Bran lets go of the razorfiend once he's sure its done moving and lies back until the fatigue of the exertion wears off. "That sure was something. Thanks for the healing Mikhail, was about to second guess myself until I felt that warmth."
He eventually stands back up and checks out the area in case of another fiend. "Anything of interest on that owl? Does it confirm those rumors of these flying elves in the area?"
"Ka-kaw," the Raven calls as it lands on a nearby branch.
"The rumors are confirmed, no doubt about that!" Tal'ariel unhooks the jade band that reads Lioko. She wonders if she knew what to do with the owl's body to show respect to these native elves.
"Bran is not looking particularly healthy, so I wonder if we're better off searching for elves than pressing on for more danger. Just imagine how quickly we could move if we had the aid of these giant owls!"
She looks for any obvious signs of owl flight to track the creatures' path, though she figures this is the longest of long shots.
No, no way to tell where the owl came from. And Tal'ariel's knowledge of the rumored swamp elves isn't detailed enough to know about burial customs.
I'll let you guys take a little more time here then move things along tonight or tomorrow.
"A little more healing might be in order then! Hold still Bran as the goddesses power heals you.
Cure Mod. Wounds:
Cure Mod. Wounds:
Shishka is even less sure about these elves or the owl. but she accepts the knowledge the others seems to have conveyed.
Shishka definitely seems interested in seeing one of these owls alive. If we do find these owl riding elves, do you think they will let us fly on one? she asks to no one in particular.
Bran gives a smile, "If not hop on my back, it might be close enough." He stands back up and stretches a little after the energy comes over him, "Praise the Inheritor Mikail. I'll try to be more cautious in the future." He's not lying, its just that his idea of reckless is probably a lot worse than what you've seen.
"I think we should find a place to camp, or at least someone who knows the area."
He looks around for tracks but the unfamiliar swamp and the exertion of the day has him at a loss.
As you all are milling about, you hear a strange rush of wind and see soaring overhead five giant owls like the one that lies dead in the clearing. Each bears a rider - a dark-haired elf wearing leather armor dyed green and brown to match the colors of the marsh.
The flying elves circle the area twice, and then alight near you. They study you with narrowed eyes. Then one speaks.
"Who are you?" he demands. "What are you doing in the marsh?"
Bran sees the elves and waits, but slings his weapons on his back and pockets his hands in a non-violent stance.
I don't think they're as casual as Tal and Seltazar... if you could call that man's intense focus anything close to casual.
The raven holds still and waits to see what the elves do.
Tal is stunned to see the elven owl riders circle and descend on them. She looks around at the others for guidance and sees that they all seem to expect her to talk. Well, her or Seltazar, but she shudders to think how that will turn out.
"Hello! Who are we? I'm Tal'ariel. Abd I guess we are many kinds, as you can see. But we're all brought together for the same purpose--to deal with the oncoming threat of the goblins of the so-called Red Hand, and we're here because we're tracking a band that went to the ancient city of Rhest. Maybe you've seen them? I wouldn't be surprised if they caused you problems along the way. And in truth, those enemies are but a sliver of a far greater army that is marching on the Vale." Tal'ariel waits before saying more, wondering what they'd think of this news.
She takes a few tentative steps forward, presenting the jade band of the owl. "Lioko. The owl was killed by the Greenspawn Razorfiend that also just attacked us. But I think his rider escaped."
The owl-rider is clearly suspicious of you all. One of his companions steps up, takes the jade band, and shows it to him. The leader looks at the jade band, at the slain razorfiend, and at all of you. He holds his bow, with an arrow nocked but not drawn, and pointed at the ground, about 20' away.
"If this is some trick, and you are in league with the goblins, you will not find us easy prey."
Mikail watches and listens to the discourse between these new elves and her companions. This mistrust is very strong, and she attempts to see if she can deduce what is at the heart of their suspicions (Sense Motive?).
She then approaches the leader and speaks.
"We are no friends of these creatures, and in fact are actively fighting against them. If they have any connection to the group know as the Red Hand, then they are also our enemy and we would like to work with you to destroy whatever plans they have here in your marsh. Let us work together to push these invaders out of your home, and make the area a safer place for all people."
Sense Motive:
Diplomacy:
Confidant in Mikail's ability to speak, Bran says nothing. He knows that while sometimes the right words come out, it seems to be more divine luck than anything else.
Mikail recognizes that these are wild elves, not comfortable dealing with outsiders. Even 'civilized' elves like Tal'ariel are suspect, and her manner of speaking seemed to rub them the wrong way.
