With a deep breath, Elhadron nodded solemnly to Jord. The dwarf's tone disturbed him deeply, as Elhadron still had difficulty dealing with people who were so eager to kill their fellow sentient beings. With his hands driven deep into his pockets, Elhadron noted that people like him didn't really belong in wars. He had doubted himself since deciding to volunteer, and didn't foresee any end to it. Not anytime soon at least.

Elhadron watched Kyne greet their patron on bended knee. This noble was a friend of their leader at least. Turin's guards were dispersing themselves through the woods, and he followed their passage with his eyes. Some stayed close, and for that he was grateful.

Unfortunately it also meant it would be slightly more difficult for him to tell enemy from friend. Humanoid forms all looked somewhat similar at this distance, particularly when all were strangers anyway. Even his new allies were little more than a faceless crowd, and not always a friendly one.

Would he be ready to kill to protect these people? Did he owe them that? After what they'd said to him... after spitting at his feet... did they really believe in anything they were fighting for? His jaw tightened and his chin lifted proudly. It didn't matter how they felt. He cared, and that's all that mattered. Things could be better. He'd seen the worst this culture had to offer, and if he didn't deserve it, no one did.

This Turin... he seemed genuine. If he had wanted to betray them, he would have taken an opportunity to lead them. At least, Elhadron assumed as much. What support was he willing to offer? Resources, weapons, manpower, what?

Certainly he wouldn't fight, would he? Elhadron had seen few nobles who were willing to ride out and fight their own battles, and they had been among the drow.

It wasn't an encouraging comparison.

"This is really... going to be messy, isn't it..." he murmured to no one in particular.

Elhadron took a deep breath. What she said was true enough, and it didn't surprise him that her only experiences with drow had been as their enemy. His eyes dropped from the treetops momentarily and he listened as she spoke again.

"Sometimes, we'd come across the odd drow scout or worse, like that time we came across a few stragglers."

Stragglers. "Heh," he said. "I've been a 'straggler' many times." Still facing forward, he turned his eyes to Arayala with a sad little half-smile. "I suppose I'm not a typical drow. They aren't really my people, though I was held by them for a while." He nodded to himself. "A long while, felt like. But maybe it wasn't."

He turned his gaze back outward. "They were no kin of mine, though I suppose..." His smile faded as he remembered the children he must surely have left behind to be raised by the Zau'anien household. "...though I suppose by now some of them are. Not that they'll likely ever know it."

Elhadron took a quick, deep breath and brought his smile back as best he could. "How about you, Ara? How did you end up in Khur, in tunnels, with hostile drow?"

Stormchaser had given his rousing speech and the show of support by the elven lord seemed to be successful in gathering some form of confidence from those who had bothered to heed the call of the rebellion. Up till then, they had shown no signs of a plan of any sort. Now, they were talking about taking concrete steps to achieve concrete goals. Finally... she thought, glad to see the beginnings of something that might actually work.

She had taken note of the names: Kyne Stormchaser, Jord Blackhammer, Esca Moon, Lord Turin and the drow, who up to this point, still remained without a name. No notes, she decided. It was too risky. It was best she committed everything to memory.

"How about you, Ara? How did you end up in Khur, in tunnels, with hostile drow?"

Ara shrugged. "My family was in the gem mining business," she repeated herself. "My father was one of the rare few who dared venture into the 'neutral zone' between dwarven and drow territory. A few tunnels there were fair game and rich in precious stones - emeralds, rubies, diamonds.... sometimes, Mithril ore. Being smart, they thought it was an advantage if I was brought along. Even though I don't have heat vision, I can still hear almost as well as drow and I am much stronger. I acted as a bodyguard. We had a good thing going. I know the drow hate everyone but they seemed to hate me more than they do dwarves. I always aggravate them on sight, long enough for my friends to get the better of them."

She settled her back against the tree, adjusting her spine so she rested with less pressure on her muscles.

"I was adopted," Ara revealed. "I was born here. My biological parents were merchants and they travelled to Khur very often. I spent most of my time on the road travelling back and forth. My father was training me to be an accountant." She gave a little smile at the notion before returning to her normal expression. "Anyway, we liked to play in the tunnels with some of the dwarven kids, who were the only kids I knew. There was an accident... and no magic healer was around. Hard to get those in Khalar, let alone Khur. So... I stayed there, with my father's business partners. Eventually, they adopted me. I was too uncomfortable for most of polite Taure society to tolerate."

She glanced over at the drow and dwarf. "So what are your stories? I mean... while they're out there getting some issues ironed out, we're here playing sentry... and it'll be good if I can have your name. I'd hate to keep rudely referring to you as 'drow'."

