I have no idea what this should be called sorry
By raob9 - silver member
Submitted on January 15, 2026
Chapter 1
Chapter 1 is currently being rewritten so only the rewritten so far bits will be added as they are written.
Timbr scuttled madly through the winding tunnels, whooping excitedly, the small brown package tucked in her long, leathery hands bouncing with each step so much it seemed to be flying ahead of her. A tall, dark oak door loomed ahead of her, its heavy, gnarled wood casting a shadow on the smooth white stone. She skidded to a stop just before reaching the edge of the shadow, snatching the package from the air as it slowed too late, hovering halfway in the shadow. The shadows warped and bubbled, beginning to grow taller as though they were a bubble. She wasted no more time, skirting around the rippling shadows and dashing off to the left, her hairy bare feet slipping easily on the stones. Slowly, the ceiling began to get lower, and it felt as though she were descending. She screamed with laughter as she continued to race down the rapidly shrinking tunnel, cutting off when the end suddenly dropped, throwing her off the edge. She landed on her stomach, sliding down the steep ground, the hood of her dark green velvet coat nearly coming off before she grabbed onto it with one hand. The ground evened out again, and she threw back her head and cackled before racing onwards. The tunnel turned sharply to the right, and she tried to backpedal while turning, only managing to slam face-first into the wall. She pulled back, teetering a bit, then scampered off into the tunnels again, giggling madly. “Elf!” The cry echoed through the tunnels, seeming to echoing from all directions. Startled, Timbr collided with another wall, her maniacal laughter breaking off as her face smooshed against the stone uncomfortably. She groaned, taking a step back and unsticking her face from the stone, rubbing her head ruefully. She looked up at her ears curiously, which had twisted towards the direction she had come, starting to glow blue. Danger! Said a bit of her, buried deep inside. Run! The light is telling you where they are! Change back! She shook her head, and the voice was replaced. Sparkly lights! So funny! Said the new voice, high-pitched yet somehow deeper at the same time. She collapsed on the floor, laughing unsuppressably. Her ears glowed brighter, casting the tunnel in a cold, blue light as loud voices and angry shadows appeared around the corner she had come from. She took a step back, the grin slightly fading from her face. Run! Came a final plee from deep inside her head, and she wasted no time, adjusting her grip on the package and darting to the right, hooting madly as her ears swivelled to remain pointing towards the approaching shadows. She turned a corner, narrowly avoiding the wall. Glancing behind her excitedly, missed the window ahead, falling head first through the glass and landing with a painful thump directly on a Spart bush. She giggled madly as the thorns fought to puncture her gold, leathery skin. If only it had been Midstul, she thought giddily. Then it would have cushioned her. But it was the Staink, and the Spart bush was completely covered in thorns, several of which had managed to painfully puncture through her skin. Through the cloud over her mind, she couldn’t feel the pain, instead only finding it absolutely funny that the thorns were poking her. “Stop that elf!” Came a cry from higher in the castle, and she grumbled like a spoiled child, dragging her feet as she stepped off the bush. The cloud above her head wrenched a bit of her brain, thickening and making it difficult to think. “Stop that elf!” someone shouted again from the top of the castle. So Umbre was awake after all, she thought, the smoke in her mind twisting her instincts from survival to frustration. _____s, how much Silverstone had she wasted on that man? Dazed both from the fall and the thickening cloud in her mind, her vision cleared just in time to see two castle guards running towards her. They were dressed in the standard attire for low ranking castle guards, gold chainmail over a green vest with shoulder plates and a red helmet covering everything except their face, something about their outfits made her fall backwards, rocking on the ground and screaming with laughter. Her ears tingled, and she stopped mid-rock, looking up at her ears. Her ears had turned red as she fell, but the glow was slowly disappearing. ___ing ears, thought a weak voice in her half-conscious mind. Must have been what had brought the guards on her so quickly. With a massive effort, she pushed the smoke back, tucking it in a corner of her mind and pushing to keep it at bay, then stood up, wobbling a bit. The guards jumped at her mid-spritn, and she slipped under their groping hands easily, unhooking a knife from the back pocket of one as she darted under him. Elves were naturally fast and agile, and she silently thanked the Aspects, knowing she would’ve been caught if it hadn’t been for her inherited ability. She brandished the knife at the guards as she resurfaced, hiding the fact she was out of breath. She wouldn’t be able to avoid another confrontation like that, and besides, the smoke was slowly beginning to break through her mental barrier, little wisps escaping and clouding her vision. She hopped onto the garden wall as the guard’s heads collided with a satisfying clunk. The guards stumbled back from each other, unhooking maces from their belts and