As the motley band travelled along the Elven road, no further resistance barred their way. Through the remnants of the morning they walked, and and long after noonday's passing. Taylen, as before, led their way, though there were few places where the road's worn path could not be easily followed by even a city-spoiled gentleman or lady. Freya stayed aloft of the trail, as often did Saeessira and Drakkenclaw, each for their own reasons. As the day passed, Ariana grew ever more social towards Silvan and Jean, while Aust traded wanderer's tales with Taylen. No caravans passed, and the woods seemed hardly to notice the passing of four elves, a fellin, a daysprite, a halfling, and a lizardman.
As the group neared the city, Freya kept her word, and broke away from the group. She promised to wait for her long-time elven friend near Destindeterre's southern borders. The remainder of the group walked on, until Taylen told them they had reached their destination.
Most in the group looked around with confusion. Where the city dwellers expected to see rising stone walls, or at the least rows of wooden houses, there appeared to be nothing but forest. The trail petered off into nothingness, leaving no sign that a city had ever been there, let alone that one remained. Only Silvan and Taylen appeared to retain their bearings. Taylen sat down on the ground, while Silvan leaned against a tree, and pulled out his spellbook. "I hate this part," he said in a sideways comment to Ariana, who appeared even more lost than most of the group, if such a thing was possible. Drakkenclaw, preoccupied with the sudden disappearance of the beaten path, began to search for signs of whatever the group had been headed for, and wandered off among the trees.
Nearly an hour passed, and the evening began to grow dim through the trees. Finally, a voice called out, "What good souls seek the Elvenland?" The voice, though loud and sturdy, had a softness to it. The voice belonged to a woman. Taylen answered, "We are a band of weary travelers, come for supplies and perhaps beds for the night." "Then I am afraid I must disappoint you," the voice answered. "We have no supplies to spare in these strange times, and though beds we have to spare, we shall not open our gates this eve for so trivial a desire. You may rest where you now reside."
Taylen shook his head, but Silvan grew irritated. He shouted up at the trees, one hand braced against a tree while the other hooded his eyes, searching for signs of the hidden speaker. "If the pride land of the Elven kingdom cannot offer safe haven to its own kindred, then I no longer know this land. Yet if truly that is your concern, then I must ask what has become of the estates to which I am entitled. Silvan Koras now announces his presence here!"
"Silvan? Is... is that you?" the voice answered, wavering slightly. Without warning, a head emerged from the foliage above, followed by the body of a sleekly built elven woman in fine leather garb, and from all appearances hanging upside-down from some branch. She stared for a brief moment at Silvan, then shouted gleefully, "It is you! Lithan, Tedrea, we have guests!" The woman curled forward, disappearing into the branches again. For a moment, there was silence again. Then, between a pair of tall trees, a glimmer formed, then slowly took shape into a pair of shimmering silver gates. The curls of metal appeared almost as if grown from silver vines, netted and entwined with scores of leaves concealing any gap or void. Without a sound, the shimmering gates swung open.
A long ramp, composed of knitted branches and lined on either side with rows of tree trunks, led upward from behind the gates, and curved off into places unseen. Only through the open gates could the travellers see signs of the rising path, and when they looked aside and upward to follow its path, the trees revealed nothing but foliage and the distant light of sunset. Silvan was the first to step forward, followed by Taylen. One by one, the others gathered the courage to make their way through the gates and upward. "Hey, where's the tall fellow," Jean asked, as he noticed Drakkenclaw had not followed them through the gates. But the lizardman was nowhere in sight, and the gates closed behind them.
Drakkenclaw could find no sign of the of the city, nor could he find his companions upon his return. Though he recalled the spot, and found signs that they had remained there for a time, their trail simply seemed to lead off, or perhaps they doubled back. Either way, he could not easily find them. Recalling that the fellin had broken with the group before its arrival, he decided to seek her. Perhaps she would know how to find her companions.
Freya, meanwhile, had already made her way around to the southern border of the elven city. Despite the natural appearance, she still felt somewhat uncomfortable being so close to where she knew the trees had been taken. She decided that, though she would normally take refuge in the branches, she would rather avoid intruding on the elven city. She found a small clearing, and began to settle in for the night. A rustling in the nearby foliage disturbed her. As she perked her ears and began looking around for the source of the noise, it slowly grew louder. The sun began to set, and Freya realized all too late that a haze had formed around her. She swung around in time to dodge the blow of a club, but four more descended upon her, and she could not avoid them all. With none of her companions to aid her, fear and pain overcame Freya, and for the second time in as many days, the world she knew passed into darkness.
