This choice: Wake up, bound and blindfolded. • Go Back... Upon your awakening, an ominous darkness was the only thing you could see. You were lying flat against the ground, your wrists bound behind your back. In a similar vein, you realized a blindfold was placed across your eyes. This was the reason for your nullified vision. Although you had a vague idea of the situation, you began to diagnose your predicament.
You ran your hands over the material binding your wrists. It was rough leather, a common find within the wilderness. This was especially true for the various ranger bands that operated within the forests of Quel’Thalas. They wouldn’t have the luxury to return home to get supplies; everything had to be done during their missions. Following this, you ran your cheek against the ground beneath you. There was a familiar mixture of damp earth. It was clear that during the time of your incapacitation, you hadn’t left your recent domain – the forests. This came as a relief to you. If your captors had thought you to be a deserter, you would have been transported back to the capital city, Silvermoon. While there was a silent urge to go home, you couldn’t find the willpower to make that choice.
In what was nothing but an expected event, you were lifted up by your arms and dragged to an unknown location. As soon as the movement stopped, you were forced onto your knees. It was then that the blindfold came off. Your eyes adjusted to the interior of a large, dark red tent.
“Were you the one who attacked my rangers amidst their duties?” A stern-looking, female commander sat in a luxurious chair before you. While you noted her presence with a brief thought, your gaze shifted around the room to the many female rangers surrounding you. Each one wore heavy cloaks imbued with a royal crest. These were elites from Silvermoon – loyal soldiers under the authority of the ruling family. It was odd to see such them so far away from their capital. Your odds of surviving this encounter lessened with every possibility you explored.
The commander spoke up again, her voice prying your concentration apart. “I wasn’t expecting anyone to send a druid against us.”
To such a ridiculous accusation, there was only one way you could respond. “I’m not a druid.” You surmised that this was based off your furbolg companion, Lorg. Drawing your eyes away from the commander once again, you wondered whether or not Lorg escaped the wrath of these rangers. Examining the cloaked women around you, they seemed to be lacking the necessary manpower to subdue such a powerful beast. Although it was a stretch, it was safe to assume your friend had escaped harm. You had larger problems to deal with.
The commander crossed her legs, leaning back into her chair. “You’re a brave one. Even in this situation, your little eyes dart around to gather as much information as possible for your masters. What makes you think we’ll let a spy leave this camp alive?” She was growing irritable, but you had larger concerns. If you failed to dispel her accusations, you were going to die to this simple misunderstanding.
“You seem to be confusing me for your enemy. I’m from Silvermoon, the very same as you.” It was a daunting task to convince these elite rangers that you weren’t out to kill them, but you had to make an effort.
The commander blinked, her suspicions revived. “And what is a civilian doing so far out in the wilderness, with a companion capable of decimating a company of Alliance soldiers?” There was a certain amusement you felt as she kept leading the conversation back to your companion. She wasn’t going to let this go without an answer, so you decided to come clean. The problem now though, was how much information you had to reveal to clear their suspicions. You thought to start at the basics, and then work your way up from there. “Ma’am, I’m here living in exile from the capital. I’m an outcast.”
The rangers around you began to whisper amongst themselves, as if this announcement of yours was causing some kind of dissent. You couldn’t help but ponder upon the worst-case scenario. The reason you had left home was based on a promise to contain the truth behind your exile. Your friends and family were spared the embarrassment of knowing your mistakes, and your reputation stayed intact. At least, that’s how it should have been. You were curious how much these rangers knew about your situation.
The commander brought silence to the room with a sharp glare at her subordinates. It felt as if she was on to something in her interrogation, so she prodded your statement. “Just who are you?” As she asked this, every eye in the room was drawn to you. It was unnerving, but you responded with calmness that catches the commander by surprise. “I was the personal servant to the Queen of the High Elves.”
“If you once held that position, then you should be able to prove such a claim.” The commander was doubtful, but you weren’t surprised. This entire conversation played out how you thought it would, despite these elves knowing some knowledge of your exile. It wouldn’t be strange for them to hear passing rumors of a dismissed royal servant; after all, you were an important part of the Queen’s life. Such a person doesn’t disappear without a trace. The Queen must have done something to draw suspicion away from you shortly after you left the capital.
Still, you had to prove the truth behind your claims. Lies weren’t going to work, and your attempts to persuade are guaranteed to be useless. This was something you didn’t want to reveal, but had no choice. “And you shall have your proof… but I cannot do it alone.” You lowered your gaze to the commander’s boots, staying silent in your motives until the commander shifts her gaze downward in a similar fashion. She began to clue herself in on the meaning behind your stare, while the rest of the rangers continued to piece it together. A bit of nervous shifting in her chair confirmed your assumption. She knew something about you, but that only played to your success at the moment. “Please, remove your boots.”
The tent erupted with chatter as the commander obliged, taking her dirty boots off and setting them beside her chair. It looked as if a few of the younger rangers wanted to persuade their leader to ignore your suggestion, but she was responsible for your interrogation; there was no stopping here. Woolen stockings were all that remained on her feet, as the commander put her feet in front of you. The stockings encasing her feet were damp with sweat, a fact made clear to you when the subtle aroma entered your senses. Your eyes locked onto her stockings for a moment, waiting for something to trigger. Nothing happened. This wasn’t enough to prove your innocence. Now it was your turn to feel nervous.
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