The Crown in the Forest [CLOSED]

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Karl Wilhelm Mayrdorff
Location | Forest along the Tennaiglini, Salvar

A lone rider travelled through one of the many forests that covered the southeast regions of Salvar, the helmetless individual gazing at the many trees that inhabited the area as he tried his best to remember what types they were. Karl was never the most intelligent, but he liked to think he had a mild knowledge of botany given that he was still a farmer.

The towering, narrow tree in front of him had to be pine, right? He nodded quietly to himself and ran a hand through the mane of his loyal steed, Geoffrey, who sighed in content as he continued walking along the pathless terrain.

A distant bellow ripped him from his cerebration, Karl scrambling to slide the bucket helmet back onto his chainmail coif, his heart beginning to pulsate louder. Now fully alert, he gave Geoffrey a gentle squeeze with his legs and spurred his mount into a canter towards the direction of the scream, his armoured hands grasping the reins tightly.

Even though the narrow slits granted him a limited view of his surroundings, he could see that they were riding up to a decent-sized clearing, prompting him to pull back on the reins and cause his horse to slow down to a trot. Geoffrey stopped near the edge of the clearing when he pulled on the reigns again, the man-at-arms removing his feet from the stirrups and swinging his right leg up and over the haunches, so that gravity could do the rest and allow him to slide down to the ground.

Walking forward, he saw the source of the earlier disturbance in the form of a gaggle of lightly-armoured orcs surrounding a small grove of oak trees, the miscreants waving their poorly-made weapons around to intimidate something hiding up among the branches. Roving groups of orcs were common in the northern reaches where the clans lived, but he had never heard of them appearing near the border with Raiaera. He angled his head upward to search the branches, almost doing a double-take when he laid his eyes upon an extraordinarily beautiful high elf.

His code of chivalry made it so that he knew exactly what he had to do at that moment, the man turning to retrieve an object covered with cloth from his horse, unwrapping it to reveal an ornate iron warhammer which he gripped securely in both hands. He strode forth into the clearing, his chausses clanking with every movement. "Meine Freunde! That is not the proper way to treat a lady!" He shouted, his accented voice booming across the glade and causing the rabble to turn and snarl.

They began to trudge towards him, their swords and cleavers rapping against tree-bark shields in an attempt to frighten him. But he was a Salvarian knight, and an innocent traveller required assistance; at any rate, he wasn't going anywhere. He tightened his grip on the warhammer and charged forth, sprinting at the group with terrifying swiftness, a baleful roar escaping from his bucket helmet as he raised his arms and prepared to strike.

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Ayvriel Leviasi ia Saiph
Location | Forest along the Tennaiglini, Salvar

It has been a series of unfortunate events ever since Ayvriel left the gates of Tor Elythis behind her.

Well…

Perhaps there was the faintest touch of embellishment in her words, but it was not by much!

Within the first few hours of leaving the only life she had known thus far, the elf with starlight hair found that while she now possessed the freedom to go where she wished… it was lonely. Without the hushed murmurs of fellow academicians discussing theories or the everpresent whisper of the waves permeating through the air, it was quiet in a way the fledgling spellsinger has never known until today.

And in her first evening away from home, Ayvriel found herself lying in the middle of a flower field, longing for her papa’s wry humour and her mama’s gentle hands clasping her own as they both sang of their joy. Staring up at the stars and slowly naming them in her mind, the elven maiden cried that night, wondering through her tears if she was indeed as young and woefully unprepared as her family and magi teachers has deemed her to be.

Even through her misery, she persisted, for her pride and resolve would never allow her to falter on the path she had chosen to walk upon.

With only her beloved Hanya’ye as her companion, Ayvriel made her way towards the accursed city of Beinost. The last time she was set foot within its boundaries, it has been to provide aid and succour to its denizens. And while all traces of the devastation of the Corpse War has been erased, the echoes of suffering that she had witnessed when the city was still named Anebrilith continued to haunt her. Quiet and solemn, with a hand closed firmly around the clasp of her cloak, the elven maiden made her way towards the harbour.

