"I'm fine, Isra, but Kers is hurt... " Unlike Kers himself, Fleur has not ignored his wound, and is concerned about him. She moves over to Kers' side protectively, in case the retreating orcs decide to strike again.
Slowly regaining her feet, Israfel walks over to Kers, reaching out to touch him with song.
:
The orcs do withdraw and the surviving ones in the crater drain potions and disappear. From atop the crater, Allain appears, flanked by two cloaked and masked elven warriors. Their cloaks seem to distort the air around them, making it hard to look directly at them.
"Hello! Are you hurt? We have healers who can help." Allain looks bruised and battered himself, but the warriors with him appear to be fine. Seeing your wounds, he slides down the slope, with the two elves in tow.
The elves look at each of you professionally, assessing your conditions. They remove a small jar of green goo from their pouches and offer it to anyone who appears injured.
Kers:
Israfel:
Seeing the dead Legate, Allain frowns. "Did you kill him? It was odd, the orc assassins, they seemed to battle for only a short time, then they withdrew. We've not encountered this sort of tactic from them before. Please, allow me to introduce Gelfric and Laurelasa, of the family Findelhara. They recieved word I was coming this way and sought me out. Their kinsmen and bannermen await us above. They have offered us hospitality, but for your safety and ours, you must be blindfolded for the journey."
"That's fine.. I can accept that. The orcs killed the legate, it was not our doing."
We were not the target, the Legate was.
Allain looks puzzled and the other elves exchange strange looks. "The Legate? Why would orcs target a Legate? The world makes less and less sense as each day passes..." Allain shakes his head. "We should go now. Who knows what danger approaches?"
The elves gather their dead and you are all quickly blindfolded. You are lead on a long walk, through shadowed woods and stop when an elf calls for a halt. Three elven voices join in a litany of fluid words which rise to a crescendo and you feel a sudden sense of falling, though your feet feel solid ground beneath you. Your blindfolds are removed and you find yourself in a great wood, standing on a platform seeming grown from the tree it is attached to. Bridges made of branches that appear to have been grown in a similar fashion attach each tree to the others and you can see that the great oaks have homes grown into them: openings that lead into rooms inside the tree itself. Fireflies light the way and a clear moonless, starless sky is visible over you, but no ground is visibly below you.
"Welcome to Elvenhame, the northernmost outpost of my people." Allain says. He leads you down a slightly descending bridge to a very old tree in the center of the tree houses. It holds a great room, consisting of three sides made of tree with one side open to the air. Inside you can see feasting tables set with food and drink, as well as a smaller table at which sit seven elves, all very old by their look. "The Council of Elvenhame. They wish to speak with you."
The Council rises as you approach and nod to each of you. The leader, an elf with pure white hair and clear blue eyes bows. "I am Greyven. I speak for the Council. Allain has told us that you have saved his life and he owes you a great debt. I would like to hear your story, but you are tired and in pain. Let your wounds be healed, your hunger be sated and the dirt from the road bathed from you. You are welcome here. When you are refreshed, we would hear your tale."
You are taken to rooms where you are offered baths, food and drink, as well as clean clothes in the style of the elves, while your own clothes are laundered. Your wounds are treated by elven physicians and you feel refreshed and clean for the first time in ages. When you are finished, Allain appears, cloaked in similar clothing to your own, and leads you back to the large Council tree.
"So, let us hear your tale. What is it you seek?"
[ooc]
Xochtli will likely only take the minimal help she needs right now before they get to this point.
"Well... there is a book we were sent this way to retrieve and we were in the place we were seeking out someone specifically to help us with it when the legate showed up attempting to dissuade us...."
Fleur speaks softly, sighing, and adds, "We are trying to help those who are trying to bring back the old gods, in the hopes that the old gods can get rid of Izrador, who is a blight on the people and the land. The book was but one step in that direction."
Fleur grows quiet again. Not one for a lot of talk on such subjects, she worries if she said too much. But then, it didn't seem time for a introspection. These beings were old and maybe even some recalled the time when the old gods inhabited the earth. What would they think of this quest? WHat might they remember?
We also seek the truth of the being that has come to inhabit Xochtli. It claims to be an emissary of the old gods. It also claims those gods have fallen and seek to bring us only death.
One of the elves looks interested when you mention a book. "One of my scouts intercepted an orc patrol. They slaughtered them, as is our way, but one was carrying this." He holds out a small roughly bound leather book, wrapped in a leather thong and tied tightly. It bears no writing on the outside, but smells somewhat earthy. "The orcs seemed to value it, so we brought it hence. I know nothing of this emissary, but our wise woman, Fallah, may know something. She sleeps now. I will send someone to wake her, then you may visit with her."
The book is bound with a tight knot, but a moment's fiddling releases it. Inside is mostly drawings, with some scribbled text here and there. The drawings appear to be of stars in the sky, as well as of large stones known as dolmen, and of what seems to be an intricate circle drawn between these stones. Finally a chant, itself seeming nonsensical and phonetic, is written in a fevered hand, as if the author were in a hurry or pressed for time.
"Fallah will see you now." You are lead to the hut of a very old elven woman, so ancient that she appears shriveled and small. She has wispy white hair and sits up in a small bed, smelling of age and liniments. She smiles at you as you enter, her eyes straining to see you clearly. In a surprisingly strong voice, she speaks. "I am Fallah, to whom is given the memory of my people. Why have you come to me?"
Kers is quiet and lets the talkers talk. Though never particularly warm to anyone, he seems to be keeping Xochtli at arms length now.
We seek answers ancient one.
We have been set on a path that could restore the gods to this world, breaking Izradore's power and restoring peace. We also face the possibility that the gods are no longer as they once were.
