Ten chairs. Arranged in a circle with ten proud men of differing species, a tapestried round room encircling all. A couple of humans, three or so elves, an orc and a man more cat than anything. Before six of them were cushions, and seated on those cushions were bound and scantily dressed women, some gagged, others left with their hands free. The men lounged, and some of them with the females before them held or rested their feet on them with gentle possession. Behind each chair stood one or two guards, a spare few female but most male, each armed and willing to lay down his life for his employer. Who were taking turns speaking.
Before Raevin and Stare directly was the finest carved chair of all - a throne for want of a better term. A wave of white hair was revealed atop, as well as an arm holding a goblet, but else the figure was obscured by the huge back of the chair, and a half giant.
A half giant who heard them come in ... Then turned and offered the largest smile.
"Brer," Stare said quietly to her old friend, and once her personal guard from when she was a captive here.
The half-giant grinned, then stepped aside, allowing her the room to move forward. Eyes were on her, reacting to the disturbance that her and Raevin had made by heading in. The conversation between the men paused for a moment, and it allowed time for the man with the white hair to look back.
Blue, startling eyes. Glancing around the side of his throne. His gaze met Stare's and held for a significant moment of time as first surprise, then relief, and lastly satisfaction fell across his features. He slowly smiled, smirking almost and gave her a look that said, 'Welcome home.'
Silence was now reigning. The blue eyed man - Vitruvion himself - turned to his other brothers on the council and waved a hand.
"Continue," he commanded. There was a pause, then the one who had previously been speaking went on, talking apparently about the most recent woman he had kidnapped.
Once the conversation was back in order Vitruvion gestured to Stare, motioning her to come close. As bidden she did, her heart pounding, the knowledge that she would never get away now, after all that had happened, clear in her head. As she approached she noticed someone before him - a young elf, bound with her hands behind her back in intricate knotwork. From a collar on her neck trailed a thin cord of hessian, and this was joined to Vitruvion's hand. When Stare came she glanced back, then her eyes suddenly widened. She sucked in a slow breath, gazing in wonder.
"You're ..." She whispered.
"You have been gone," interrupted Vitruvion, his voice low and quiet. Stare had to lower her head a little in order to hear. It gave the image of her giving supplication to him, which he probably liked.
Stare paused, keeping eye contact with the elf. "Yes," she said in equal measures, answering both of them in one.
Vitruvion slowly pulled in a breath and turned his face back to his brothers. "You have a lot of explaining to do," he intoned.
Then he moved the hand down that held the lead, to push the elf's head away. "Stop," he ordered her. "You will never be the same as her."