A few days at sea with her telling stories and singing sea shanties to amuse children and adults alike found Ayvriel in Tirel with a more cheery disposition. Wandering timidly amongst the port city of Salvar, her eyes wide with wonderment and delight at how bright and lively its people were, the fledgling spellsinger gathered supplies and listened for news of further north. Though there was a part of her was hesitant due to the inherent dislike and wariness the northerners held for others, she knew the same was true of her country.

So it was with some pondering that saw the elven maiden deep within the verdant forest that lined the Tennaiglini. While the trees were still verdant, the trace of frost was unfamiliar to the creature that hailed from the temperate city of Tor Elythis, and even with a thick blanket and a small spellfire for warmth, Ayvriel spent the evening huddled by her companion’s side. Her second day fared no better, for while the elf had some guidance when it came to living off the land and was able to forage and hunt, she never been alone and left to fend for herself.

But it was her third day in the wilderness where the fledgling spellsinger encountered true trouble. And were it not for her keen hearing and instincts, Ayvriel would have been caught. The moment the ivory horse had raised his head from grazing on a patch of clovers, the elven maiden was prepared to bolt. But realising that their attempts at an ambush were discerned, the group of orcs bellowed, startling the already skittish Hanya’ye and sending him running from the clearing they were in.

With a note of fear resounding through her form, the elven maiden took a glance at their intimidating forms and the weapons they held… and panicked. Before she could even contemplate how absolutely obtuse it was for her to clamber up a tree, Ayvriel flowed into motion, leaping up into the sturdy oak that she was resting beneath. And there she stayed, fearful and anxious until an armoured form charged into the fray.

Her ears pricked with interest even as her gaze followed the knight, her figure weak with relief and gratitude. She was a poor warrior, and even so harassed, the argent-haired elf was still reluctant to harm her assailants. But the moment of frailty was fleeting, when Ayvriel realised that her saviour was alone, and that the orcs may use their numbers to overwhelm him. With her teeth biting down on her bottom lip, the aspiring spellsinger began to gather her focus.

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Karl Wilhelm Mayrdorff
Location | Forest along the Tennaiglini, Salvar

He was nearing the band of orcs now, his weapon raised and ready to deliver a puissant blow. The closest of the unruly bunch was smarter than he appeared and brought his shield to bear, sacrificing the slapdash tree-bark buckler to the armoured man's warhammer.

The fiend did not hesitate to counter with its cleaver, striking downward in an attempt to sunder the Salvarian knight; however, the latter was ready to intercept the attack with his weapon's lengthy handle.

Karl saw a chance and took it, kicking the orc in the shin and swinging his hammer to the side, smashing it against the beast's helmet and caving in its skull. He stepped back as the lifeless corpse collapsed onto the ground, blood trickling from the shattered head. 'One down, seven more to go' he thought quietly to himself, taking a deep breath and glaring at the remaining combatants through his helm.

Understandably, most of them were a bit hesitant to go up against this interloper after he just crushed the skull of one of their number in a matter of seconds. This lull in the fight gave the armoured man a quick respite to regain any stamina expended, preparing a strike as a duo of orcs rushed him - one armed with a sickle, and the other with a zweihander.

He was good at fighting but he knew to be cautious when the deck was still stacked against him, adopting a defensive stance when the weapons came soaring in his direction. The zweihander he dodged with ease, sidestepping out of the way; conversely, the sickle was a little too fast for him and ended up piercing the chainmail protecting his arms, leaving a gash that would have to be treated later.

Karl lurched, hurtling his warhammer into the abdomen of the sickle-wielder and knocking it to the ground. He reeled back, bringing his weapon up and then down into the chestplate of the orc on the ground, triturating the poor being. He moved to make some space between him and the remaining orcs, cupping his bleeding arm and rushing to focus the air of magic into the wound to reduce the bleeding by a small amount.

