ooc:
I was really hoping to see more activity by now. Several of you are overdue.

"Wow..." Relmido whispers beside you. "What a performance."

Everyone

Murmurs rise briefly through the crowd, then die down again. "You may take a seat, little one," the grey-haired elf says quietly. Looking around nervously at the staring faces, Tina sniffles, "I'm so sorry, I didn't... didn't mean to cause trouble. I just... I'm sorry." Most of the front row remains occupied, and Tina simply stands still between the two elves, until the elven woman (Naeatalle) escorts her to a seat between the enormous human man (Barry), and a smaller woman (Tania) several feet along the bench from him.

The elven woman walks up the aisle, and slips past those clogging it. All eyes return to the center of the room, as the elderly elven man speaks to them once again. "The events you have just witnessed," he begins, his voice sturdy, "represent an aspect of our times which few yet understand. Many among you have heard about the recent rise in orc attacks. Some have come here seeking sanctuary from bandit hoardes on the outskirts of the forests. Yet the true dangers beyond our fair city's gates hide themselves from prying eyes."

Whispers and murmurs again well up briefly among the crowd. Some nod in acknowledgement. Others shift nervously in their seats.

"Now it is time that we came to know each other. My name," the old elf pauses, "is Sorillin. Five hundred seventy two years have come and gone since the day of my birth. For those who wish well to my elven kin, I offer sanctuary. To those who would wish us ill, know now that your ambitions shall find no harbor here." His voice drops off into a deep, vibrating tone.

Sorillin's eyes scan slowly over the whole of the gathered crowd, meeting every pair of open eyes with a soul-piercing gaze. Not a whisper can be heard, and even the air seems suddenly more stifling. Time seems to stand still, and the ceiling dims over your heads, leaving a dismal gloom in its wake. Shadows move in and out of sight. Three voices each echo in turn through the void in turn.

"Dark hearts revealed, no malice greets the light," comes the soft voice of a familiar woman.

"Auras of power come ever present, yet none fit to undo the harmony of wiser minds," a male voice, sturdy and symphonic, echoes across your ears.

A second female voice, sullen and mysterious, adds her own verse to the chorus, "Fear and courage, love and remorse, minds mingle in the silent night. One voice united, yet many apart, the echo rises, masking the will of one. Beware the foe who would be friend to only himself."

Silence follows, yet silence too brief to count. The scream of an arrow breaks the air. Slowly, a soft light fills the room again, bringing the room back into view. Little has changed, though now Sorillin grasps a longbow in his left hand. His eyes glare at a figure in the third row, slumped over upon his seat. An arrow sticks out of the dead man's chest, and a small crossbow adorns his wrist.

"Now all is revealed," Sorillin's voice echoes through the hall. "We four that stand around you and amongst you are the Elders of Destindeterre. Any who seek our audience may remain. But for those who seek the city's wonders, you are free to go where you please. The ceremony has ended, and all are now welcome."

Aanile

Twin Moon remains unusually silent through the old elf's lectures. She watches him as a flower watches the sun, her beady black eyes following his steps. As the room goes dark, she edges up your arm, then hops atop your head, setting both talons gently between your ears.

Reyolen

Sorillin, most venerable of the city's Elders. You heard his name often as a child. Master of the Hunts, they called him. Even in his age, his marksmanship can hardly be rivaled. Even without the old tales, the dead half-elven man in the third row offers proof enough of Sorillin's steady hands.

Falaanla

"Haha!" Relmido exclaims. "Now that's a real show. Finally some excitement! So, Saeessira, right? Think he's really dead? Let's go find out!"

Pvednes, Ukko

Tina, the little halfling girl with all her hair drawn into endless braids, cowers beneath the front row seat, curled up with her hands over her head, and shaking slightly.

She jumps at the sound of the powerful bow, and looks at where the Elder Sorillin is scowling, then shivers slightly at the many surprises of the hall. Tania then looks back to the big human, and the tiny Tina.

[ 04-29-2003: Message edited by: Dr. Pvednes, PhD ]

ooc:
Drak has asked that his character be treated as an NPC, while he takes his final exams. His lizardman shall join Gavin in the realm of NPC-ness

Falaanla, you've been idle for far too long. Please try to post soon.

The little girl's hand disappears inside your own. She looks up at you nervously from beneath the seat. "It went right over me. I thought it was a bee, but... I just want a normal life, like everyone else. Isn't anywhere safe?" She hugs your hand with her other arm.

Sorillin approaches you. "You have suffered more than most, little one," he says softly, kneeling down. "But you will feel better soon. Come out from there, and have a look towards the back row. That's the way."

Tina climbs out nervously from beneath the bench, her hand still buried inside yours. "I can't see through all the people," she pouts, looking first at Sorillin, then at you. "They're too tall."

