiding it towards the street, peeking back to see if the Ranger had followed suit.

Mira was slightly impressed with the elf. She had not expected someone in such fine clothing to be at all versed in riding. This gave her hope that this trip would not simply have her being a wet nurse to some haughty noble.

As she minted the pinto and spurred it forward, she could quickly got a feel for the horse. He was young and strong. His steps were sure and he was attentive. He smelled healthy. She caught no scent of disease on him. A good animal, if she had ever seen one.

Come to the left of the elf and matching her pace. She looked over and said, "When we reach this 'studio' you will need to be quick. We have wasted enough daylight as it is."