scurrying into formation. Typical, she thought. Low-ranking guards like these wouldn’t be allowed to use other weapons. Still, if they came at her she wasn’t sure if she would be able to dodge. She brandished the knife at them, then ripped off the hood, revealing her face. The guards stepped back uncertainly, glancing at their leader. “You know of me, do you not?” Timbr kept her voice carefully scratchy and chilling, then extended her hand towards the guards, the skin turning an icy white, little cracks appearing as though she were turning to stone. “Turn back. You have dabbled in things much greater than you thought.” She reached further, her voice growing more urgent. “Turn back! Turn back now!” The guards turned and ran, all except the leader, who took a step forward. “____s, but you’re only an elf!” He hoisted his halberd on his shoulder, laughing. “Put down the knife and maybe I’ll keep you alive as a pet.” Timbr gripped the knife harder. The smoke pushed at her, tempting her to let it take over. She shook her head, resolve holding the somke at bay. Fury began to light up the guard’s features, his face beginning to glow red. “I said—drop the knife, Sclav.” When she didn’t move, the red smoke thickened. Timbr could’ve sworn she saw red smoke spewing from his nostrils like a carzed bull. He pulled back the halberd, swinging it at her, and she just managed to jump away from it. The smoke gave a massive push, and she fell over the garden wall, recovering quickly and running across the courtyard, the smoke clouding her vision so she ran straight into a horse as it was being saddled. It reared in fright as she staggered back. “Close the gate!” Shouted someone behind her, and she put on a burst of speed as it began to close, her ears turning yellow with the effort. She slipped through the gate just as it ground to a halt. Too late, the pursuing guards collided painfully with the iron gate. The crowd in the marketplace swallowed her willingly, extending arms for her to lean on as she staggered, half conscious as far away as she could. Only when she was in the marketplace did the smoke finally break free, swelling through her mind. Change back! Screamed a small bit of her mind, which was pushed away as the smoke began to fill her mind. She cackled loudly, the locals surrounding her hastily averting their eyes. Your aunt—came the voice, very faint. Dimly, she saw guards pushing thourhg the crowd, undoubtedly searahcin for her. Gasping in pain, she pushed the smoke back for a moment, staggering to lean against a busy stand as inconspicuously as possible. Low-named surrounded her, forming a human barrier, pretending to be interested in the stand’s wares. She raised her hand to the side of her face as if she was scratching it. The smoke roamed free, slowly filling her mind from the top. She concentrated hard, the skin on her face beginning to pulse, faster and faster until it was a blur of gold. Slowly, the pulsing stopped, leaving an entirely different face. A long scar had appeared, stretching from the tip of her eyelid to her neck. Her eye color had changed from bright green to depp violet, and her nose was longer, more angular. A throbbing headache forced her to her hands and knees, groaning. The smoke retreated like a wounded predator, lingering for a moment before completely disappearing. The headache worsened, and she groaned loudly. A nearby passerby coughed loudly to cover it up, and she grabbed her head. It felt as though something was poking aorudn inside her mind, twisting her thoughts and memories so hard it pinched her head. Through the pain, she could barely make out a group of castle guards shoving the crowd of commoners going about shopping, nearing her. She somehow managed to stand up, blinking rapidly a few times and clenching her fists so hard her hands turned white. She grimaced as her mind gave one more twist, then stopped. The pain slowly faded away, and she released her fists hesitantly, still tense. She glanced towards the approaching guards apprehensively. They were still too far to see her clearly, but it was probably best if she moved on. She checked to make sure the package was still tucked deep into the folds of her cloak and hurried in the opposite direaction of the approaching guards, navigating the marketplace warily. You could get lost in the marketplace if you weren’t careful, and she didn’t come to this stretch very often. Even most low-named, who had been shopping in the marketplace their whole lives, only stuck to a few stalls, too scared to explore and too dependent to go somewhere else. It wasn’t uncommon for knowledge of the whereabouts of certain stalls to be passed down from generation to generation, nor was it strange for one or two stalls to rely on a single family’s purchases. Timbr was an exception. Her only family was her ancient aunt, a crazed elderly elf living on the outskirts of town, who didn’t even come into the safety of the walls at night. Her aunt had served for ___ years at the __Lord__ himself’s castle, before being forced to retire from her old age. Without a job, she had nearly starved to death before Timbr had found her. From a young age, Timbr had been forced to learn to navigate the mess of stalls in the marketplace without a relative to help, teaching herself to blend in with the other low-named, watching the elves (who were always given the lowest of names, and who made up at least half of the marketplace), poor humans, and some other races, even spotting the occasional