The zweihander tried to step forward and stab him while he was preoccupied, Karl managing to deflect the blow with his gauntlet and propel his warhammer into the creature's knee, twisting around to crash it into its back and execute it.

The knight turned just as a bolt of magick impacted against his coat of plates, searing a hole in his surcoat and sending him flying back.

Sometimes he really hated magic.

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Ayvriel Leviasi ia Saiph
Location | Forest along the Tennaiglini, Salvar

The clash that was unfolding below was swift and brutal, reminiscent of the tempests that wailed upon Tor Elythis during the late winter moons. The thunderclap of warhammer against shield resounded across the clearing, its toll serving as the death knell of the misfortunate vanguard.

Even when they held malevolent intentions for the elven maiden, a shudder still coursed through her form as the first orc fell towards the grass. Ayvriel has always been a gentle creature, and she mourned for the loss of life even while she knew of the necessity, more so when the orcs were under the auspices of bloodlust and the lone knight was at a disadvantage.

But it was clear to even her, who has always been kept safe and far away from harm, that her saviour was a proficient warrior. The fledgling spellsinger continued to be a bystander to the skirmish below as two more orcs lunged for armoured figure, her eyes wide with wonderment as he evaded the slash in a flowing movement, only to gasp when the curved blade caught the knight.

Ayvriel leaned as far as she could on her precarious perch even as he took down the assailant, her worry for the other palpable on her fine features when liquid red trickled down from his wounded arm. And thought she wanted nothing more to rush to his side, the air beneath her feet reminded the elven maiden that she was still caught high in an oak tree. Unable to render aid and feeling helpless, she worried at her lower lip as the knight began to maintain his distance.

It was then that the telltale scent that accompanied a spark of lightning permeated the clearing.

A spellcaster.

Before she could even whisper a verse to counter the magick, a flash of white struck her saviour, sending the armoured figure clattering to the ground.

The fledgling spellsinger may be meek and believed in a naïve philosophy, never wanting to do harm if it was at all possible. But never would she stand aside and allow any further harm to befall a man who sacrificed his own safety to aid a stranger.

A gleam of resolve lit up her eyes as Ayvriel chanted, her voice rising and falling as she sang the verse of life, beseeching for the blessings of the forest. Words of her fears and worries, words praising the kind man that needed her aid, words of the trouble they were both in, it was all suffused and woven within her song. With the gathering of her intent from a moment before and her communion to spell and song, the trees of Tennaiglini granted the elven maiden her wish.

It started as a tremor that shuddered across the ground, easily dismissed.

Even then, the spellsingers of the elves were renowned far and wide. The orcs who has once thought Ayvriel vulnerable due to her flight began to wear fear on their roughhewn mien as her clear vibrato filled the quiet of the clearing and the earth continued to rumble in an even more alarming manner. As her voice soared, interspersed by the rising forte of groans and creaks, the roots of the trees began to emerge through grass, rushing towards the remaining orcs.

The spellcaster of the group snarled the words of destruction, but with the bolt of lightning he had unleashed upon the knight and the equilibrium of his focus shaded by the apprehension of their being surrounded, the gnarled root of an oak whipped around his voice, silencing him. It was only instinct to struggle, but the more the orc mage fought against his binds, the more firmly the root curled itself around his form.

Never having taken a life before, the elf with starlight hair was content to allow the mage remain in the grasp as she cast her gaze towards the other orcs.

“Sir Knight, are you well?”

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Karl Wilhelm Mayrdorff
Location | Forest along the Tennaiglini, Salvar

As he picked himself up off of the ground, his head felt as if it had been trampled on by a horse, his ears ringing even after he managed to remove the dented heaume from over his face.

A warm feeling on his torso and the smell of burning metal prompted him to gaze down at his chest, where the still-glowing remains of his warhammer had integrated itself with his chestplate, the bubbling steel singeing the nearby leather. Hoping to save what was left of his equipment, he produced a dagger and reached behind himself - cutting through the leather straps that secured the coat of plates.

