[RP Episode] Slavers and Shackles


So far, so good. “Masse nar-i? Masse Xia?” he asked, looking around the forest. “Where am I?” he repeated in Common for good measure. Halatir was at a loss as to what to do. He was in the middle of a nation whose language he did not speak, in a land he did not know, and was an escaped slave to boot. And in retrospect, vanishing into the forest because of a delirious dream did not seem as clever an idea as he had originally held it to be.


‘‘Shhhh…’’ the elderly looking elf shushed him calmingly accompanied by a gentle hand gesture. ‘‘Anquen’na.’’ he added with a smile. He was reassuring him that he was safe, because that is what the hunter took his looking around as, a worry of being in danger.

The old elf then staggered to his feet clumsily, and groggily waddled to the camp fire where he had skinned 3 dormouses on a stick being cooked over the flames. He took the stick off of the pedestals and came over to Halatir, then offered him the stick. ‘‘Chi.’’ he spoke, while doing a gesture of carrying in to one’s mouth with his other hand.


Gratefully, Halatir accepted the offered meat. “Hanta.” His stomach rumbled. He had had no food in half a day after extremely exhausting physical activities such as killing 6 people, walking several miles, and getting injured.


The winds picked up a bit, and the elderly elf returned to his previous position, which now Halatir could see was a number of blankets arranged in to something akin to a sleeping cocoon. The elf lied down, and watched Halatir enjoy his meal with half opened eyes, which began to close further and further ever so slowly.


Halatir finished eating, attempted to keep his eyes open, and promptly fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. He’d had no true rest for weeks, and now his body demanded attendance. He slept, lying back against a log, ignoring the roots and stones that dug into his back.


Two hours later, the old man began motioning, and got up. He added some more wood to the fire for comfort, and was preparing to head out. He did not bother Halatir while he slept. He was about to do another pass of his snares.


It made no matter. Exhausted Halatir continued to sleep, undisturbed. He didn’t move, not so much as bat an eyelid.


The old elf made a few more ventures like that out in to the forest by himself while Halatir slept safely besides the fire, which kept any animals away. Then, the sun rose. The forest was covered in a thick fog for the first few hours of dawn while the elf went about and collected his snares. When he came back, the fog had cleared up as the sun was gaining altitude. The skies were clear, and the birds began to sing. The hunter stomped out the last embers of his fire, and began packing up his things. Attempting to be as loud as possible while doing so, so he would wake up his Helcelen friend.


As the birds began to sing, Halatir did wake up. He felt stiff, his back ached from the ground, but his brain was now function properly and his eye no longer pain him.

He stood up, taking in his surrounding, and then looked at the aged hunter.

“My thanks again. Hilya-i? May I follow you?” He gestured to himself, and then other elf.


The old elf stared at Halatir for a bit, taking in his form as he stood upright, and saw the marks left upon his being by past fights, torture, and abuse, and he looked upon him with a worrisome expression. The old elf sighed, and as if knowing what Halatir wanted to say, gestured him to follow.

He then turned and proceeded to walk in to the deeper woods, slowly and somewhat clumsily, as he was not as young as he would like to be, even for this otherwise simple profession. They trampled through the dense woodlands until they reached a footpath, and began following that, which lead to another wider one, and so forth, until the path they were on looked very much like a road. The road lead out of the dense forest, and in to a more swamp like region with more dispersed trees. The road they were following had lanterns hung on wooden posts along side it, signifying that it was well maintained, and regularly patrolled.

The Myre 01

Soon enough, a village come in to view.


“Inde?” asked Halatir, pointing at the houses and huts. The place was well ordered, and was certainly controlled by a very powerful clan, to have such well cared for roads. Now that he was no longer in imminent danger of death or slavery, he was able to truly explore his surroundings, and the strange land in which he was adrift.


‘‘Sanji.’’ he replied, as they entered the village. Not much was going on this early yet. The farmers were off already, tending to their farms further afield or cleaning up after their livestock, after they’ve fed the animals. The village had quite a few houses, but was not big enough to be called a town, and it had no protective wall, and no barracks. Only a minor temple in the middle of it which was home to a single monk. The village did have a few guards up and about at this time, two of them to be precise, who were just two of the native villagers with Xia armour on, who had their gear kept and maintained by the local smith. They paid no attention to Halatir, up until the old man began heading right towards them, and was obviously wanting to get their attention…


Halatir continued gazing about him, taking in the sights and smells of this strange village. It did not look so different from his own home in the north, but with far more people, crops, and green. He was only now beginning to appreciate how colorful everything was, from the trees to the grass, with no snow in sight.


Village - Sanji

It was about mid day now, and the sun was bombarding the lands with all its fury. It was incredibly bright outside, and the swampy area made the air awfully sultry, and was swarming with insects.

The old elf hunter Halatir was following, Gonshun, had lead him to the two village guards and began conversing with them. It was obvious he was telling them about Halatir when the old man indiscreetly pointed at him, and then stepped aside for the guards to take a good look at him.

Xia Infantry 01

‘‘Karera wa ni shenme?’’ asked one of the guards, looking Halatir straight in the eyes.


Halatir frowned and shrugged, looking at Gonshun with a helpless expression. For all he knew, the elf had just told him about the habitats of squirrels.


The guards looked at the old elf. He told them ‘‘Tabu wa hai hanasanai.’’ and the guards nodded. Facing Halatir, they gestured him to follow them to the village square, to where Gonshun would not accompany them.


Thanking the hunter again for the food, though he could not understand him, Halatir followed, still taking in the sights, sounds, and smells of the place. On the whole, color was the many difference between this village and his home, the green, red and brown a stark contrast to his white and grey barren wastes.


The two guards escorted him to the central temple located in the heart of the village. It had a small stone wall around it, and separated the outside street from the inside garden, which was right now being tended to by the small temple’s sole priest.

The priest looked middle aged, having predominantly black hair with a few greys around the sides and back of the head. His hair could be considered long and well groomed, as would his goatee. He was wearing a long red silk robe with long baggy sleeves and extended double shoulder pads, and was wearing sandals.

The guards came up to the priest, and again, told him about Halatir. The priest looked at Halatir, placed down his gardening tools, and approached. Having been told that this one is unable to understand their language, he attempted to communicate using the common tongue.


His addressee’s head snapped towards him. Halatir was greatly relieved. Here at last was someone he could talk to, of a sorts.

“Hello. I…am called Halatir.” he said, struggling with the words.


‘‘My name is Tao-Shel.’’ he said while bowing from the waste, ‘‘My kin tells me you were found injured. Are you well?’’