At the sound of a wild beast's cry, Drakkenclaw whirled suddenly. It had come from not far off, and sounded somehow familiar. Despite his own better judgement, he ran for the source of the noise, and suddenly found himself engulfed in fog. Something whizzed passed him, and another object glanced off his leg. He was under attack, simply from his presence! No creature of the wild would stand idle against a threat of its life, and neither would he. The lizardman let out a roar of his own, and opened into a fury of blows. Moments later, as the fog cleared, only two figures remained standing. Drakkenclaw cluched his side, which dripped with blood. The other figure glared at him through two glowing eyes.
"You should not meddle in affairs you cannot understand," the man growled, his voice too deep and loud even for one of his stature. With Drakkenclaw slightly hunched from his wounds, the two stood even in height. "My brother was merciful. He let you live. You will not find me so preoccupied." He took a step towards Drakkenclaw, and raised his arm to strike. Before he could land a blow, the air began to whistle, and a flurry of arrows landed around him. Thrice three arrows broke the air, half making their mark, though only one landed true. The man harldy flinched. "Savor this day, child," the voice boomed, as the man turned and walked away, "for it shall not come again." Fog once again closed around the figure, and he was gone.
Ten men stepped out from the nearby foliage into the clearing. Nine elves, all armed with bows, and a human clad in cloth over mail, toting a shield with a bright emblem of the sun emblazed across it.
As your journey neared the forest's edge, you found that each new town you visited had the same dark tidings to tell. Frequent raids had left towns in near ruins, and the local militias depleted of resources and manpower. It seems the raiders took not only resources. With each raid, people had gone missing, and few dared leave their homes at night. Some villages had even converted their keeperless shops and vacant inns into housing for those who no longer felt safe on outlying farms. All indications pointed west, into the woodlands. These rogues were using the trees for cover.
It took several weeks to find anyone willing to lead you through the woodlands. A group of elven rangers had stopped for supplies, and found themselves driving off the raiders. You stayed the day helping tend to the wounded, and when they departed, they agreed to take you with them. "We could use a cleric, even if you are young yet."
The journey was not what you would call pleasant. Rangers can make a grueling pace through the woods, and you found yourself strained to keep up. You were glad for rest once the sun fell, but your relief proved short lived. Stories say that elves do not eat nor sleep, and at least part of this tale is true. Further your limits were tested, and by late day, you found your energies spent. Yet providence showed you favor, and the elves halted, seemingly in the middle of nowhere. "We are here," one of them told you, "and here we must wait until the wayguard calls." You took the time to say your evening prayers. The elves' pace had forced you to miss the day's earlier rites, so you began from the dawn.
You got as far as finishing the noontime prayers, and just as you were about to begin the rites of sunset, a painful cry ripped through the forest. Again, the elves took off with a bolt. And for the first time since your departure, you went with them not for your own sake, but for the cause of the Shining One. The elves gain ground, and by the time you catch up, they have stepped into a small clearing, where a lizardman stands surrounded by bodies. One fellin woman lies prone, her wounds shoddily bound. The others, orcs all, do not even appear wounded, yet they lie unmoving in positions not natural to anyone who walks on two feet.
Following the fire, you thought your life could not get any more miserable. It seems you were wrong. Although you were the rightful and only heir to your father's estate, you arrived at the pier to find another trader's marker on the docks, and his same flag upon all your father's ships. Next you went to the magistrate. "Your father accrued many debts in the short time before his passing," the magistrate told you. "As have many others in recent times. With the fleets of Terranada occupied, they have employed the services of private escorts. There is nothing I can do to help you, save to say that a small portion of your estate still remains. Your father kept one warehouse under the name of a dwarven partner, Do'katan. He might be willing to help you get back on your feet."
The magistrate's words left you in shock. Yet you managed to gather wits enough to visit Do'katan. A gruff man with a full beard, he seemed pleasant enough. "Yer father was a good man, lass. He kept me cargo on the high seas, and I al'ays seen a good coin fer me stake in th' dealin's. I still 'as 'oldin's in th' east district. If ye're fixin' te move on, take whate'er ye need." And you did exactly that.