Throwing the metal aside with a thud, he sheathed the dagger and pulled his longsword from its scabbard, just now realizing that the threats had already been dealt with and that the damsel was calling out to him from above.

He blinked a few times, lowering his blade and looking up at the woman in the tree. "Yes, my lady. I am quite alright - better than these scoundrels." He called back, making sure that the remaining orcs were relieved of their weapons before replacing his sword. "What about you, my lady? Are you hurt?"

There was certainly a tone of worry in his voice, even though none of the assailants had managed to scale her makeshift fortress before his timely arrival.

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Ayvriel Leviasi ia Saiph
Location | Forest along the Tennaiglini, Salvar

With a graceful flourish of her hands, more gnarled roots broke through the ground, gliding over the surface swiftly to ensnare the remaining orcs.

Fight or flight, whatever their intentions were, they have proven themselves to be aggressive. And while Ayvriel did not wish harm on their persons, she would never allow them to draw within striking distance of her saviour while he was indisposed.

With the inherent confidence that came to one who has never tasted the bitter fruit of failure, the elven maiden had faith in the bindings she had wrought and gave her regard to the brave knight below. And from what she was able to discern, other than the unfortunate state of his armour and warhammer, the man seemed fine. Deciding that she would ensure that her saviour be properly attired before they parted as a small gesture of gratitude for his coming to her rescue, the spellsinger smiled at the knight, touched by the worry she could hear in his words.

“I am unharmed as well, Sir Knight. We heard them before they came upon us.”

Lowering her arms, elven maiden treaded further out onto the branch she was perched on, peering out from between the foliage. “My name is Ayvriel Leviasi ia Saiph… May I know the name of my saviour?” A rose hue began to stain her visage even as she continued to speak, “… And if it is not too much to ask, could I trouble you to– to help me down?”

For while Ayvriel may be of a race renowned for their sinuous grace, she was woefully ill-suited for physical pursuits. And the ground looked so very far away from where she stood.

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Karl Wilhelm Mayrdorff
Location | Forest along the Tennaiglini, Salvar

Satisfied that she was unharmed, he nodded fervently when she asked him for his name, kneeling down and resting his hands on his sword.

"I am Sir Karl Wilhelm Mayrdorff, at your service my Lady Ayvriel." He paused, just barely noticing the blush that appeared on her mien as she voiced her request, "It is no trouble at all, I will get you down."

He stood, considering the tree for a second with a rather confounded expression on his face. The elven maiden was just out of reach among the branches, and he certainly couldn't risk hurting her by catching her. Karl received a sudden idea and whistled sharply, prompting Geoffrey to gallop out of the treeline over to him.

The horse lovingly nuzzled his exposed face as the man lined it up beneath the woman and mounted it to give him the extra reach he so desperately needed. He stroked Geoffrey's mane to ensure that he wouldn't move.

Lifting his arms upward, he gestured for the elf to drop down out of the tree and onto him.

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Ayvriel Leviasi ia Saiph
Location | Forest along the Tennaiglini, Salvar

“Ayvriel will do, Sir Mayrdoff,” she affirmed, the lilt of her voice melodious even as she sounded his name for the very first time.

“Considering that you found me trapped up a tree like a foolish little kitten, I think we can forgo the need for formalities.” A faint quirk of her lips gave her smile an impish cast, “Not to mention, ‘Lady’ merely adds a mouthful.” That, and it was the spellsinger’s inclination to abide by form and decorum only when the occasion made it an obligation.

Gentle laughter escaped her when the knight’s horse nuzzled at his face, for the beast’s affection only reassured the elven maiden once more that her saviour was a kind man. Placing her trust in him, Ayvriel inhaled a breath of frost touched air to bolster her courage… and took a small leap off the branch.

The world became a blur as she fell and fell–

–And when fear began to encroach upon her heart, an awaiting pair of arms closed firmly around her.