She looked at the outstretched palm with one raised eyebrow, unsure to take Elhadron's hand for two reasons. First, Ara feared breaking it and second, it was rare that she had to shake more than one hand within a week. What the hell, right?, she decided and accepted the handshake in a firm, gentle grasp.

"Arayala Silverhands," she replied, giving her full name by way of explaining. Her grip was cold, she knew, the chilling sensation moderated only by the leather gloves. It couldn't be helped. The cool night air left little heat for her arms to conduct. She tried her best to be as delicate as she could and folded her arms after the greeting was completed. She looked to Elhadron, her own voice now silent, feeling that it had spoken too much for its personal liking.

Ara listened as she always did when people were talking. Her stony-faced elven father, whom at that time, was intent on teaching her manners that would make her a desirable wife, had groomed her that way. Thorgren didn’t always influence her. Underneath the reticent and distant exterior, behind the plain way she spoke, Ara was a tender soul and had taken to heart some of the elven teachings she had seen her brother exemplify. Showing due respect had been one of them.

Upon hearing Elhadron’s story, she empathised with his familiar childhood although, she couldn’t help but be glad he wasn’t raised by his insane blood relations. His voice was soft and filled with subtle poignant overtones that she felt contained more than just a grain of truth. She wasn’t sure if she trusted him, let alone cared. After all, the drow were known to be bloody good liars. If he was untruthful, he was doing a fantastic job at keeping up the charade.

If he was indeed telling the truth, then her heart, underneath its armour, went out to him as far as it could go for a person in her position. He was still a rebel and she, an agent of the crown.

“Elhadron,” she replied before the silence settled for too long between the three of them. “It’s definitely much nicer than the other one.” At that point, Ara discovered a surprising fact – Elhadron possessed a quality which she liked. He had a comfortable sort of ease in the way he spoke; something she never quite got the hang of.

The group was now discussing who was to fill which key positions. Ara cringed inwardly. These sort of things should have been settled a long time ago by Stormchaser and those that he trusted. It was almost too good to be true that she was now a witness to these proceedings. Stormchaser was now officially the leader, by popular vote or default since no one else wanted to the job or Turin had given his blessing; Ara didn’t know.

A half-elf entered the group. Yet another noble, she noted, by the way he moved and spoke to the men to let him pass. She couldn’t hear what he was saying but it was in the way he carried himself – the same rigidity of the spine that she had seen in both Turin and her trainer.

Albeit, she noted, her teacher gave the impression that his personal space and ego extended meters beyond his mortal frame. Even looking at him gave most people the impression that they were interrupting some very important line of thought and the instinct to immediately ask his pardon rose almost instantaneously. These men were much more... approachable to the common man.

She divided her attention between the group’s main discussion and the company she currently held. If they had met under different circumstances, she was sure that she would have asked Elhadron to continue speaking but right now, things were saturated with a sense of foreboding that was beginning to bother her.

The proceedings were too smooth for a group this size. Gathodel had to know and that the possibility of an attack on them was more than just probable. Still, there was no sign and her ad hoc scout had not seen anything that could cause them to raise the alarm. Keeping herself calm and forcing her stomach to settle and her heart to slow by monitoring her breath, Ara kept her apathetic and unconcerned persona.

Yet, her instincts were telling her that this was all wrong.

As Kyne began his rousing speech, Turin stepped into the crowd symbolizing his equality with everyone there; he was no more than a follower in this rebellion.  He listened to Kyne and as he was speaking he realized that he had selected the perfect leader for this mission.  He would lead Elentári into a new age of peace and Turin would be there every step of the way offering what he could to the cause.  In the corner of his eye, Turin caught a glimpse of a familiar face.  It was Lord Elrian.  He turned to greet him.

“Lord Elrian!  What a pleasant surprise to see you here.  Of all people I’m glad you are making an appearance to show your support, especially after your eventful encounter with Gathodel a few days ago.  It’s good to see you got out safe, but something must be done to free our fellow woodelves from the prisons of that monster.”

Lord Turin looked up to hear Kyne speak of the Royal Guard.  This was something that Turin felt it was appropriate for him to speak up about.  “Fear not of the Royal Guard, they will not fight in a war, especially one in which they are fighting the people they swore to protect.  General An’nayne would die before he would support Gathodel in his evil machinations.  Although, I think it would be wise to do something about the woodelves that Gathodel imprisoned.  Perhaps that would be a good way to let other elves know of our intentions and presence and allow us to rally even more followers.”  Turin looked around from face to face.  “I would be willing to provide genuine disguises and official royal dire wolves for any of you to be willing to assist in a prison break.”