You boarded the first caravan you could find, and soon were on your way to the elven lands. The elves you knew had been fair folk even to those in hard times, and you hoped the same would hold true for you. "Times fare better or worse for all folk in time," your elven tutor had told you. "Treat all people fairly, and if ever your places are reversed, they will treat you in kind." As you rode in the caravan wagon, your thoughts strayed back to those days, and hoped all their kind thought that way.
Three days into your trip, you looked up from re-re-rereading your spellbook, and saw something slip away from the wagon and beneath a small bridge. As you leaned forward to get the wagon driver's attention, however, loud cries came out of the woods. Chaos followed. Bright lights flashed in a rainbow across the caravan, and many of the guards fell to the ground. Then a fog fell. You quickly gathered the most important of your belongings, and fled blindly into the woods. As you listened, the cries slowly died down, then ceased altogether. After a while, you took a chance, and looked around the tree that hid you.
The caravan was gone. Not a soul remained, nor a single cart, nor a scrap of material. With no other options, you returned to the trail, and began to walk. You walked all afternoon, and all night. By the morning, you had still found no signs of even a village. Tired and hungry, you sat down by a tree, and fell asleep.
Now you awaken on something soft. As you open your eyes, you can see a hood of leaves above you. A woman's voice humms a tune you have never heard before.
Though you managed to defeat your attackers, the battle took its toll. The strange man has disappeared, and in his stead, you find yourself confronted with ten others. Nine are elven, clad in similar garb to what Taylen wore. The tenth, a human, wears garments the likes of which you have not seen before. Part of his garb resembles a larger version of the scales which form your own skin. Atop that, he wears cloth of bright colors and patterns with which you are not familiar. Whether they are friend or foe, it hardly seems to matter. You are too badly wounded, and can do nothing on your own behalf.
Falaanla, Reyolen, Taylen
As you reach the top of the ascending ramp, you find yourself in a city unlike any other. Homes formed from knitted living branches and awnings of lush green leaves lie in all directions, connected by winding paths and vine ladders. Elven folk walk all about, tending the plants, and going about their affairs much as one might see in a city of wood and stone. Though each of you has seen this place before, seeing it again still leaves you briefly in awe of its beauty.
And thus we come to the third chapter of our adventure. Welcome to Destindeterre, city of the Elves.
Hopefully Freya will get to join into the activity soon. There was no way to make this a soft transition for her.
Ground much softer... warm and dry, no tree roots digging into back... ahhh..
Slowly she wakes up, and notices the soft female voice humming away, a strange tune that she does not recognise, and she props herself up a bit, taking in more of her surroundings, and without looking reaching beside her for her spellbook, her mind slowly waking following the suit of her body...
She turns her head to the source of the humming,
Great start (well start for me) 'Doc!
[ 01-14-2003: Message edited by: Dr. Pvednes, PhD ]
I have no ability to fight this force, he sighs as he stares towards the ground. These scavengers will have an easy time stripping this area bare.
"I hope you understand common... don't try to talk... I'm going to go check on the others... drink from this... it should make you feel better until I can check on you... don't be afraid... I'm a healer"
Holding the waterskin out, he moves forward 3 paces before placing the waterskin on the ground. He then backs away, and circles around to check on the Fellin woman. [ 01-14-2003: Message edited by: Janus Krug ]
[ 01-14-2003: Message edited by: Janus Krug ]
"Good evening, lass," the voice answers cheerily. As you look around, you notice an orange figure with black stripes wearing a loosely draped pink apron over a white knee-length skirt. "Don't worry, dear, your things are on the shelves. Can't say as I've ever been much for reading, myself. Words are such fleeting things," she muses, tending over something out of your sight. The air smells of cornbread.
You do not find your spellbook beside you. As you feel around, your hand finds only more of the same soft substance, with the feel of fur to it. Your bed seems warm, as if someone had slept beside you, and though you can see no fireplace, there is a warmth to the air about you. The room is perhaps twenty feet across, dome-shaped, with a covering of dense thatched branches and leaves. Your eyes have not yet found the floor.
The elves glance at each other, and whisper quietly amongst themselves. Eventually, they lower their bows somewhat, and spread out along the edge of the clearing, glancing back at you on occasion, but mostly keeping their eyes on the surrounding woods.