Her sapphire eyes widened even as her heart raced. “T… Thank you for coming to my aid. I would have fallen flat on my face otherwise.” While the spellsinger was dressed in a traveller’s garb of royal blue and storm grey, it was clear from its fine make that she was a personage of some distinction. And even to an inexperienced eyes, the embellishments of delicate mythril that adorned her attire denoted her allegiance and House.

“But I think after today… I could do with less adventures,” the elven maiden uttered, giving the bound orcs a glare. “I– If you do not mind a companion, can I trouble you for another few nights? Until we reach a town or city? I would like to recompense you for your armour and warhammer.”

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Karl Wilhelm Mayrdorff
Location | Forest along the Tennaiglini, Salvar

He caught her safely within his arms, holding onto the woman securely as their proximity allowed him to get a better look at her features.

His scar-hewn face relaxed from its usual grimace as he found himself lost in her cobalt eyes, which very easily overwhelmed the dark azure of her clothing, the patterns of which failing to draw his attention in the slightest. Every second seemingly lasting an eternity all the while his heart thundered in his ears.

Karl was unsure if it was the concussion or something else, but merely drinking in the beauty of her mien, the smoothness of her ivory skin, and the allure of her roseate lips made him light-headed and weightless as if his armour wasn't even there.

He barely registered her addressing him and blinked slowly, finally realizing that he had been holding her close and gawking at her for well over a minute, the hedge knight scrambling to right themselves on the horse. He slid them down from the saddle and immediately stepped away from the maiden.

Considering her request, he smiled warmly as he freed his hands through the slatted leather of his mail mittens. "It would be no trouble to accompany you, La- Ayvriel." He quickly corrected, "I believe the next town is a far few miles down South." His pride urged him to speak up against her compensating him for his gear, but he decided to save that conversation until later.

Striding over to salvage what was left of his plates, he dropped the scrap into Geoffrey's saddlebags and tucked his great helm under his arm. "Ah...what should we do about...them?" He asked the maiden quietly, eyeing up the bound orcs that glowered at him.

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Ayvriel Leviasi ia Saiph
Location | Forest along the Tennaiglini, Salvar

Silence.

Ayvriel turned her gaze towards her saviour, blinking curiously up at the male.

Is he contemplating if it is worth his while?

Due to her sheltered life on the island city of Tor Elythis, the elven maiden has never held any conversation of significance with a human until providence has brought them together.

His visage, so fierce and indomitable when he was challenging the orc miscreants that had beleaguered her, has become gentle and kind. The knight himself cut a distinctive figure in her inexperienced eyes, for his frame was broad and tone swarthy. And while Ayvriel found herself unable to place his age, from the lines and scars etched on his face, it was evident that her saviour has lived a hard life.

Or is he attempting to obscure his injuries?

“Sir Mayrdoff…?” she queried after a moment of wavering.

Before the spellsinger could continue to speak, it was as though her words pierced through the reverie that clouded his mind. In a flowing movement that has her grasping at the hauberk encased arm to preserve her precarious balance, Ayvriel soon found her feet set firmly on the ground.

Her ears pricked up at this agreement, relieved and heartened. “Thank you,” she said gratefully. After today, the very thought of continuing her journey across Salvar by her lonesome was a daunting one.

As for the ensnared orcs?

Releasing the knight’s arm, she graced them with a disdainful flicker of her eyes. “… Let them be. When we are a distance away, my influence will begin to dissipate. They should be able to free themselves in a few hours.” Even while they had wished her harm, Ayvriel was a devoted student of the school of Lissilin and would never seek retribution upon them.

A shimmer of a pearlescent lustre moving between foliage and shadow entered her vision and Ayvriel ignored the surly orcs once more, her hands raised to soothe the tense palfrey that ambled towards her, his hooves pawing at the ground when he came to a halt before her.

“Calm, Hanya’ye. They are caught and cannot harm you.”

Even so, they should not linger, for the sun was beginning to move towards the horizon. The elven maiden turned back towards her saviour with a warm smile. “South, you mentioned? We will follow your lead, Sir Mayrdoff.”