To know where you are going, return to where you’ve come from. Aion mused as he leisurely made his way along the path of trees in search of this ‘rebellion’ he’d been hearing about. Of course he wasn’t traveling there for the reasons others possessed. No, Elentari was hardly a home to him and spilling the blood of other elves was a proposition that he’d found revolting. There is no elegance in killing your own kind. Elves should have learned this long ago… Perhaps we and the humans aren’t so different after all?

He watched as the vibrant green leaves cascaded by him to glitter in what moonlight made its way through the dense canopy of Elentari’s sacred forests. It was unfortunate these lands would flow with the blood of elves slain upon elvin blades. Lady Livana would surely weep within the afterlife in reverence to the fallen on both sides, but the sorrow of spirits would mean little to the hatred flowing between both sides. Elentari would become a land of chaos all because a few elves possessed short sited views about the purity of the elvin race. Of course the rebels were no better as they had clearly not thought things through this night; allowing their heated outrage to eclipse sensibility and cold hard reason.

That’s the ‘lesser species’ for you. Always so eager to march towards war to prove their point. A disembodied voice laughed in smug superiority and Aion knew he’d have little peace within the sanctity of his own mind this night…and likely any other night in the near future. I mean wouldn’t it have been far wiser to simply kill the king through the subtle methods of poisoning, assassination by proxy, or at the very least something better than assembling a meeting out in the middle of a forest easily reached by anyone? Whoever is leading this is a poor tactician at best. Why I would have… Arya lectured and Aion did his best to block her out as the sound of many voices declaring and planning events of the future reached his ears. He couldn't make out what they were saying, but the faint echoes of their emotionally charged discussions served as a beacon.

I agree Arya, if only because they chose a location that would normally be quite quiet and then decide to speak so freely without thinking. Of course that begs the question of who is more foolish; the rebels for being poorly organized, or the royals for allowing such a gathering to go so far without sending an assassin, full military strike team, or sneaking men into this meeting? Can you imagine how scary it would be if suddenly a third of what the rebels thought were allies turned on them? It'd be what I'd do. Aion questioned and the voice of vanity that was Arya didn’t bother to respond. He decided her silence was for the best as three silhouettes of various sizes slid into his visual range, his pupils adjusting to the lack of light as he neared the location of the orchard.

Skulking amongst the shadows with his cloak drawn tightly around him, the warped highborn wisely followed the advice his ‘worse half’ had given him upon crossing the boarder into Elentari. With his new drow like appearance chances were he’d be impaled and put on display outside some town if most had their say, or at least that was what he imagined until one of the lean willowy forms ahead turned out to be that of a drow…or an elf that’d spent a little too much time in the sun. Chuckling inside the confines of his mind, he decided that openly approaching the sentries was relatively safe as long as they didn’t inquire into what lay beneath the cowl of his black cloak. He could get into the meeting, learn information, and then leave. That’s what he wanted and nothing more.

Allowing his scrawny feet to fall upon the twigs to signal his arrival, the heavily robed Aion waved at the sentries that he identified to be a dwarf, drow, and…wood elf with cultural issues. “Rebels in more ways than one” was one phrase that came to mind given the apparent diversity of this rebellion. It meant that at least wood elves weren’t as close minded as he’d thought they’d be, or they were desperate. It’d be interesting to find out which was true.

Silently standing out for them to see, he slowly laid his hands on a small gourd of ink he’d purchased upon leaving the Waste. Mute, he’d found that facilitating communication without the help of Ayra’s telepathy to be frustrating at best, until he’d found a new trick to make things easier. Tearing the gourd from his belt, he tossed its contents towards the trio standing guard and the scarlet colored substance halted in mid air as thin tendrils of dark energy began to twist the ink into an array of calligraphic script. He had to concentrate and imagine his words carefully, but gradually what errors existing within his work of flowing art turned into near perfect writing. Well...perfect enough.   


He’d have asked “is this where the rebels are meeting, but Ayra would have never allowed him a second of piece if he resorted to such a straight forward way of inquiring into sensitive information. Then again, this entire gathering felt wrong in his opinion. He’d most definitely keep this fresh in his mind as an example of how not to organize a large force, but for now his piercing yellow eyes turned towards the sentries to await their answer. He'd doubt it would be "come this way, welcome to the rebellion", but if it was he'd really regret not being able to laugh.

OOC: Not joining the rebellion so much as Just being curious.