From your cursory inspection at this closer range, you notice that the fellin is female, and very badly wounded. Bandages on her leg and around her abdomen have become blood-soaked, and a gash in her left ear remains untreated. Her protective leatherwear appears worn and tattered, and one of her legs looks as if it has three bends to the other's two.
"It's a shame I don't have a healer's kit, so I'm afraid that my meager magics and skills will have to do" Gavin says cheerfully to the comatose Fellin, moving towards her injured side, wiping his hands as clean as possible on the fabric part of his clothes. Gingerly, he lifts the blood-soaked bandages, and carefully probes the wound to determine just how deep it is, and removes any dirt or leaves that got in.
"The leg and ear wounds might be painful, but you'll understand if I treat this one first. Can't have you dying of blood loss before I learn your name, now can we?"
Satisfied that the wound is clean, Gavin moves to her bandaged leg, and repeats the process of cleaning the wound and checking it. Moving next to her broken leg, he gingerly holds it in his left hand, running his right across the length lightly, testing to see how badly broken it is.
Though you manage to clean out the debris from the fellin's wounds, your actions may yield more harm than good. The injury to her side was layered with fresh leaves, and now that you have uncovered it, it begins to bleed again. Her leg wound proves not as grievous, though the wound appears crippling, and will need proper attention before she can walk. You can tell little about the fellin's broken leg, though it seems not to have pierced the skin.
Fortunately, for all her injuries, there remains a ray of hope. Despite her injuries, faint breath escapes the fellin's lungs, and you can feel the shallow rise and fall of her chest as you tend to cleaning her wounded abdomen.
Picking it up, Drakkenclaw pulls himself into a roughly "sitting" position and begins to examine the pouch. He removes its cap, and lightly sniffs its contents, before muttering in a hoarse croak.
"Mmm, where am I? May I ask your name?"
Her stomach growls noticably, the scent of the air playing on her hunger.
Oof, that mustn't make the best impression. Then again nor does being found discheveled underneath a tree. Oh well, she seems friendly enough, bringing me to her home... ...mmm cornbread.
She props herself up further, sitting up properly now.
[ 01-15-2003: Message edited by: Dr. Pvednes, PhD ]
"Oh mighty Pelor, giver of light, giver of life, thy humble servant calls upon thee. This child before me lies near death, and I have naught the ability to save her without thy blessing. I call upon thee to grant me a tiny amount of they blessed love, so that I might heal this one and she may once again walk under your peaceful gaze."
His prayer complete, Gavin claps twice, then places his hands firmly upon her chest, avoiding the actual wound. Focusing upon his teachings, he opens himself up to the light of his god, and chants. The words are mystical, designed to call upon Pelor for a blessing of healing, the most powerful one a man of his simple faith can call upon. Quickly and intricately, Gavin moves his fingers, forming the patterns taught to him by the high priests, a beseechment to Pelor for power. [ 01-15-2003: Message edited by: Janus Krug ]
[ 01-15-2003: Message edited by: Janus Krug ]
The fellin woman lets out a small giggle, "Oh goodness, poor dear. Your own mind and body squabble with each other. Well, that's easy enough to fix." She turns around, holding a large ceramic bowl against her side with one arm. With her other hand, she grasps the handle of a gnarled wooden cane. Her face is laced with thin black stripes, and her eyes appear tired, but you can see no other signs of her age.
As you sit up, the bed beneath you lets out a small puffing hiss, and bobs beneath you. "Hush, Boltat. You'll get some too," the woman scolds in a playful tone, though she continues to look directly at you.
For a few seconds, nothing seems to happen. Then, you feel a warmth in your chest, and you hear the fellin's slow breathing as if it blew heavily through your own lungs. The warmth spreads, reaching out across your chest, and down through your arms. Your hands begin to feel hot, then suddenly a pulse flows through your body, pushing the gathered warmth out through your hands, and into the fellin woman's body. She stretches out like a rod, then inhales heavily, her chest rising under your hands.
You awaken with a sudden jolt. A warmth flows through you from head to toe, painful at first, and the image of a lightning bolt crosses your mind. Soon the warmth fades, leaving behind a soft tingling sensation. You can feel no more pain. For a moment your head swims, and your arms and legs feel light. Then, as your body relaxes, you are finally able to open your eyes.
And the first thing you see is a light-skinned human kneeling over you, with his hands on your breasts.
