Ezra

[Gaerielle]

Account: Gaerielle
Character name: Ezra
Note: I took too long to finalize it, I'm already lvl 3 but it would be a waste not to post it now

Tilverton's wild flower

On the silent Moonsea Ride leading back northeast was walking an elf, his mood as dark as the forest surrounding him. It was black to him, and he doubted it was only an impression. Yes, he had been wrong to come here despite the warnings. He had been looking for hope and had only found the darkness that had been described to him, deep and pressuring, miles away from the nearest shining point he had been searching in vain. No, there was really nothing left to hope for Tilverton. The place was doomed indeed, he had been foolish to think otherwise. And the sooner he would be far from it, the better.
The woods were silent indeed, until it happened. A piece of dead wood on the path, a fallen branch, is all it takes for Tymora to change one's life forever. But it wouldn't be his.
The sudden, dry cracking sound raises as his foot falls on the branch, contrasting with the heavy silence weighting on the forest. It seems to resound briefly, and the elf's ears twitch at it. To his right - it could have fooled many, but not his trained senses. This hadn't been the echo of cracking wood, but the noise of moving leaves. He lets his accurate eyes wander around the dark bushes, the pale moonlight barely reflecting on the agonising vegetation. Another shadow escaping the cursed city ? He wouldn't have thought they would have ventured this far, but being cautious was not something he was reluctant with. His hand was already on the hilt of his rapier when his heart shattered, his eyes catching something. A flower, raising weakly towards the stars, but a flower nonetheless, a thing of beauty despite its colourless petals, fighting to survive. After a surprised blink and a hint of light filling his mood, the elf slowly moves towards it. And stops again, finally catching sight of what had made the noise before.
But it was no shadow. It was a young girl.
He stares at her, confused, not daring to make a move. She was croutching protectively, both her hands on the dry ground covered with black leaves, poorly hiding between the bushes. Her eyes were narrowed and suspiscious, which was understandable. He wouldn't give her more than twelve years of age, and yet she was on her own here, her skinny appearance and the rags she was wearing testifying of her tough survival.

• Hello ? said the elf slowly, articulating much and giving his voice the softest tone possible. I am Elrathall.
  A pause. Nothing. Silence and staring.
• Do you understand common ?
  He carefully extends a hand in her direction, and realises how big a mistake this had been only half a second too late. His eyes widen on the the girl as she growls and hisses. A big mistake indeed. The eyes hadn't been narrowed with suspiscion or fear. This had been a predator's glare.
  The girl leaps litteraly at the elf's throat, her pale figure moving swiftly under the moonlight, but the elf had good reflexes, and his own body moves faster than it takes him to think of a proper reaction, grabbing the short and frail body and using her own speed to throw her back in the direction she came from. Another growl as she falls on her back and instantly rolls into a low crouching position again, looking like a hunting feline. He grabs the hilt of his thin blade again, carefully watching her pant, the pale beams of the full moon revealing her features more clearly. Her eyes were piercing and partly hidden by long raven hair.
  She hisses threateningly while he studies her, and moves back a bit, protectively. Her thin body can't hide the flower behind her though, and a flash of understanding strikes him, making a tender smile slowly appear on his lips again.
• I will not harm your flower.
  Her expression doesn't change. Maybe she couldn't understand him indeed. He carefully repeats the sentence in elven, with no better result, and sighs slightly.
  The time seems to stop its course while they remain there, facing each other, as if the whole forest was watching them, and the elf himself can't evaluate how slowly things unfold. He sits carefully, watching her with a quiet smile. He talks to her, slowly, calmly. She doesn't move, her young eyes never leaving him. And he sings softly. Finally letting his warm voice getting to her, she sits like a cat, her frown fading progressively into a curious expression, her head slightly tilted. He finishes his song and cautiously moves closer, pausing each time she lowers her stance and narrows her eyes, taking his time to approach her like he would with a wild animal. An eternity afterwards, he reaches out to pass his hand gently on her cheek, and his reflexes betray him this time. Whether or not she had long been planning her move, he feels pain from the cut on his cheek before he can step away from her clawing hand.
  He freezes again, collecting himself quickly and holding his weapon tight, ready for anything at this point. A slight frown accompanies a twitch from her eyes as she stares at him, and her gaze shifts for less than a heartbeat onto a neatly cleaned cut on her own arm. He hesitates and returns her intigued look, his free hand moving to the cut on his cheek. Void of colours under the dead moon as if struck by the same malediction as the vegetation around him, his blood tints his fingers and darkens them. Doubting his own thoughts, he stands more straight, eyeing her with cautious concern.
• Yes, I bleed like you.
  She watches with strange curiousity, and moves closer to him herself, staying on four legs. In this place beyond the paths where reason likes to dwell, he lets her set her suspiscious eyes on a line of blood that isn't hers, keeping his guard up while she finally stands slowly. She sets her hands on his arm, her sharp nails digging into his flesh, and before his thought are freed from the pain she has licked his bleeding wound. He pushes her back instinctively, and she falls with another hiss. The disturbing game of stares and lack of understanding makes the scene motionless again. A vampire ? She couldn't be, he had felt her warmth while she was close to him.
  Searching for a sign that would confirm his thoughts, his gaze wanders briefly on her shape, and stops on the cut he had noticed before. His thoughts race trying to put words on the strange feeling bothering him. How had she cleaned it ? Most plants here were poisonous rather than medicinal.
  She wasn't moving anymore when he understood and sat down again. Passing another finger on his cheek had confirmed that it wasn't bleeding anymore, and that his mind was slower than his reactions.
• Forgive me. I thank you.
  He spoke the words softly again, smiling kindly, and the slow dance that was bringing them together took its course back.

