Crude Summoning

Ailwin’s smirk widened ever so slightly as Jareth’s words settled between them. The mage’s reluctant surrender wasn’t unexpected; in fact, it was precisely what he had counted on. Every crack in the façade, every hesitation, was another step closer to the outcome he’d already envisioned.

He straightened, tugging his cloak tighter against the chill that seemed to creep through the room despite the raucous warmth of the tavern. His voice came softer this time, low and measured, a final turn of the screw.

There’s something you should understand before you make up your mind entirely, mage, Ailwin began, his gaze flicking briefly to the necklace still clutched in Jareth’s hand. That key I mentioned—it doesn’t just unlock a vault of riches or dusty secrets. It unlocks *our* history. My people’s history. The Elvhen.

He straightened, eyes narrowing with something far deeper than the cool detachment he had shown before. This time, his words carried a simmering anger, tempered into razor precision.

Centuries ago, before humans claimed these lands as their own, the artefact tied to that key belonged to the Elvhen. A relic of power and memory, a piece of what was taken when humans decided their dominion was worth more than our lives. His fingers tapped the bar with deliberate slowness, his tone darkening. They stole our homes, our lands, our gods. And now they lock away what little remains, as if keeping it from us could erase the truth of what they’ve done.

Ailwin’s lips pressed into a thin line before he continued, his voice sharp, a blade slipping between armor. The one who holds it now—a noble whose blood is soaked in corruption—is no different from the ones who took everything in the first place. You think I’m asking you to steal something? No. I’m asking you to *return* it. To help right a theft that has lingered far too long unchecked.

The elf let his words settle for a beat, watching Jareth’s reaction like a predator gauging the strength of its prey. Then, his voice softened, though the steel beneath remained.

You may not care about the Elvhen. I wouldn’t expect you to. But you care about that necklace, don’t you? And the questions gnawing at you from every shadow you’ve turned away from? Well, this is your chance. You help us reclaim what’s ours, and I’ll make sure you get the answers you need.

He leaned back, his earlier smirk returning, but this time it carried less mischief and more grim determination. That’s the truth of it, mage. This isn’t just a heist. It’s justice, plain and simple. So tell me—are you willing to be part of something that matters? Or will you keep chasing your tail in circles, hoping the answers fall into your lap?

@Jareth