It appears that the human has turned his attention to your gravely wounded companion. The elves also appear momentarily distracted. They have circled around you. After a moment, two of the elves from opposite sides of the clearing turn towards the center of the clearing. The others step in to fill the space.
They stop on opposite sides of you, and begin conversing in a soft language you don't recognize. Each one speaks in turn, neither interrupting the other, each talking in short statements. One turns to the elves around the circle, "Lorin, he has gone."
The other of the two elves who approached then turns to you, "You need not fear us, soldier of Terranada."
"t-Thank you.." she says shortly, glancing again wide-eyed at the creature that had been her bed, "And you too.."
She quickly stands up, smiling at the Fellin, meeting her gaze.
"Are you alright? Don't try to move too quickly, you were very badly injured..."
Standing, Gavin holds his hand out in greeting.
"My name is Gavin. What's yours?
At the words of the elf, Drakkenclaw turns to respond - before being interrupted by the shout of Freya. He swings his head in that direction, watching surprised as the fellin struggles strongly with the human over you.
"What... what did you... do to her?" he speaks in a strained voice.
Her breath calms down some, she turns to look at the human, stareing at his hand then back to his face. "Injurrred.. You heal me..?"
For those of you who just entered Destindeterre, I'll be posting more for you in a day or two if you don't act on your own before then. Meanwhile...
You find that you have no difficulty at all rising to your feet. The human offers no resistance to your motion. Not only that, but you have a vague recallection of your legs buckling from beneath you, and now they don't hurt at all. In fact, nothing hurts, even the wounds that had not fully healed from the day before. You feel refreshed, as if you had slept for a night, but the sun has moved only a short distance in the sky, now just before sunset.
When you glance over at Drakkenclaw, several other figures catch your eye. All of them appear elven, and all similarly clad in leather armor, with longbows in their hands and quivers at their hips. One stands a pace away from the lizardman on either side. The rest walk in a slow circle around the edge of camp, their eyes mainly on the trees.
Drakkenclaw appears to be in poor shape. He has several wounds, and his cloak is tattered and torn. One of his eyes has swolen, and is stuck in a squint. His body remains low to the ground. Whatever attacked you may have gotten to him as well, or perhaps he got to it. Though you cannot be certain of events, the pile of dead orcs surrounding your armor-skinned companion gives a fairly clear indication.
Once you stand, the "bed" gives off a hearty grunt, and rises onto four thick furry legs. It flails its torso from side to side like a dog shaking water from its fur, but much slower. As the creature lifts its head, you realize that you have been sleeping on a large, brown-furred bear. The creature yawns loudly with its head raised, then begins to walk towards the moss-curtained doorway.
The woman walks towards the doorway as well, bowl in hand. Her cane clacks lightly on the treebranch floor as she goes along. "Come on, dear, we'll eat outside while the daylight lingers. Once you've had your fill, I'll tell you everything I can." She steps through the curtain, brushing it aside with her cane. The bear follows behind her, sniffing the air.
"He has done nothing that did not need doing," the same elf who spoke to you before now says to you. He takes a moment to look you up and down, taking a step to one side, then checking you again. Then he adds, "As grievous as your condition may be, you remain standing. The fellin did not have such a luxury. Now, if you would consent to hold still for a few moments, I will tend to your wounds."
The other elf who approached you now appears distracted. His eyes are on your companion and the human who stands beside her. All the rest continue to slowly circle the clearing, giving no more than cursory glances in your direction. Freya has gotten to her feet, and rather quickly. You can discern enough of their dialogue to guess that they are uncertain of each other, and have not met before.
Reyolen, Taylen, Falaanla
For a moment, none of your companions speak. "It's beautiful," Ariana whispers finally in the Elven tongue, "like a dream." Aust takes a few steps forward, "So this what eastern elven cities look like," he muses aloud, though he speaks in Common. "Everything is so peaceful here. If only every place could be like this, maybe the world wouldn't need war."
Jean, meanwhile, has busied himself tying his rope to a branch jutting out from the side of the walkway. "Taylen, do you still have those kits we found?" the halfling asks. "I'd like to have a little looksee at something."
You feel Ithar fidget in your bag, as you hover near the top of the spiral ramp. In a cheerful yet tired tone, you hear your companion ask, "Is the there here yet? I hungry."