Pvednes

No one appears to notice as you shift closer to the giant man and the little halfling girl. You can't help notice the sharp contrast between the two of them. As the old elf joins them in conversation, many of the elves, humans, and other folk begin making their way towards the large room's only exit. Some shuffle into the aisle, while others simply climb over the rows of benches, as they did before.

Falaanla

Following his statement, Relmido hovers over towards the dead body. Several others nearby also stop to examine him.

Reyolen, Aanile, Taylen

With the demonstration concluded, most of the room's occupants begin making their way towards the exit. Sorillin stops to speak with the halfling girl, though the behemoth of a human now obstructs your view. The two elves on the balconies, most likely the remaining Elders, climb down and make their way towards the aisles.

Silvan gets up from his seat and moves back through the room the way he came to pick up his backpack and other equipment. After he has recovered his belongings, he looks around the room for Taylen.

It takes a bit of effort to weave your way past the more patiently departing crowd. You pass Freya, Taylen, and the lizardman Drakkenclaw on your way up the aisle, so finding them on your way back should not prove too difficult once the crowd thins.

You pass someone else of interest as well. Elysia, who had left after leading you and your companions here, sits in the back row with her feet up. "Welcome home," she says to you in a sweet, but slightly tired voice as you turn the corner behind her.

[ 05-04-2003: Message edited by: Ford Prefect ]

Taylen is happy to see her here but concerned at the same time.

Through most of Sorillin's presentation, Drakkenmaw keeps his eyes tightly shut. His mind struggles between utter revulsion at the Elven city, the animal instinct to assure his safety, and the curiosity of his sentience. As the room goes dark around him, and the shadowy voices utter riddles beyond his comprehension, he finally lets one eye open slightly.

He gets only a brief glimse of the room as the light returns, before shutting his eyes tightly again. A chill runs down his spine. Madness, he thinks to himself, how can any creature live like this? At least the humans in Terra... in that human city, admit their defiance of the Shalm's order. But these elves... he cringes, and shifts closer to Freya, clearing one side of the aisle.

Drakkenclaw shows no outward acknowledgement once the Elven ceremony ends. He simply remains standing in place, with his eyes sealed.

[Gavin]

Gavin sits quietly in the fourth row, behind the people already sitting, so as not to bother anyone with his arrival. He sits quietly through the ceremony, thinking both about the events around him, and about what he has seen so far of Destindeterre's people.

Elves are supposed to be civil, he ponders. They live for centuries, yet they still act like children. Maybe I'm being too hasty though. That girl might still be young. Well, for one of them at least. She's probably older than I am, at the least. Maybe she's only half elf, with long ears. That's probably it. Just a human in an elf's body.

He turns his attention to the events in the center of the room. "What're they doing... to that poor girl," he mutters quietly. Then he sees the spell, and his eyes go wide. What spell is that? He leans forward in his seat, gazing between the two fellis in the row before him. Slowly but surely, his mind wraps itself around the words, trying to piece together from his training what they could mean. The Lord of Magics, that sounds familiar. She's a priest, I think. All this about veils and seeing, it's something... an illusion, perhaps? No, something else.

An enchantment! he restrains himself from speaking, in case the other elves can hear him. She's taking over the girls mind! But why? What could she possibly gain by mystifying that poor child? I need to see more. He continues to watch in silence, until the lights dimmed.

When the lights dimmed, and he saw the man lying smitten by Sorillin's arrow, Gavin's jaw dropped. Do these elves have no souls, no conscience? They bring death and conquest, yet speak of revelation. It's madness! He makes his way over to the slain man, and kneels over him, as the crowd gathers around. Carefully pressing one hand on the man's chest, he wraps his fingers around the arrow shaft, and slowly pulls it backward, using his thumb to ease the pressure around the wound.

[Saeessira]

"Still alive? I, um, think I'd rather not," Saeessira answers half-heartedly as Relmido hovers towards where the old fellin woman sits feeding Ithar. "Hello again," she smiles, "you said we could get something to eat after the ceremony, right?"

ooc:
Let there be life?

The crowd continues to work its way towards the exit. Following a group of elves from the front row, several fellis from the far side of their room start up the aisle. Those who cannot easily reach the aisle simply climb over the rows of entwined branches.

Meanwhile, the elders reach the aisles, and walk towards the center of the room.

Taylen, Aanile

A group of elves from the front row walks past you. Naeatalle then approaches from the other direction, and pauses beside you. She steps out of the aisle to make way for a group of approaching fellis. "I imagine that was an enlightening experience," she says to you in a soothing tone. "Perhaps, if you are not too weary, you have your own stories to tell."

Falaanla

"Welcome back," Ralora smiles as you approach. "Yes, so I did." Her clawed finger strokes under Ithar's chin. "I need to collect my other charge, then we can go. Meanwhile, this will tide you over." Her palm opens, revealing three small red berries.