half-blood. The advantage of not sticking to one or two stalls was that she knew many of the shop owners, and they knew her, which was useful when she needed to escape Umbre’s guards. She squinted, just making out an ancient stall ahead of her, the purple paint barely visible anymore from weark, and the wood half rotten, in many places collapsed. Her sharp ears picked out sounds of commotion, and she bit her lip. ___ing guards! How had they followed her so quickly? She hurried forward, glancing over her shoulder nervously as the firt of the palaces guards broke through a wave in the crowd. She began to run, her cloak whipping back behind her. “There she is!” shouted one of the soldiers. Timbr put on a burst of speed, her ears turning yellow. She hit the door of the purple house, a large splinter pealing off and embedding itself in her arm. She banged on the door, glancing behind her and panting from the exertion. “Stitch!” she screamed, kicking the door and using her body to slam against it as hard as she could. “Stitch Phileous! Please!” Silence emenated rom the seemingly abandoned store. She glanced behind her. The soldiers were too close. “Stitch! Open—The—Door!” The guards were on her, jumping at her. She felt a guard grab her cloak, then was pulled from his grip as the door swung open and she tumbled into the building. The door slammed shut, and she heard the bolt click into place. It was incredibly dark inside. Thick, black curtains had been draped over the windows, stopping all the light outside from filling the room. A hooded figure holding a flickering light glanced at her, then pointed upstairs silently, raising a finger to their lips. The guards began to pound on the door outside, shaking the fragile wooden frame, the aged wood threatening to give way at any moment. Timbr dropped a small bag of Browms into the waiting hands of the hooded figure, the coins clinking in his hands as he stowed them away. He nodded almost imperceptibly, and she darted up the steps To her left she spotted an ancient closet covered in a thick layer of dust. She hurried towards it, pulling on the door. It stuck for a moment, then opened up with a loud creak. She darted inside, closing it and wincing at the sound as it scraped the floor. The door burst open below seconds later. “Where is she?!” The speaker jumped up out of the rubble from the fallen door, unsheathing his shortsword and glancing around as though the elf he had been purusing would jump out from the shadows. The marks on his uniform identified him as a Captain, maybe a ____ Name. He glanced at the rest of his companions, still lying in a heap and groaning. “Get—Up!” He aimed a kick at the nearest, who jumped to his feet, rubbing the side of his body ruefully and muttering darkly. “Where’s that blasted elf?” snapped the Captain, Fury pouring from his body in a dark, red mist. Phileous got to his feet, stumbling backwards as he fought to keep his balance on the uneven rubble. His lamp lay on the ground, extinguished, leaving the building incredibly dark except for the light coming from the doorway. The only other light came from the Fury mist now spreading beyond the captain’s body. Phileous managed to step onto more even ground, then slowly looked up at the looming captain. “S-sir--? I—” He began, then cut off as the captain pushed him aside, peering through the darkness. The rest of the guards were slowly recovering, getting to their feet slowly, a few even beginning to glow slightly with Fury. The captain took a step into the darkness, batting away Phileous’s cowering figure. “Blast it.” Snapped the captain. “Get some ___ing light in here. There aren’t any other exits – this store goes right up to the wall. She can’t have left the building.” He glanced at the still guards. “Go!” A few guards jumped to their feet, hurrying to cut down the curtains and let in more light, others striking Lightorbs and holding them up. The captain spun on Phileous, Fury spinning in the air and distorting the shadows unnaturally. Phileous shrank down, huddling in his tattered coat on the floor. “You – tailor. Tell us where the elf is and we won’t kill you.” Phileous whimpered, and the captain slapped him, hard, on the head, the metal gloves leaving red marks on the elf’s face. “Tell us where she is! Now!” The captain shouted, emphasizing his words with a well-aimed kick, propelling Phileous halfway across the room. Phileous cowered as the captain stomped over towards him, his heavy footsteps echoing around the building. “M-milord – y-y-you m-must have mistook m-my son for wh-whomever it is y-you seek, I—he does tend to make dramatic entrances at times, but I assure you he h-has never broken the l-law – he likely mistook you f-for some of his fri-friends…” Phileous trailed off, glancing up at the captain before quickly casting away his eyes as the captain kicked him again. “Do not lie to me, Sclav. I distinctly saw an elf wearing a dark green cloak enter your shop, obviously running from—” The captain paused, glancing up as a shadowy figure began to descend the staircase, their footsteps echoing in the suddenly silent building. The rest of the gurads slowly stopped their searching, looking up at the staircase. They paused at thea edge of the staircase, and through the dim light a dark green cloak could be made out, trailing oer their shoulders. They seemed to be checking for something in their pocket, then straightened, throwing back their hood. The light was too dim to make out their