Silvan thinks back to when he was last living here, trying to recall where any places of interest to a group such as he has with him would be. He tries to recall forges, weapon smiths, armor smiths, general stores, taverns, herb/spell shops, inns, and any other places that the people in the group might need. He especially concentrates on remembering where he lived and the inn that he had stayed and worked at for so long. That is where he planned to stay. While thinking about the places, he also tries to spot anyone who he might remember amongst the elves and people walking through the streets periodically. [ 01-16-2003: Message edited by: Reyolen ]
[ 01-16-2003: Message edited by: Reyolen ]
Her gaze goes back to the lizardman. Slowly she walks over to him, kneeling. "I heal you, alrrright?" She asks him, remembering a breif recollection of his reaction towards something else.
Change always came slowly in the Elven city. You have seen these paths and many others in your youth. You stand at one of three entrances to the city: west, east, and north. Once within the city's bounds, living walkways connect all parts of the city, some wider than others, and none trailing off to an end. Though each building exists as its own platform along the walkways, the city can be divided into four basic tiers.
All three entries lead to the lowest tier, which is lined with small homes and sparse shops selling the most basic goods. A pair of intertwined spiraling paths, wound around a great oak, leads to the upper tiers. For a quicker route, the city is laced with runged vine ladders which can be pulled up or dropped at need.
The second tier holds more homes, some larger than others, along with arboretums, playgrounds and parks, schools, various shops, and the city's three meeting halls. Your family lived there as well, in a larger home towards the southeastern edge of the city.
Most of the city's industry lies on the third tier. Though the city does not mine its own metals, several metal forges on the third tier's eastern edge refine imported steel, and mold it into tools and weapons which cannot be made from more natural materials. On the south side, the Peaupinar produces many of the armors worn by rangers and druids. Fletchers and other craftsmen keep larger shops throughout the tier. Nearer the city's center, warehouses hold stores of all sorts of raw materials, useful items, and foods besides those which grow naturally throughout the city.
The fourth and uppermost tier, secured by mystical gates akin to those at the city's entrances, has only a single building... the Felesancienna. Libraries of lore and magical artifacts line its many halls, with spellbooks of ancient wizards. You have been there only once, when you were younger. It remains one of the clearest memories of your father.
Though the four tiers of Destindeterre lie one atop another, the buildings in each are spread out, and many enchantments lay upon the trees, allowing a cool light to reach all places within the city, and flowers to bloom anywhere they are set to soil.
Most of the faces you see around you appear vaguely familiar, though you can recall few names. You have been too long away from your childhood home, and where it has changed little, you have lived in a far busier existence. As you reflect, however, one face does call itself to your mind. The wayguard who dropped from the trees seemed to know you, and as your mind strives to recall the details of your former life, a name joins with her face. Elysia Eveningglory had hardly sixty-two years to her name when you left Destindeterre, and though she has grown into a fine young woman, you can still remember the boisterous child she once was. Her family lived not far from yours.
She takes a short look at the interior of the fellin's home again, then follows out with the bear and fellin, sniffing herself when she thinks they're not looking.
[ 01-17-2003: Message edited by: Dr. Pvednes, PhD ]
"The others left the trail. I could not find their tracks. So I came here, to you."
He looks down at the tatters of his robe, and the blood on his side.
"I was surprised by these hunters. They attacked, and I fought back. They did not retreat when their position was lost, as predators should." The lizardman scans the bodies of the orcs around the area. "So they ended as fallen."
He closes his eyes, speaking softly in between small, deep breaths.
"I survived this hunt, and therefore should live. You fight the measured progress of nature by attempting to speed my recovery, though."
He opens his eyes, and looks up at both the fellin and the elf.
"Creatures of the wild have a strong urge to preserve themselves, and so should I if I am to follow them. If you continue to offer me this travesty, I shall accept it. But I ask that you do not."
"Yes, Ithar, we are here...And what a beautiful place "here" is. I am sure there is some good food here, maybe we should go find some. But you have to promise me you wont go take any food that I don't give you! Don't want to make any of these elves mad at us!"
She then chuckles
"For that matter, don't take anything at all unless I give it to you, at least not for the time being. I'll let you know if we need to...er...borrow anything...later."
Taylen? You there?