"Ooh, more berries!" Ithar exclaims, letting out an excited chirp. "I full. You want?"

Ukko, Pvednes

The little girl reaches up with her free hand, and climbs up onto the large human's shoulder. "Not really," she answers hesitantly, "I wasn't really, you know, paying attention to the guided tour or anything. Can we go higher?"

"Yay!" Tina bounces on your shoulder, "Let's go higher! What's a peteet?"

"It means little one," Sorillin's weary voice speaks from beside you, "in a language I have not heard since the travels of my youth. If you seek someone in Destindeterre, tell me their names. This seems the time for it, after all. After that, please tell me also where you learned to speak the words of the earth elves."

Thank you very much. It seems my bird likes you quite a bit, maybe you can teach me some of what you know f birds and other animals sometime, I would like that.

Sae then takes the berries and eats one of them.

"Sure you dont want one Ithar?"

"Who.. youknow..?"

The berry tastes very sweet. Its juices spread through your mouth, making the single berry feel like a mouthful. Once you swallow it, the taste lingers briefly on your tongue, then fades. Your stomach feels as if you've eaten a full bowl of stew.

"I full," Ithar repeats, and flutters off Ralora's hand onto your shoulder.

Pvednes, Ukko

The little girl looks down from the big man's shoulder, "My name's Tina. Hey, is that the woman back there?" she asks, pointing towards the back of the room at a fellin and what looks like a winged halfling. "Wow, is that a flying person? I wanna fly too!"

"You're not staying at your old place?" Elysia replies to you, as you return to the aisle with your backpack. However, a number of elves and other people choke the aisle, as they make their way out of the conference hall. After a moment, you slip through a gap in the crowd, and start climbing over the benches on Taylen's side.

When you reach Taylen, he is not alone. Freya stands with him, holding the lizardman Drakkenclaw by the arm. Naeatalle, the Destindeterre elder, stands on Taylen's other side, waiting for the crowd to clear.

Taylen, Aanile

The familiar face of Silvan appears beside you. Or at least, his chest appears beside you, as he steps up onto the nearest bench, between Taylen and the exit.

Groups of elves, fellis, humans, and gnomes make their way past you, up the aisle towards the building's exit. One of the fellin men appears familiar. He steps aside, letting a group of gnomes pass by him. "Freya, is that you?"

"You talk funny," little Tina comments from the big man's shoulder. "What's your names?"

Sorillin thinks for a moment. "Myrachita? Yes, yes, I've heard that name recently. Part human, I believe. Yes, she came about a month ago, asking if the hunts had found a large human in the forest. If you stay the night, she should return after the sun rises."

Her ears perk when she hears the familiar voice, turning to face it. "Yes." She says, tilting her head to one side. "Is that... you?"

As you turn around, you quickly find that the familiar voice comes from a yet more familiar face. His markings match your own, and though you have not seen him in several years, you cannot easily forget your own cousin, Simfor. "I hope it's me," he answers in your native tongue. "I'd hate to think about who else I might be if I'm not myself." A broad grin stretches across his face.

Taylen

Freya turns around to face the source of the familiar voice. You notice Simfor on the other side of the aisle, blocked from you by the people walking towards the exit. Beside you, Naeatalle waits patently for the path to clear.

Pvednes, Ukko

"I dunno," Tina shrugs, "but he sure does like my hand." She points briefly at the big man's hand, into which her own hand and forearm disappear entirely.

Janus Krug

With careful shifting, you manage to pull the arrow from the wound. Blood drips from its diamond tip. The man's chest appears no better, as pulses of red liquid spill down his side, and drip to the floor. The small crowd around you stare at your efforts with a mix of curiosity and confusion.

"I wonder what there is to do around here.. that market looked fun..."

[ 05-15-2003: Message edited by: Dr. Pvednes, PhD ]

A look of concern spreads over her face.

She reached out and took her cousin's hand. "Tell me everrry thing."

"You said your wife was half elf," Sorillin smirks. "What did you think the other half was?" He turns to the human woman, "The spire market closes during the evenings. If you're looking for a way to pass the night hours, I suggest walking north, towards the Fellin Quarter. Most outsiders tend to enjoy a more fast-paced lifestyle than my own kin."

Ukko

The empty feeling in your hand after letting go of the girl's tiny arm reminds you that you have yet to retrieve your axes.

Aanile

"Hey, watch it!" shouts the male gnome you reach over to get at Simfor. The equally gnomish woman behind him adds, "Gyih! Quit it, what're you... learn some manners!" as Simfor steps in front of her. The elf with grey-streaked hair steps aside, allowing Simfor to make your little group more crowded. "Ah, to be young again," she muses.

