#i'm also certain there's a couple innacuracies to the lore but to that i say 'fuck it'

[cursedmenagerie]

　　　"I will not forgive you if we find trouble in this place.” Ralyanis looks past her companion to the old fort ahead of them, carved stone walls that must have once housed a great army now left in the uncaring hands of nature. She would never have given the structure a second glance in any other situation, but she spied wooden scaffolding among the derelict ruins. A clear sign that someone still resided within. 

　　　Virizion, with his endless optimism, kept at his steady stride towards the fort’s entrance. “I am certain we will. And if we live through it I won’t complain if you remind me every day after. But these are the first intelligent beings we’ve come across since leaving the caves. With any luck, or perhaps by the grace of the gods, they’ll be willing to help us.”

　　　"And how do you intend on asking as much from them?” She stops him with a firm hand to his chest. They stand at the edge of the tree line. If they so chose, the two could disappear in seconds and leave the fort and its eerie promise of contact with other people behind them. “We cannot be certain they speak the same languages as us. They live in the wilds, in a crumbling fortress where they can defend themselves from anything they perceive as a threat. How inviting. Surely they will send us away with nothing to show for our efforts, if not swords at our backs.”

　　　"Then we shall give as good as we get, won’t we dear friend?” The smile he gives her before pressing on mollifies her. It isn’t one born of over confidence; rather, Virizion knows fully well the dangers ahead and recognizes that they came with the decision they made to leave behind their home.

　　　Her heart still beats swiftly as she keeps pace behind him, bow in hand with an arrow nocked as a precaution. When they come within twenty feet of the fort’s entrance a harsh voice calls out above them. The words fall on non-fluent ears, but the meaning rings like a clear day and the two halt. On the archway above the gates a man in tarnished armor surveys them, making a motion for another at his side to leave him. Virizion hazards a step forward and the man calls out again, drawing a sword from its sheath.

　　　Virizion raises empty hands, dipping his head in a display of submission. He clears his throat, brows drawn as he considers his course of action. When he speaks Ralyanis recognizes the slight distinction between their own and the ancient language of the Ayleids. “We are peaceful travelers. We mean no harm. We seek shelter and food, if it can be spared.”

　　　The lack of a response makes it obvious that the man doesn’t understand them. From the gate a pair of his companions emerge with weapons drawn to approach them. The leader speaks briefly with another in simple robes in the same throaty language. The thought dawns on her that these are likely Nords, descendants of those who had driven her people away. They hardly impress, caked in dirt and wearing flimsy leathers about them. One of the men reaches for Ralyanis’ bow and she flinches back.

　　　"Keep away from me.” Too late she recognizes that the venom in her voice does little to help their situation. A woman with her bow drawn wearing full armor doesn’t suit the nonviolent message they’re trying to get across. Virizion gives her a pointed stare while stepping between her and the men.

 　　　"We are peaceful,” He reiterates, this time in a broken attempt at ancient Nordic. “We need food. We will leave if-”

　　　One man, with graying chin hairs that fall to his collarbone, cuts him off with a huff. His tone seems less of anger and more of annoyance, at least. What little relief she feels at this sinks when the leader calls out again, and his men move behind them to usher them forward with the points of their swords. With few choices left the two elves comply. They’re lead past the fort’s gates where the robed man awaits them among a small handful of others. In each of his hands lays a set of wrought iron manacles. 

　　　Ralyanis seeks Virizion’s eyes and an understanding passes between them. She makes to put away her bow in feigned obedience, and in the same instant that Virizion weaves an arcane conduit into existence Ralyanis strikes behind her with the flashing edge of a silver dagger from her belt. Crimson streaks along her face as the man she struck grasps his neck, but she moves fluidly to lay waste to his companion while Virizion conjures an ice wraith into existence, setting its serpentine form of frost and fury upon the Nords within the fort. With a short sword in hand the remaining man behind them holds his own against her meager dagger, though only for a few brief seconds before her partner grapples his sword arm, leaving him open to a clean strike. 

　　　Shouts of terror and fury ring out as the two flee towards the trees, but by the time their pursuers finish off the wraith and can make chase the elves are gone. 

