House Mallorn ar' Celeb'ithil

As he sees Mallorn's gates, he begins to back wing to land in front of them. He touches down with a cloud of dust settling, he utters in tongue as he changes from King Black Dragon form. He resumes his draconic form standing there wearily holding Selel who is unconscious and suffering from loss of blood. He shouts to whom ever may hear. “I am Lord Nexxen, formerly of the House OF Aman. I am seeking Lady Mistara. Her sister has been injured and needs help immediately.” As he falls to his knees from exhaustion for maintaining the aura around her to keep her from passing to the brink of death, he pulls her to him in an embrace and holds her tight waiting for a response.

“Another challenging day today,” sarcastically thinks the tall, brown haired human dressed in armor as he finishes addressing the coming week’s schedule in the main guard house. As Captain Brock Brightshield reaches for the sand to finish the drying of the ink on the scroll, he almost jerks the container as he hears a choir of his men shouting in a discordant alarm. Sighing inwardly, he doesn’t crack the veneer of his professional demeanor as he stands, quickly, but carefully. While unconsciously righting the container of sand quickly, he hurries out from behind the guard desk to discover the cause of the commotion. Clearing the doorway, the cacophony of sound unifies to a common topic of worry – something about a rather large dragon. The Captain of the Watch thinks the term, “enormous” was used, but not seeing the shadow of one so supposedly imposing, nor hearing any sounds of combat, he mentally notes working with his men on accurate descriptions. “Maybe Master Scout Corumir can lead that class,” he mentally adds to his note as he looks up to the ramparts to see several of his men pointing drawn arrows to just beyond the gate.

As he is about to ask for clarity, he hears a weary voice shout from beyond the gate, “I am Lord Nexxen, formerly of the House of Aman. I am seeking Lady Mistara. Her sister has been injured and needs help immediately.”

Brock’s quickly scans his memory and remembers the Lady Selel Luernvain of Aman as a tall, female elf who towered over that drow – Lord Driz’ace -- on their last visit here. The Captain’s eyes go wide and immediately calls the guard to open the gate as he grabs another guard coming out to see the afternoon’s disturbance. “Go get Etriel Mistara,” he tells the guard forcefully, pointing him physically in the direction the guard must go. When he sees that the guard isn’t hurrying, he adds, “NOW!” Brock is rewarded to see the guard burst into a run toward the main house.

Brock stands in front of the gate as the doors are opened to find a man kneeling, holding the Lady Selel close to him, blood issuing from multiple arrow wounds. “YOU,” commands the Captain while pointing to one of his men while racing through his mind to place the face with a name, “Sanderfield! Go get two of the tower shields quickly.” Redirecting his gaze he commands to the ramparts, “Stand down, but be wary. You five men, come hither at once.” Then, without another word, he strides to the man, Lord Nexxen. Kneeling before him to help support the Druids’ sister, he gently adds, “My Lord, allow me, you are near spent. Our Etriel will be along in a moment I assure you.” Looking into Selel’s face, he sees the ashen look of one who has lost much blood, but not yet drained too far. Calling to his men to hasten with the shields, he performs a field assessment of their apparent injuries and realizes how deadly hers are, while his is more fatigue. As the shields arrive he pulls of his blue furred coat and nestles it across the flat shield. Directing his men to gently place Mistara’s sister across the shield so not to jostle a feather on any of the arrows, he then has four of the men carry her to the main hall inside the gate. Turning to Lord Nexxen, he adds, “My Lord, are you capable of walking or would you prefer assistance?”

Feeling like she is floating Sel's mind fades in and out. Flashes of Aman, her family, her friends, the smell of smoke, the roar of her husband. Her mind fights for an answer, yet with each thought she knows her beloved home is gone, her family lost to her. Hearing voices she tries to understand them, but she can only hear the words not the meaning.

She tries to open her eyes, to reach out for her husband, but her body was failing her, fear snaking through her soul. Was this the end, was this how she would leave this realm? As the pain washed through the feelings of loss and despair fill her soul. Her mind begins to close around her physical pain as well as the mental pain of all she has suffered at the hands of those she once thought loved her.

Calling out in her mind, searching for her husband, she feels lost and alone, she is lost in a black mist of voices as they float by, Fianlly she just lets go, welcoming the end.

He reluctantly gives her up, but knows those here are going to help her. He regains his feet and says, "Thank you, No I will be fine. We were ambushed on our way to Fey and Aman is in ruin. I just need to be with her." He quickly follows as they take her to the hall. He feels their connection and knows how weak she is as he calls out to her to tell her that he is near. As they enter the hall he eagerly looks about for her sister.

The main hall is filled with bustling servants as today was the day all the silver serving utensils are cleaned. A trio of people examines the shiny tools of fine dining – an aged male human old enough to be the father of one of the ladies helping him; a middle aged brown haired female human projecting a matronly aura; and a younger brown haired lady seemingly too young to be a member of this group. Commenting on the silverware arrayed across the table, the three so far seem to be satisfied with the work. The elder gentleman raises one of the forks in front of them up slightly above his head, where he can get some of the better afternoon sun to fall over the fork. As he opens his mouth to express his comment, the two ladies to either side of him wait patiently for any words of wisdom he might bestow, a younger voice than expected fills the hall. The work in the hall stops momentarily at the interruption to better hear the words, for in a tight community as this, any news, or gossip, is a welcome entertainment. Turning to the words, the trio sees one of the younger guards come running into the hall from the main courtyard. Seeing the group at the table, the guard seems to have found a target for his tale. “Lady Kesh,” the guard exclaims as he moves quickly to the table, addressing them. “Lady Kesh, we need the Etriel as her sister has been hurt and been brought to our gate and the Captain has sent me to get Mistara ‘cause her sister is hurt and where do I find her so I can get the message to her?” He looks expectantly at them waiting for a sign.

