Snippet #2617564

Turmoil rolled across these lands like an upset stomach. Monarchs shivered in their gallant thrones, cowing from the problems they faced and silently praying the Pestilence would not seep through their gilded walls. When they weren't panicking and banging at the castle doors, their people were obtrusively oblivious. The Pestilence itself was as vicious as ever, killing and devouring like a mad dog. But that would not be an issue today. Today was special, for today would be a momentous occasion: wherein the Serpent's Gathering would be formed, forever solidifying the alliance between elves and orckind; wherein they would have the first great leap towards combating the plague.

Yet to Adriel Nisaan, it was a shit day. To Adriel Nisaan, the crowded city streets of Autumour left much to be desired. Too many humans, too many mercenaries clad in armor, reeking of desperation. The Serpent's Gathering had come to this nature-forsaken place as a meeting point, and as an aside, his companion suggested they try again to seek an official human alliance to the cause. They were not only denied official entry, but they were derisively escorted out of the westward Autumour castle's premises by Silver Knights who laughed them off. "The gall," cooed one Silver Knights to the other before muttering some racist slur. It prickled Adriel's nerves like the jolts of lightning that ran through his veins. The whole day had gone poorly, and Adriel hated it. It felt like he was the only elf in Tegea, surrounded by a sea of disgusting and dirty people. The townsfolk here had it “better” than most other humans, their streets were “cleaner” than most than most other humans. But all around him, the elf’s eyes saw nothing but dirty, impoverished, and pathetic beings.

It might not have seemed nearly as bad to him if the large man standing to his left, an orc who Adriel had known for far too long, didn’t seem so chipper about the ordeal. Higoht Ezengbo was his name, and to Higoht, it was a very nice day. Most might have expected something more poetic from the so-called champion, but Higoht was feeling perfectly peachy almost from the weather alone. And Autumour was beautiful; he found colors not only in the falling leaves, but in the sheer variety of people they passed, and in those gaping faces awed by his height. Yes, he loved these random citizens. When they first arrived, he had tried to stop and talk to children brave enough to approach him until Adriel dragged him to his senses.

"You were too damn friendly back there," the infiltrator groaned in his general direction. It seemed only to rustle further ire when Higoht only chortled in response. "In front of the castle, I meant. And you were too damn friendly, taking a gander at the half-baked mercenaries who’d come by to show what they were capable of. If it weren't for me, half this disgusting city would be a member of the Serpents Gathering!"

"I suppose that bothers you." Conceded Higoht, before briskly continuing when he saw Adriel's dark expression. "Thank you for your efforts, Adriel. Very good. You must be tired, here, let's have a seat." There was a plethora of crates laying about, abandoned under the meeting point, under the the ebony bridge. It was where lovers met, from what the orc had heard. One of the small wooden constructions creaked under his weight, but Higoht paid it no mind. He knew from how little it bent that it would hold his weight.

“I have a feeling that you and I, Serass, are going to be the only two people good enough to join,” Adriel resumed, paying Higoht no heed. A hearty stretch and a yawn accompanied a quick twitch of his neck. He hated it so much here that he was bored. At least that in itself was interesting; Adriel couldn’t remember how many years it had been since he was last bored.

"But Adriel," Higoht chided rather seriously. "I can't join my own party. That's not how it works at all."

The elf glared at him a little, but deigned it best not to respond to such foolishness. “...Look. You can go stay here, but I am going to go look through the local brigand dens. There’s probably a few redeemable elves in there that would join our cause.”

"So impatient." Higoht said under his breath, not remotely in a quiet way, "That's why I'm still master's favorite." He blinked up at his Second innocently as he lifted an armored leg to rest atop his crate. "Just remember we have agents doing this job for you."

"And not one has been assigned to Autmour." Adriel replied curtly. Then, taking a deep breath, Adriel stalked off. He couldn’t believe he was resorting to this; brigand dens were never located in the “good” parts of town. They were always more desperate than humans areas normally were, full of thieves and assassins. As an infiltrator, Adriel had used more than a few brigands in the Market District to launch hits in the very city. But he had always hated talking to them, and used them only when necessary. If he was seriously considering going there for fun, then this whole recruition plan might not be going as well as either of them had hoped.

Thus far, they only had one new member, and that in itself was getting on his nerves. She was forced into their midst like a single, dirty sock by the Bydan Queen, and she was so thin that Adriel was certain she wouldn’t last the winter, let alone a jog through the Pestilence. She wasn’t here now, thank the Gods--with that mouth of hers, they had argued for hours, despite the orc trying his best to maintain peace. Adriel had sent her to search for recruits earlier this morning, and initial complaints aside, the quiet that came with her absence had been a blessing. The elf moved through the city quickly; his life dedicated to the purpose of quick walking and silent stepping had made few notice his movements. In a blur of speed and wind, Adriel found himself in the Market District.

Even though he hadn’t noticed any street signs, the elf knew he was in the right place. The air here clung to his clothing, and everything seemed to carry a layer of dirt on it. The smells were ghastly. Rotting food, rodent-chasing cats, and the occasional slumped body were common sights on the crumbling streets of the Market District.