　　　Night falls before the two take shelter under a rocky outcropping. Neither dares to light a fire for fear of being spotted by the men they fled from, and they sup on what remains of the dried elk they brought from the safety of their home rather than venture out and hunt. No words are shared, except to exchange watch while they gather an hour of rest each. Exhausted as they are, Virizion insisted that they put as much distance as they could between them and the humans that tried to take them captive.

　　　After their two hours of rest they begin their trek again, though at a slower pace in the dark and unfamiliar woods. The miles blur together, with little of note except a lone wolf that pays its fresh kill more mind than it does them.

　　　By the time the sun begins to rise once more they happen upon a site of great destruction. Where the fort they previously encountered had deteriorated over many years, the stone walls and charred buildings before them were destroyed recently. When Ralyanis makes to push aside a fallen log it disintegrates under her touch, and burnt bodies lie rotting in the streets.

　　　"What could have caused this?” Virizion utters the words as a whisper, as though afraid to disturb the scene of a thorough slaughtering. 

　　　They make their way towards the far side of the settlement where a solid stone structure sits. Unlike the rest of the town it seems to have suffered minimal damage in the attack given its sturdy nature, but it too has no shortage of corpses surrounding it. A wooden door leading inside sits off its hinge, so they slip inside to salvage what they can and hopefully gain insight into what happened. Most of what they make out to be food stores has been picked clean, and what remains has rotten or been chewed through by vermin. They resign themselves to hunting once they leave the area. Amidst the barren furnishings Ralyanis finds a leather bound book, written in a script she can barely discern as having roots in Ayleidoon and Nordic. A couple of words on the book’s first page can be translated, but the meaning of its passages eludes her. Despite this, the discovery lifts her spirits. With this to study she might make progress in understanding the language spoken by the people of the area. 

　　　When the two regroup at the building’s entrance they catch the sound of scuffling feet in the distance which sets them immediately on edge. Ralyanis half expects Virizion to make another attempt at contact, but the memory of nearly becoming captives must still be fresh in his mind for he leads them swiftly towards the gate farthest from the source of the sound to leave the smoldering fortress behind. 

　　　From here the mountains slope away, allowing a broad view of the forest ahead of them and a glimmering lake beyond it. They decide on the lake as their next destination, knowing that any source of water will attract creatures to it. Half a day’s travel changes the landscape around them, with white-capped hills giving way to tall fir trees and dusty trails rather than tracks in the snow. By the time they break away to hunt for the night’s meal the only white that remains in view are each other and the distant glimpses of snowy mountain tops they make out through the trees. 

　　　It isn’t until they make camp near a shrine of intricately carved stones that Virizion breaks the silence that persisted between them since leaving the Nordic fort. “I’m sorry for my error in judgement.”

　　　Ralyanis is slow in reacting to him, setting aside the book she’d found to face her friend. His focus is elsewhere, the orange flicker of their campfire in his eyes as he stares out across the nearby lake. “You did as you thought best. And you kept them from overrunning us. It was naive and foolish, but we persevered.”

　　　"That it was.” He shakes his head, a grim smile tucked into his collar. “When I thought about journeying to the outside world I envisioned myself as a perfect diplomat. I didn’t even conceive that there might still be so much hatred among the humans.”

　　　"Neither of us could have known what we would face.” Ralyanis stands to cross the pebbled shore until the water lapped at her ankles. “Plans will go astray, and we’ll make mistakes. That is why you brought me along, is it not?” She turns to look at him over her shoulder, relieved to see a brighter shine in his smile. “Look at this place, Viri. The entirety of Syrabane’s temple could fit on the surface of this lake. And we’ve only just begun our journey.”

　　　The crunch of shifting stones signals her friend moving to her side. “I suppose if all goes terribly we could make a home here. Become simple fishermen.”

　　　She chuckles at the thought of either of them settling into a simple life by the water. It didn’t sound much better than the fate their people had resigned themselves to in the mountainous sanctuary. But at least here they would be free. There would be none of their deformed brethren encroaching on their territory, and there would be the promise of interaction with the other races of the world. The view wasn’t half bad, either.

　　　"That can come at a later day. We shouldn’t give up before we have begun after all. Get some rest, friend. I’ll take first watch.” Ralyanis pats his arm before moving to retrieve her bow and quiver. The last of the sun’s warm hues bled from the sky as she settled in at the edge of their camp, daring any creature to disturb the peace they deserved.