Even after the fellin woman and her bear exit the room, the smell of cornbread lingers in the air. The room itself appears sparsely furnished. One wall, where the fellin had been tending her bowl, appears inset with several alcoves. Among these, you find a set of shelves, a coat closet holding a single light cloak, and a counter with four large, dimly glowing flower buds on it. Most of your remaining possessions sit on the shelves, including your spellbook, neatly tucked away beside your merchant scale.
As you step outside, the fellin woman waits for you. She sits on one of three mushroom stools surrounding a small round table of netted branches. Two clay plates rest upon the table, each with a lump of golden bread surrounded by an array of delicious-looking fruits. The large bear has laid down to one side of the doorway, its face buried in the fellin woman's bowl. A soft light permeates the foliage high above you.
Drakkenmaw, Aanile, Janus Krug
The second elf in the pair, who had been watching the fellin and human so intently, now smiles, "A druid, ey? Well, that does fold matters a bit. Let the lady have a going at it, Velmoor. If she's worth her salt, a touch of nature's gift will help more than anything you or I could offer."
"Alright," the other elf replies, "they seem to know each other anyhow." The two of them step back, meeting near the edge of the clearing. Another one of their companions steps away from her circling patrol to speak with them quietly.
Elysia was not among the people going about their various tasks near the entrance. She was the one who ducked down through the trees. When she finally does approach, you catch her long before she reaches the rest of the group. Two other elves are with her, one male, one female. The two of them give you a funny look as you introduce yourself (again), then walk on towards the rest of the group, leaving you and Elysia standing alone.
She giggles. "If I didn't recognize you, Silvy, you might still be idling around by the entrance. Where have you been all this time? Causing trouble, I suppose." For a moment, the smile fades from her face, and she appears lost in thought. "We missed you, you know. Sastak especially, for a while he kept waiting for you to walk back through the door like nothing happened. Would you like to surprise him?" A devious little smirk crosses her lips with her last statement.
"But I hungry!" Ithar complains, and you feel him fidgeting in your bag. Just then, you notice a pair of elves approaching the remainder of your group. Silvan seems to have wandered off, and Jean is distracted playing with his new rope. Aust appears to be soaking in the sights, with his mouth agape. Taylen appears as calm as ever, and isn't doing much of anything.
"I don't see-"
In mid-sentence, the lizardman folds to face the ground once more. He coughs hoarsely, violently, a hand going down to support him on the ground once more.
"Oh dear, I may have underestimated your injuries. Please lie down, you may be bleeding under your skin. Let me help you, please!" Gavin asks, kneeling and tentatively placing his hand on the reptile's shoulders.
ooc:Janus Krug, Aanile
Just a brief note:
When multiple people view the same scene, the information given usually pertains to the first person listed. The others may have different perceptions, but the information is so similar that describing it separately would prove redundant.
As the lizardman doubles over, his body begins to spasm. Approaching him in this state will prove difficult, especially if he gets agitated. This creature has a size advantage over you, and its kind are not well known for restraint.
Finally, after several hacking coughs, a dark fluid starts to build at the corners of the lizardman's mouth, and a small blotch of black appears on the ground beneath his head. His coughing fit finally stops, and after gasping for his first breath, he breathes slowly and heavily, still doubled over with his head down.
As you struggle to retain your breath, you feel a thick fluid pooling in your mouth. Though you try to restrain it, you find yourself gagging, and finally a dark blotch lands on the ground in front of your face. You are bleeding. With the fluid cleared, you manage to regain your breath.
"Actually, I don't have much option in the matter," Elysia shrugs, speaking in Elven. "Any travelers taken into the city must be accompanied by a guard. Much has changed since you left. The city has been taking in refugees from outlying villages, and many of our own patrollers have gone missing. We have had... other problems as well. But I can't go into that until you've all seen the elders." A frown crosses her face, "We should catch the others up. Lithan and Tedrea will need to continue their rounds."
"I... do... not know how... one trained... such as you claim to... be... can willfully alter that which... you follow."
He then sighs, still staring at the ground. He speaks as if to himself, though his words sound hollow and wispy.
"But... I have already fallen this far. There is little left for me... to claim as natural in myself." There is a long pause, before he speaks again.
"You who claim to be blessed with nature's gift... heal me, please... though I ask so at the cost of my spirit." His eyes close softly.
"I donnot know.. why you say this. You arrre badly hurrrrt."
She slowly makes hand gestures, chanting something low. Her mind focuses on her goddess, and the magic that nature has to heal, focusig it all on the lizardman.
