[mrwakka]

Aelinthaldaar, Illefarn – 1845
The Elven capital was rocked by news that quickly swept the streets. Murder, intrigue, secret conspiracies, and scandalous behavior. Lord Voltoeux was no more, his murderers were his children. The more the guards pulled at the threads the more the secrets of the house unraveled, and the many repugnant practices that had seen the house rise to authority and influence over the centuries. Thievery the least among their crimes, which included blackmail, murder, smuggling, slavery, and more besides among them. It would seem if there was a crime to commit, a law to break, then over its rise house Voltoeux had done so.

For murder most foul, the murderers would have been put to death, save for the mitigating circumstances that the late Lord Voltoeux in addition to being a criminal, had abused his children severely for years.

Forgiveness was not possible, but mercy was. Instead of being put to death they were exiled, the entire house as a whole.

Excerpt of the Records of the Court of Aelinthaldar – 1845, 11th Kythorn. Trial of Vyell ‘Alatar’ Voltoeux.
Scribes Note: Certain profanities have been omitted from these records, so as not to offer offense to the gods which were blasphemed, notably Labelas Enoreth, and Vandria Gilmadrith.

Minister Aelwyn: Have you no words in your defense?
Vyell Voltoeux: He was a ______, his predations upon my kin were _____ _____ ____, and given the chance I’d have ____ ____ like Lebelas empty eye socket.
Minister Aelwyn: Then I am afraid you leave us little choi—
Vyell Voltoeux: ____ you and that _____ Vandria you worship. You act like we haven’t met, or you didn’t partake in *Lines scratched out*.
Minister Aelwyn: Silence! Strike his last words from the record. Vyell Voltoeux, you have shown yourself remorseless for the heinous murder of your namesake, and you are hereby sentenced to death.
Lord Riall: A moment if you will!
The gathered lords engaged in a privileged discussion.
Minister Aelwyn is called over, and hears their words.
Minister Aelwyn: Very well then, you are exiled on pain of death.
Minister Aelwyn: Send in the next Voltoeux.


Hadrian, Low Netheril – 1852
Alatar looked out on the city before him, a coin spinning in his mind. The coin had been spinning so long, growing ever louder and more present the longer he lingered in one place. But here... something was different, and when finally he crossed those gates and found himself in the city of Hadrian, the coin stopped. The suddenness stunned him momentarily,and he quietly cursed himself for not knowing which side the coin landed on.

"Here brothers, here is where we begin anew..."

[mrwakka]

Hadrian, Low Netheril – 1852
Alatar found himself growing accustomed to the city of Hadrian, but also increasingly ill-content. His brother had easily acclimated to the locals, and was eagerly pursuing his training, for that Alatar was grateful. For himself though he wasn't sure about his place in this world, he considered dabbling in a variety of pursuits, from fishing, to wand crafting, but it all still felt hollow.

He had for awhile felt contented with the turmoil surrounding the election, there was promise there, a chance for advancement for his family in the chaos. Then his candidate had disappeared without trace, and quickly he found his footing shifting quickly beneath his feet. He had worked to shore that up, found allies, but he felt... unfulfilled. For a moment, even if he had been but of the furthest fringes he had felt what it had once been like; he could sense the strings a fingers breadth away, and he wanted to pull those strings and watch the marionettes dance.

For now he settled for the fish on his line, but he needed to find inroads to the greater game.