Taylen, Reyolen

Freya takes it upon herself to haul her cousin over to her, through a line of passing gnomes. The gnomes don't seem very pleased about it. Naeatalle steps aside to make space for the added fellin. "Ah, to be young again," she muses, suppressing a grin.

ooc:
Just a reminder, you're now in the room with the Elders. For those whose characters had anything important to ask or say, this might be a good opportunity.

After settling himself on your side of the aisle, Simfor smiles, placing his hand on Freya's shoulder. Her owl hops down to her arm. "Our family is fine," the fellin man says calmly in Sylvan, looking into Freya's eyes. "When the lands grew troubled, most of the tribe headed north. A few of us stayed behind, in one of the human villages just west of home, Trana Kayle. But they had troubles of their own. I ended up coming here."

After a brief pause, he adds in Common, "So who are your friends? I've met Taylen already."

"I thought she was a angel."

As you turn to make your way up the path, you find it choked with others doing the same. However, you need not wait for them, as you are perfectly accustomed to traversing rough terrain. Climbing up and over the low benches of entwined wood proves a simple task, and you begin walking towards the exit beside the line of fellis and smaller folk.

"The world holds many truths," the old elf's voice says from behind you. "One truth need not always agree with another." "Was she pretty?" the little girl on your shoulder asks.

Pvednes

The large man turns away, with a final, sullen answer to the old elf's comments. "I thought she was a angel," his deep voice chokes out. "The world holds many truths," the old elf's voice offers one final reply to the large man's back. "One truth need not always agree with another."

A sullen female voice interrupts Sorallin's musings. "Sureau, this matter merits your attention." He turns around to face an elven woman standing a few feet away, wearing a long green robe and with silver streaks running through her raven hair. "Alright, Esmerelda," he says in a calm tone, and walks over to her. Beside her, three lizardmen carrying long bladed poles converse in hushed, hissing tones with a dark-haired elven man. He too wears long green robes, though his acorn hair shows no signs of grey.

Taylen, Aanile, Reyolen

"That depends what you seek," Naeatalle replies, "though for most items I can likely guide you. Tell me what sort of supplies you need, young one."

She slips Sorillin a smile.

ooc:
The three elders' names that party members have learned so far are Sorillin, Naeatalle, and Esmerelda. Please forgive any misspellings.

"You are free to wait if you wish," Sorillin answers, "and I will answer your questions when I can. However, I do not know how long this will take. You might wish to tell Ralora that you plan to stay."

Esmerelda, the elven woman with silver-streaked raven hair, glances briefly at you, then at Sorillin, "Perhaps I can answer her questions. Military matters fall softer on your ears than mine."

"True enough, Sureai," the grey-haired elf nods, "her name is Tania." With that, Sorillin joins the acorn-haired elven man in coversation with the three lizards.

Esmerelda turns back to you, stepping a bit away from the others. "Tell me, Tania, what questions burden your mind?"

Then Barry puts a hand in front of an elf in the line, and says politely,
"S'cuser moi, Mind if we cut in?"
Barry steps in, not even waiting for an answer, his mind elsewhere.
"Ok, where's the smart elf with my axes?"

"I'm in no-" the elven woman begins to answer you. Her statement cuts off when you step into the line ahead of her. "Humans," she sighs from behind you.

Tina taps you on the side of the head with her fingers. "Can we go to the cat woman over there?" she asks, pointing towards the fellin and the hovering girl near the back of the room. "Maybe she'll know stuff."

You find yourself squeezing past a lizardman, who takes up half the aisle.

"If you return here in the morning, you will find yourselves waiting here until sunset again," Naeatalle replies to Silvan's suggestion. "Running the ceremony requires a great portion of our powers; it is a commitment we cannot make more than once in a day. You wouldn't starve, but I'm sure you can imagine why so few have stayed."

She pauses for a moment to watch the line pass by. "Hello Tina, how do you feel?" the old elf waves, as a huge human brushes awkwardly passed Drakkenclaw. The little halfling girl rides on his shoulder, and giggles as she waves back.

"Now, where were we," she ponders in the Elven tongue, turning to Taylen. "Ah, yes. Most of what you seek, you can find on the next tier up the spire. You should have no trouble finding fletchers there, as the need for their services has grown of late. Smithies lie mostly on the eastern edge of the city, where steam from the forges can rise safely." A soft smile washes briefly over her face, before she adds, "I am curious what matters would require a greater sage than you speak with now."

Ukko

The fellin woman sitting where Tina points does not resemble the one you entered the city with. She wears garments of pink and white that cover little more than her womanly parts.

However, you have another assurance that the one you entered the city with stands elsewhere. From the corner of your eye, you notice something familiar about the lizardman you just pushed past. You have seen him before, as well as the fellin woman standing next to him.

The line of people in front of and behind you continue moving towards the exit, taking you along with them.