You can feel the energy building in your hands and arms. The spell builds strength as you hold your hands a short distance from Drakkenclaw's form.
"So, may I ask your name? Mmmm... I haven't tasted anything so good in aaaggess.."
As Silvan nears the group, he glances around casually to make sure Elysia is still with him and to make sure nothing too out of place is going on. When he finally gets to the group, he gives Elysia a look, trying to signal to her it might be better if she explained the procedures, if she isn't explaining them already.
Focusing her eyes on the lizardman's chest, she slowly brings her hands to rest above his heart. Or atleast were she belives it should be. Accenting harder on her prayer, she pushes her hands firmly to the lizardman, channeling her energies into him.
I'm going to treat Taylen as an NPC until he shows up to post. Aani, you have now used both of your level 1 spells for the day.
The fellin woman smiles, watching as you eat. She takes only a few bites herself, and sits in silence until you ask your question. In response to your comment, she smiles. Her eyes squint closed, as a soft rumbling murmur emanates from her throat, "Mmmm, if that is the best you have tasted, then there remains much of the world for you to see. You need not seek my leave to ask a question, dear. All living creatures are free to follow their own will, and you are no exception. Ask whatever pleases you, and if it is my will to answer, then I shall."
Two elves approach you by the entrance, one male, one female. They make a fairly casual pace, though once they arrive, they suddenly grow irate. "Hey, you, with the rope, stop that at once!" the male elf shouts, and runs over to Jean, grabbing the rope. The female stops a few paces from the group, with her hand on the hilt of her sword. "Now no more funny business, undestand?" the female says, her voice carrying a tone of annoyance, "We don't want any trouble. Hey, where's the other one?!" With all the distractions, Ara appears to have disappeared.
Aust and Taylen glance at each other, then at Jean, then at the two guards. "I didn't even notice she was gone," Aust answers them, "are you sure she came up with us?" Just then, Silvan comes walking back to the group, in the company of a lovely female elf. She appears to be the same woman who ducked down through the trees before. The other guards turn to her, though still watching the group out of the corners of their eyes. "One of them has disappeared," the male elf tells her.
Elysia remains by your side during the walk, and though she says nothing, it seems like she may have something on her mind. You don't get a chance to ask about it, however. By the time you reach the rest of the group, Elysia's two companions have already arrived. One of them turns immediately to Elysia, and says in a concerned tone, "One of them has disappeared." Elysia frowns visibly.
Jean looks like he's ready to run back down the ramp. The male guard stands over him, with the halfling's rope in hand. Taylen wears a concerned look on his face, and Aust appears utterly confused. Saeessira hovers above. However, it seems that Ariana (as she has insisted on you calling her during the entire walk from the bridge to the Elven city) is nowhere to be seen.
As your palms find their place on the lizardman's chest, the energy passes out from your hands, into the lizardman's body. For an instant, you hear only silence, and hear only the sound of Drakkenclaw's beating heart. Then your senses return, and all seems as it was.
At the fellin woman's touch, the crippling pain begins to subside. Though you still feel sore, and some of your injuries persist, you feel somewhat stronger. Oddly, this feeling is not altogether unfamiliar. At times, after your training with Bearclaw, you returned to the monastery as much under his power as your own. At those times, he carried you to the gardens, where a small woman with shimmering eyes applied a salve to your more grievous wounds. Though the fellin's touch now does not feel wholely the same, her touch reminds you of those times.
(Sorry, phone has been out since early in the month. I should be able to post on sundays and tuesdays until my phone is back on, probably at the end of the month. should you need to treat me as an npc until then, feel free.)
She tears off another chunk of cornbread, devouring it quite ravernously, while still trying (and quite obviously failing) to maintain an air of refinement about her person. She fiddles gently, but unconsciously with the vines making up the table, smiling at the Fellin lady.
"Mmmmmmmm.. also, how'd *munch* you find me..? I'd thought myself on the *munch, munch* inconspicuous side. Sorry about that, *munch* haven't eaten for some time.. I was on my way *munch* to the elven lands, 'fore the caravan I was on was attacked."
She sighs softly, eyeing the bear. Cavavan was much safer comfort. For a while at least, She mentally corrected herself. Then again the bear seems gentle enough.
[ 01-21-2003: Message edited by: Dr. Pvednes, PhD ]