The younger lady tells the older one, “Myra, please quickly clean off this table while I get our lady. I believe she is in her study going over some business with Dharassha. I expect that here is closer to outside than our healing room and they might need the space and light.” With that, she turns and leaves, while Myra, directs the staff in the room to quickly move the silver off the table and put it away.

Kesh, Mistara’s favored handmaiden, makes a quick path to the study, where she knows both elves are going over some of the monthly ledgers, having brought them a later tray of sustenance. Racing through the halls, avoiding the people going about their business, she finally arrives at a solid wooden door. Taking just long enough for a deep breath, she bangs on the door twice, then, without waiting, opens the door to spy Mistara standing with a piece of paper in her hand looking at her as she was obviously interrupted in mid task. The red skinned male elf, sitting at a table, quill poised in hand, seems to have stopped his writing and is staring up at Kesh expecting … something. Kesh doesn’t even clear her throat, but launches into a brief report, "Your pardon, Mistara, but your sister was brought here very hurt and needs your immediate attention.”

“… So, in addition to the grain and herb seed we are receiving from Lord Denious at Bradsford for our breed horses, we should be able to supplement the harvests in Brooksfield for a tidy profit as well as a bountiful next harvest. …” the raven haired female elf dictates while pacing the room by a window. A male elf seems to be writing her words down on parchment while seated behind a scribe’s table. From just looking at the lady talking, one might expect a poor household, seeing her wearing a ripped outfit and bare feet. Her companion is bare chested, wearing a long skirt and sandals. They seem a little out of place in a study filled with expensive leather bound tomes over packing the side walls in the floor to ceiling bookshelves. A pounding at the door has them both stop quickly and stare at the door waiting to see who would dare disturb the couple as they go through the monthly household financial review.

The door opens to reveal Kesh standing in the doorway, obviously with bad news on her tongue. Dhar lets go of the throwing knife strapped to the bottom side of the table and moves his hand back to the table top. Mistara stops her pacing and waits for the obvious serious news to roll out any second. Mistara’s personal handmaiden and friend simply says in her curt way, "Your pardon, Mistara, but your sister was brought here very hurt and needs your immediate attention.”

Dhar looks briefly at Mistara then stands up so fast, his chair continues backward until it rests against the ground. Mistara drops her parchment upon the desk, then says to Kesh, “Where …,” but before she can finish, Kesh informs her that her sister is being brought to the main hall and the table is being cleared in ready for her. More than that, she does not know other than, she is critically and perhaps, fatally, hurt. Before Kesh can finish, Mistara has already left the room at a run with the fire elf in tow. Quickly closing the door, Kesh joins pursuit behind the duo, disadvantaged by her delay.

“You know you won’t lose her,” encourages Dhar. “There are many times I have been in really bad shape and you have rescued me from death’s doorstop.” Mistara can only wonder what her sister has gotten herself into this time. She knows her Dhar is only trying to help, but right now she can only concentrate on the immediate needs – medicinals, healing salves, potions, wraps, wire, needles, and such.

A loud commotion is heard from one of the hallways feeding into the Grand Ivy Hall. “Bring the healing supplies to the room,” a shout is heard. “And don’t forget some clean water too,” the same voice shouts again not long after.

Three figures appear running from said hallway into the hall, a female elf with wavy black hair, followed by a male red-skinned elf, and a human maiden.

“Sel!” exclaims the female elf. She runs towards the entourage that is just entering the hall. Her bare feet, clearly visible under her usual tattered dress, make no sound against the marble floor of the hall. Softly she touches the figure lying on the large shield as the bearers stop short in front of her. “Oh my dear Selel, what have you gotten into now,” she says softly almost a whisper, as her clear green eyes turn misty as tears form in the corner of her eyes. She holds Selel’s left hand with both of hers; closing her eyes as she calls in her mind, “Stay with me dear sister.”

As her eyes open, it was no longer tenderness that is showing from within them. Ablaze with anger as they pierce into her sister’s male companion, the Etriel exclaims to him, “Who did this to her!?”

As she continues to float she hears more voices, but likes the darkness, it numbs the pain. As she is letting go she hears voice she knows. She hears her sister calling to her. “Stay with me dear sister.” She calls back softly, wanting only peace now. "Sister, let me go, there is nothing left, they have stolen and destroyed it all." She lets go and simply drifts into the darkness, seeking peace.

As he rushed in with the guards and comes to a halt . He gazes at first at the woman before him as she says"Who did this to her!?" He quickly snaps out of his deepened state of worry as his eyes whirl a bright green he replies." I am afraid it may have been some of our very own,for we were ambushed a horse back while traveling to Fey. My first reaction was to get to her and bring her to Aman but alas it had already been ransacked and pillaged." He pauses as he looks to Selel's weakened state,and continues." I am afraid the only way the house could have fell would be from traitors within." He chokes up as he looks back to Lady Mistara,"But at the moment I do not care I will take my revenge in time all that matters is her." At that moment he utters his incantation and breaks the aura he had on her,"Can you save her?", he pleads as he looks on.

Her sister's companion pleads, "Can you save her?"

She looks at him pointedly before answering after hearing her sister's call to her just a moment ago, "You ask me the wrong question sir. It is not whether I can save her that matters here, it is whether or not she wants to be saved." The druid sighs and wipes the tears from her face with the back of one hand.

"Take her to the main hall," she says to shield bearers. She grabs Captain Brock's hand before he moves away, "Thank you for your prompt action Captain." The captain simply nods.