Where there was darkness, there was a speck of light. He entered the first dingy and discreet looking building he found, and inside was a hall of festivities. Dancing barmaids, loud music, and enough beer to swim in could be found in plenty at the tavern, and it wasn’t even noon. Normally this was Adriel’s kind of place, but as it turned out, while alcohol might build liquid courage, those he approached must not have drank much. Most elves he'd found turned down the offer without difficulty. Others realized he was serious, and then immediately went back to drinking. He should have realized sooner that the people living in Autumour, of all places, would never face the Pestilence. It was too far away, their walls were thick, and there were too many damn Silver Knights--a few on their day off had tried to pick a fight with him. Even the hardiest of men here seemed reluctant to even speak of the horrors that occurred in the outer territories, and had no interest in leaving their fair home. Of course, none of this caused him to reevaluate his opinion on the human population as a whole. So many people, all choosing not to fight a disease that affected mostly their kind. Scum, all of them. Eventually, Adriel left the district, picking at his clothes that now smelled like beer and filth. He rejoined his ally on the stoop of boxes, refusing to acknowledge Higoht's desire to say something about it. “I certainly hope the woman’s found something. Otherwise it’s going to be just you and I. How do you feel about being heroes, serass?”


The orc raised a hand calmly, again quelling the urge to say something about Adriel's new choice in perfume: "Adriel, we wait here until sundown. Have faith in your agents... and in mine." As if on cue, the orc made eye contact with a passing warrior who had slowed his pace and looked around. "Good afternoon," Higoht began amicably as more people seemed to gather under the ebony bridge.

They were starting to file in now, like mice to cheese. There were short ones and big ones, humans and nonhumans alike. It seemed as though the agents had indeed done their jobs providing a wealth of newcomers. Good for them; Adriel had to admit he was impressed. Realizing that he had a role to play and a reputation to uphold, Adriel arose from his dingy box, his hands flicking a current through his hair to ensure it was out of his face. Higoht stood up next to him, rather dwarfing him, but Adriel paid him no heed. They had agreed previously that Higoht would be keeping his mouth shut for the time being. Adriel gazed out at the forming group, his features increasingly still. His posture was rigid, beaten into him by the Infiltrators, displaying poise, grace, and left little to the imagination.

“Greetings, everyone." Said the elf, at a solid enough volume for all to hear. "Hurry up, file in. You’re all a varied bunch if I’ve ever seen one. This is the Ser... This is Higoht Ezengbo, hero of Kyoshel, the First with immunity to the Pestilence, as well as your leader. You can talk to him when you come back. I’m sure he will be happy to greet those of you who live through the ordeal.” Toward the back, he noticed a familiar blonde return and mingle within the crowd. She had no one with her, the wench couldn’t even find a single being to join the cause. From how she nonchalantly hung her head and pulled off chunks of her nails, he suspected she didn't even try. Apparently she was about as useless as most of her kind, which was exactly as much faith as he had invested in her. “My name is Adriel Nisaan. I’m an infiltrator for Rielorn," he paused, and said rather scathingly, "some of you might not know what that is... But I was also once a cavalier in the elven military. I will be administering the first and only test to gain entry into the Serpent's Gathering.” His gaze fell upon the equipment most carried. It was an old infiltrator trick, to look at the gear of a soldier who stood before you, and then towards their faces. Some of it was passable, others great, and some of the equipment was downright garbage. Some didn't even wear armor!

"Now you know who we are," Higoht said, ever the opportunist, "Why don't we introduce ourselves? I recognize a few faces here--"

“--I’m afraid if I let my colleague speak, he will coddle you all until you’re unfit for any kind of military service. 'We don’t need to know the names of dead men.'” Honestly, the elf had rarely led before; most of what he was said then was verbatim from the opening ceremonies of the infiltrators. From behind his shoulder, Higoht pursed his lips in a way that said He won't actually stop you from introducing yourself, you should do it anyway if you feel like it.

Finally, Adriel studied their faces. It was hard not to let out a visible sneer at the sheer number of humans in their midst. So, he let it out freely: Adriel’s nose curled so much the man in the moon would be jealous. “Every group has a training day on their first day. I’m glad to see most of you at least came prepared. We’ll be going to Rogland Quarry, a human quarry not far from here. The outgoing Silver Knights take far too long to get ready, and we’re the only group that can make it in time to do what must be done, save for a guild. Needless to say, I’ve got something special planned for you all.”

In the elf’s mind, more than a few of these people would be dead. This test was no small feat, and he still was uncertain how it was allowed to escape the elven territories. Now there had been reports of small earthquakes near the quarry. “Once I am sure there’s no stragglers, we’ll depart.” He silently, and rather pridefully congratulated himself at the end of his speech for not being too racist--otherwise the Serass would have scolded him in front of everybody. While there weren’t too many elves in the party, Adriel was glad to see a few faces belonging to kinsmen. He also noticed a few orcs in the group too. It seemed to be a solid team composition if nothing else.