face clearly, but their voice was unmistakably male. “You won’t believe this, Ada!” The figure threw back their head and cackled, then seemed to forcefully collect themselves. “Benta and Soiler followed me here dressed up as – as—soldiers…” They stopped, seeming to notice the guards for the first time. They smircked, suppressed a snicker, then shook their head and glanced at Phileous uncertainly. “Ada…? What—what’s going on? I—” they paused, chuckling knowingly, then cut himself off and stopped talking. The Fury surrounding the captain was slowly growing, forming a thick red cloud around him. Phileous glanced up uncertainly. “C-captain, s-sir, this is m-my s-son, M-mirth, w-who y-you may have mist—mistook for…” He trailed off from the steely glare the captain gave him. “Come where I can see your miserable face, sclav.” Snapped the captain, and the figure stepped forward nervously. The light fell across an elve’s face, with tall ears and an angular nose. He had sharp eyelids, and a long scar running from the tip of his eyelid to his neck. His eyes were a brilliant orange, with hints of red, and his teeth were much too white for his dark skin. “Sir -- milord, as you can see—” Phileous started, breaking off in alarm as the elf standing before them laughed madly again before shaking their head and composing themselves. “As you can see, this is simply my son, Mirth, whom you may have mistook for – who was obviously wrong to confuse her as he looked similar to someone else…” The captain grunted, stepping up to Mirth and slapping him smartly across the face. Instead of recoiling, Mirt hshrieked with derisive laughter, then raised his hand as if he were about to strike the captain likewise. Phileous gave a leap, catching Mirth’s hand in the air. “What’s this?” snapped the captain scornfully. “A sclav dare raise his hand against me?” The captain thrust the end of his sword at Mirth, the tip poking Mirth’s neck. “You – an elf, dare try to rise aboave your rank? I ought to kill you right here!” He pressed the sword harder, drawing a faint trickle of blood. Mirth’s eyes darted widely. The captain’s Fury swirled around him, twisting his arms madly. “P-pleaes m-milord, Mirth is not himself, he was, erm, cursed, with one of Ambition’s les prestigious names. He lapses into insanity, please my lord, forgive him, he means no harm, he simply…” Phileous lost his nerve, scuttling backwards and bowing his head as he retreated back into the shadows. The captain held his sword at Mirth’s neck for a moment, then snorted, turning away derisively. “Let’s go, men. No need to waste time on ____ing sclav, elves no less.” He spat on the ground, walking towards his men. “Solder!” shouted the Captain without breaking stride. One of the guards snapped to attention even though he was behind the Captain. “Sir?” The captain sheathed his sword, pausing at the doorway. “Report to Umbre: Captain Shimmer has found and executed the perpetrator to his gardens.” The soldier Captain Shimmer had called, Solder, paused uncertainly. “But… Sir… we haven’t… well, we haven’t caught them, have we?” Captain Shimmer spun, slapping Solder smartly on the cheek, the metal spikes on his gloves leaving stripes of blood on Solder’s cheek. Solder swallowed, his hand touching his cheek gently. He winced, stepping back and bobbing down slightly. “Yes, sir. Your message will be delivered.” Solder turned, stepping over the broken wood and beginning to make his way to the palace, disappearing from view in moments. The other guards filed out of the stall, pausing outside and waiting for Captain Shimmer. Captain Shimmer paused in the hole of where the door had been, his voice dripping with disgust. “As for you, sclav, I’d be sure to have your son under control next time he’s off wandering around the marketplace. Next time, I might not be so forgiving. If he can’t work, there’s always space in the Nameless caverns. He snorted, casting one last scathing glance at Mirth and Phileous before turning away. Phileous bowed low, even though Captain Shimmer’s back was to him. “Y-yes, m-my lord, I will do so immediately…” Mirth let out a bark of laughter and ran upstairs, the sound of a door slamming echoing throughout the building. “I-in fact, my lord… I ought to do as you suggested now… Please, sir, excuse me.” Philous bowed again, then began to clomp up the unstable stairs, leaning heavily on the railing. Captain Shimmer hesitated, then snorted in disgust, shaking his head and ignoring the nagging feeling in the back of his mind. The last wisps of Fury disappeared from his broad shoulders as he stepped out of the door, rallying his guards and beginning to push through the crowd, the low-named ducking their heads and hurriedly parting to let him through before replacing the empty space quickly and returning to their business. The nagging doubt in the back of Captain Shimmer’s mind grew, and he paused in the middle of the crowd, Fury beginning to emerge around him, twisting and turning as it thickened. He began to push through the crowd back towards the purple stall, calling over his shoulder for his guards. He’d heard that laugh before, hadn’t he? The elf that had infiltrated Umbre’s castle had laughed exactly like that when he was chasing them in the tunnels! The crowd seemed less willing to part for him now, and he unslung his Flail, swinging it around his head, forcing the low-named to duck and run as he cleared a path to the purple building.
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