Through the streets to Tri'lanna's home

You approach the Elven city of Elohin, observing in awe at the magnificent buildings, the ornate city gates, and the massive ivory towers, looking down on the rest of the surrounding land.

Ahead of you, two Elvish militia on guard duty bark out at you, giving warning in their musical, Elven language, and Tri'lanna strides forward confidently to speak for the group. The elfmaid exchanges a few quick words in Elvish to the militia at the gates. There are a few hand gestures, some of them towards you and Ceinwyn, and you are quickly ushered inside the citadel.

The streets of Elohin are lined with bleached cobblestones, perfectly cut into hexagons and inlaid into a visually stunning pattern that stretches as far as you can see, branching off into the various districts. There are people literally everywhere and it's all so overwhelming for you, who has never seen the big cities, but Tri'lanna knows exactly where she's going. The elfmaid leads you and Ceinwyn by the hand, through the crowd with relative ease.

All does not seem well though. Many of the city's inhabitants appear on edge, and there is an oppressive feeling in the air. The small talk on the streets is strained and the eyes of many speakers dart back and forth, giving you and others sideways glances. The tension is tightening here, in Elohin, to razor-sharp tautness. 

Noting your concern, Ceinwyn stands on her tiptoes and whispers into your ears. "It looks like not even the Elven are immune to Him."

"What do you mean?" You ask, looking directly at her.

Now that she has your full attention, the young druid shyly takes a half-step away but keeps her voice at a whisper. "Can't you feel it? The Elves. They're suspicious. Not only of us, but of each other. It's like all the people in the city are birds nesting in the same tree, and Vanarim is the woodcutter." The druidess turns her gaze outwards, towards the throng of people, "Everyone is waiting to see which way the tree will fall, and I'm sure some of them will fly towards the Pretender."

Elves allied with Vanarim. The very thought infects all your other preconceived notions of Elohin. Suddenly the Elven citadel no longer seems so amazing, and you realize that you were probably safer out in the wild than here, surrounded by potential enemies.

This increased perception of danger heightens your senses, and you start to notice something you didn't before. When you first walked into Elhoin, you were so awed by the architechture and the bustle that you were overloaded and began to take in the stimuli passively. But now that you are aware and on your toes, you can feel it now: You are being watched.

This is not the regular glances and stares that the Elves are giving you. This is purposeful. It carries malice and evil in the glare. There is someone out there in the crowd, staring at you, watching your every move, and he wants to kill you very desperately. 

You turn your head nervously, hoping to catch the onlooker, but that only causes the watcher to sink into a deeper shadow, where it seems all the more menacing.

It is a dreadful feeling, the pure hatred eminating from that glare. It's like a knife sliding across your throat, the cold steel just barely biting the surface of your skin. You feel like a hunted animal, as you scan the crowd with growing anxiety, and this sensation only grows. Only when Tri'lanna speaks up, does the feeling seem to vanish completely. Leaving you breathless in relief.

"Here we are. We've arrived. This is my," Tri'lanna pauses to clear her throat in discomfort, "home."