The very real possibility exists that the gods may have fallen with the tearing of the veil between worlds. A bitter irony that Izradore's treachery may well have condemned the powers beyond the veld to a far worse fate than that which we suffer.
What do the elves know of such matters ancient one? What guidance can you give on such matters? Are we meant to repair the rift freeing the world from the gripe of an evil god or would we deliver the world into madness and death in doing so?
A being claiming to be an emissary has joined with our companion Xochtli. A foul being that reeks of madness, whose truth is uncertain. Could you aid us in ascertaining that truth before we take irrevocable actions?
Having made her speech, Israfel steps to one side and gestures towards Xochtli. Perhaps it is best if you take a closer look for yourself.
Farrah smiles at your questions, Israfel, and beckons you come closer.
"I cannot answer your questions, for I have no knowledge of the worlds beyond the Veil. However, if this creature you spoke of came here from Elsewhere, perhaps something could be sent the other direction? I may be able to help you in this. In the elder days, when the world was young, such things were not uncommon. I have the knowledge to cast such a sending, but it would not be as strong. I could send your minds but not your bodies. If you wish to risk it, I could do this thing. But there is no guarantees you would be able to come back. That would be up to you."
I would risk it. Better my life is lost than I risk the destruction of the world.
Fleur looks from Xochtli to Fallah and nods. "I would risk this as well, for my friend and for the world."
Kers does not accept the task, nor does he decline. He merely watches the others, and then says, I will do what is best, without really clarifying what he has in mind.
"I don't think this is a good idea actually...." Xochtli will comment softly.
The old elf woman nods at your words. "Leave me. I must have time to prepare. Come back when the moon rises. I should have the ritual prepared. Be warned, children of men: I can send your minds beyond, but I cannot bring you back. That is up to you. I would make my peace, were I you."
You are lead out and back to the rooms, where you may talk, eat, sleep or bathe as you see fit.
As the moon rises you are lead back. The old elf woman stands now, leaning heavily on a feathered staff. In front of her is a wooden table, on which sits four cups of steaming tea. "Come, drink. The tea will ease the transition." After you've each drank, she casts a handful of earth, herbs and soemthing that smells like lime into the air. In a fluid tongue that is not Elvish, but not yet any other language you know, she sings a chant. As she does, you feel your bodies becoming heavy and drowsy and your eyes slowly shut.
When you open them again, the sky is on fire.
Standing, Israfel silently surveys her surroundings.
Fleur blinks, looks at the sky, blinks again to make sure her vision is clear. She looks about at the others and slowly remembers that they are traveling without their bodies... And yet, she seems to have eyes to open, and a body... she stretches slightly to test her abilities to move about and examines the others for changes to their usual appearance.
You are standing on a rise of bare, black rock, overlooking a great white desert. Looking down, you see yourselves as you were before, solid and normal in form. Below you, the great white desert stretches to the horizon in every direction, while winds howl and constantly shift the sands. The sky above is red, and periodically, parts of it burst into bright orange flame, contrasted somehow against the sky. The stone you stand on seems to be thrusting forth from the sands below, and feels warm beneath you.
With a great shudder, the stone shakes and you hear a collossal noise book around you, a sob as if made by a giant. You spin around and see that the stone behind you, as it towers above, encases a humanoid figure, naked and male, and at least 100 feet tall. You are level with his face, which is expressive, even though his eyes are held open by fingers of the stone itself.
The eyes focus on you, not-seeing for a moment, then suddenly clear. "What has brought you children here? Why have you come? It is not safe, not safe for you nor for life itself. Flee, children, before the devourers return."
Xochtli looks around at the sky and the desert scene before settling on the encased figure.
"...I told you guys this was a bad idea...."
Fleur looks from Israfel to Xochtli to the encased figure... and slowly speaks first to Xochtli, then to the figure in the stone. "Actually I think it might be a good idea... We have come to try to set you free and return you to your rightful place. Who and what are these devourers and how can we avoid them and free you?" She is taking a huge leap of faith here that this being is one of the missing gods... or a servant of one, but that's why we're here after all - a leap of faith.
The stone figure seems to focus on you for a moment. "Free me? Oh children. This is my just and fitting punishment, children. Once I was powerful, arrogant and foolish. I allowed myself to become over-proud and in my folly, I cast my brother out. In retaliation, he tore the world from its place in the sky. And my brothers and sisters were left powerless, bereft of the worship which feeds us. We fell upon each other and devoured ourselves, until we were weak enough for the devourers to break free. Now I am all that is left. And the devourers have eaten everything save me. Me they save, for it is my fate to witness the end of everything, to watch as they seek to break into even the world we are cut off from." His eyes roll skyward, toward a great globe of red metal that floats in the air above. On its surface, great tentacled things crawl like insects, burrowing into the sphere. Their progress is steady, though the sphere seems to heal itself almost as quickly as the creatures can break it.
"They will come for me as soon as I have seen them enter the world above, as soon as I have watched my folly allow them to devour my creation. Now go children, leave so that I may suffer and die alone."
"Those... those look like what it showed me...."
Xochtli comments softly, staring up in the sky at the globe above them.
Shaken from her bewilderment, Israfel comtemplates the gods words for several minutes before speaking.
No. This is not your just and fit punishment. You languish in your prison and despair while your children wait to die.
Israfel gestures towards the red sphere.
We too have know despair but we have not surrendered. We are willing to fight this evil unto our last breath. Will you aid us in that fight or are you willing to condemn us to failure due to your lack of courage to make right that which was broken. We stand ready to fight this evil, but lack the knowledge to understand how we may face this foe.