@42c6260edd:

"Dear Elrathall,

It has been some time since you last honoured us with your presence. I do hope that life has been treating you fairly, and that these few written words will find you safe and peaceful.

As you can easily guess, my own existence hasn't turned from its moderately quiet course, and the orphanage sees me well, despite the occasional but usual worries it provides me. I assumed though that you would have wished to hear of the girl.

She is well, I can assure you. To quote your own words, she is quite the lively thing. Although I would have slapped myself only a few years ago after hearing me use this word to mention one of my protected ones, I have no choice but to write the term defining it the best: I had a hard time domesticating her. She needs constant occupation, or find herself something to keep her busy, rarely for the best sadly. She is to me, the living allegory of a turbulent child, as it was easily expectable from one who grew up by herself. Fortunately for me and the house's furnitures, things got better as soon as I managed to teach her how to read. She is a curious one, and is obviously willing to catch up with the time she has spent on her own in the wild. I found myself constantly refilling the library with new books to keep her in it; as long as she reads she doesn't break anything.

Her childhood near Tilverton made her wild and bitter, there is no doubt nor surprise about it. She is not used to people caring about her. She had no faith, and teaching her of the Gods only achieved having her pester about the fate they had given her. However, she has calmed a bit since I told her that her beauty was a gift from Sune. That gave her one of them to look up to at least, even though I would have prefered to give her a better one to praise. I also feel a bit shameful about using her lack of intuition to convince her that this was the truth, but who knows, maybe it was not even a lie. And her general mood took benefit from it, even if she remains impulsive and unpredictable.

I researched her bloodline as you suggested, but couldn't find any sign of the kind of legacy you feared. I managed to keep her calm long enough for a passing scholar to examine her, and he confirmed finding no tainted blood. I did however keep a secret the location where she was found, for the people here are very superstitious regarding it - with good reasons. I share your wish to give her a second chance in life, like I do for each of the others here. She will need to overcome the instincts she has developped, but rest assured that I will help her the best I can.

She keeps asking about you. I believe she sees you more than me as her father. Please visit us from time to time if you can, if only for her. She needs affection.

Your friend and indebted,
Ghent"

Jenny had her fists closed tight, and was about to use them, but she simply spat at the other's astonished face. She wasn't fearing her like she had been in the early days, when the creature had been brought into the orphanage. Father Ghent had spent most of his time with her since that day, leaving them on their own, abandonned. And now… how had she dared ? She was the stranger here. Stranger to the orphanage, stranger to the city of Ashabenford, probably even stranger to this Plane. She had known that ever since they she heard about tieflings from this nice guard. Suddenly the behaviour of the girl had made sense to her, and quickly she had spread the word to the others. They had been avoiding her even more ever since, so the only explanation to what she had just witnessed was, the creature had bewitched him. Fredrick was Jenny's boyfriend, she had been working hard to get him. How could she have stolen it from her ? She was a thief, she had this in her veins. She was a nasty evil thing.

• You're not welcome here. Nobody wants you around.
  The teenager puts as much disdain in her voice as in her expression, glaring disgustedly at the fiend. This was so easy, more than she had thought. And the other looked almost about to cry. A pathetic evil thing, that was what she was. Maybe this had been father Ghent's plans in the first place, to break the creature and make her lose every will to fight. But she should get her pathetic self elsewhere now.
  But the other's eyes didn't get wet. After a few seconds they narrowed, and her right palm suddenly caught fire like a torch.

@42c6260edd:

Formal request from Fentin Dawlec, ref B126

Captain Anchor,

I hereby and despite my reluctance request an immediate demotion concerning the Sergeant Tristan Bloodstone. After years of serving him as a superior and a friend, I fear now that he has proven himself unworthy to carry his current title anymore.

You must understand that I am not writing this request lightly, but after much reflection indeed. To explain my decision, I suspect a brief reminder of the most recent facts is in order. More precise information about the case has already been filed under references R721, R722 and R724.

Four days ago exactly, a young girl was arrested, suspected to be involved with the fire that completely destroyed "Ghent's Children Orphanage". I wish to lay emphasis on the violence of this event, that caused the death of thirteen innocent children, two nurses and the founder of the orphanage himself.
For reasons undoubted to me, the captured girl came out of the incident unharmed. She was known to be a turbulent and dangerous member of the orphanage, and it seems my repeated warnings have not been enough to avoid the terrible event I had predicted would happen, one way or the other. The words heard from the other children of the orphanage themselves, inspite of the vehement denials from the place's keeper, had long before today led me to believe that the place described to them by the girl herself was no other than the surroundings of the cursed Tilverton. My former demands for the imprisonment of who I suspect to be a demon breed were regretably unresponded to.
Inspite of her clearly faked crying, the creature had been locked into one of our best guarded cells, and put under Sergeant Bloodstone's attention to be questionned. It appeared though that instead of focusing on proving the creature guilty, the forementioned Officer took affection for it, which blinded his judgement. He had the girl released this very morning, pretexting a lack of proven charges against the creature, ignoring her undoubted fiendish nature.

I insist that only men of honour and faith are kept among us, so that this city remains suitably protected. Only by destroying evil in all its forms and without letting ourselves be blindfolded by fake appearances can this goal be achieved. Sergeant Bloodstone needs to be put back onto the right track after letting who I believe to be one of our natural enemies cowardly escape from us.

I therefore request immediate sanction to be taken on him, and for the fiend to be hunted and destroyed.

For justice,
Fentin Dawlec.

[Teah]

locking as by the posters own statement the character was past level 3 at the time of the post.