However, Tal'ariel presenting the leg band did seem to allay their suspicions... slightly.
Mikail's words are more convincing. The leader responds to the aasimar.
"The Inheritor is not our goddess. You understand? We have our own ways. But she stands against demons and is a true and loyal ally. We hope the same is true of you, priestess. Your band killed that thing?"
He points to the razorfiend.
"We have seen this beast before. Or another like it."
He turns to his fellow hunters.
"Search for Lanikar!"
They spread out and begin looking for tracks. One finds the arrows on the ground, and another hunter begins gutting the razorfiend. After a minute, she pulls out what looks like a ring.
"Lanikar, all that is left."
He turns to Tal'ariel and says with a bit of scorn, "Escaped, did he? I think not. You didn't think to gut it?"
Then he relents.
"But you avenged him. Your presence here is both fortuitous and suspect. I believe the Speaker will want to converse with you. Will you come with us? Are there five of you? One of you can ride with each of us."
He eyes the raven.
"That bird is far too tame. A pet? Familiar? It can follow."
"No we didn't think to gut it, frankly it was the last thing on my mind. We're exhausted and have been traveling a while now so we were looking for some sort of safety lest one of those things attack us while we rest." He walks up to one of the owls and the riders, "Make sure the gnome bundles in, she was really excited about this whole riding owl thing... And well, she's bursting with energy."
"I thank you for your offer and we would be honoured to meet your Speaker. The bird will follow us and I look forward to riding on one of these majestic owls!"
Mikail is quite excited to get a chance to fly...as it has been a dream of hers for many years.
"Ka-Kaw," The raven squawks as it flaps its wings taking off to follow his companions.
"I am sorry about Lanikar's passing," intones Tal'ariel in Elven, as she realizes the true fate of the rider. Making sure her things are secure, she goes up to one of the riders and hops on.
Once Shishka sees a live bird up close she is a little intimidated. you sure this is safe for gnomes? have the ever seen a gnome before? do they eat gnomes? I mean we are little like mice, and we had an owl in our shed when we were growing up, it ate mice. do you think I look like a mouse?
The leader gives a slight nod in acknowledgement of Tal’ariel’s comment.
“I am Killiar Arrowswift, Battlehunter of the Tiri Kitor. Lanikar Nightshadow was a young hunter and a good friend. He went missing a few days ago. His sister, Trellara Nightshadow, is the High Singer. They were close. She will take this hard.
Yes, little gnome, the ride is quite safe. Our owls know of the children of the First World.”
He directs two of his hunters to bring your horses safely to Starsong Hill. These hunters give their owls to Bran and Mikail, the two heaviest, so those two will be flying solo (although the owls know where to go). The other hunters saddle up with Tal’ariel (Killiar flies with her), Shishka, and Seltazar. Thom flies along.
“The horses can be taken on paths through the swamp, which my hunters know. That will take several hours longer than flying. It is best that you see the Speaker as soon as possible.”
You feel the great strength of the birds as the giant owls take flight. Once aloft, they are graceful, silent, and powerful. The flight through the swamp takes about an hour and a half. The swamp is a reedy marsh, broken up by the occasional wooded islet.
It had been nearing dusk when you fought the razorfiend – while you found the branch to Rhest around noon, it was slow going for a while after that. So it is late evening as you reach the elven settlement.
The giant owls wing through the gloom, apparently able to navigate effortlessly through the darkness. The hunters accompanying you are as silent as their mounts most of the time, aside from occasionally pointing out a landmark far below. Here and there you see small settlements in platform in the trees, or small tent camps.
Finally you come upon a settlement much larger than any of these – Starsong Hill. Rising from the marsh is a low hill of solid ground, encircled by a thick ring of trees. It’s hard to tell just how tall the hill is, but it looks to be about 20 feet high, and maybe a thousand feet across. The island is fairly heavily forested, especially the southern third. Dozens of pinpoints of light dot the hill. A guide tells you these are “firefly lanterns” hung on platforms on trees or in tents. Many elves silently emerge to watch you as you fly overhead. Killiar produces a sleek silver horn of some sort from a saddlebag and blows one wailing note similar to a loon’s cry.
Near the hill’s peak stand three large trees. Built into their boughs, or into the trunk itself in one case, are wooden structures. One structure glows softly with a luminescence of its own; the living tree forms the walls. This seems to be a temple. Another looks to be a public building or town hall. The third is your destination – a cozy-looking treehouse set above a large pool.
Killiar lands on the balcony and dismounts along with Tal’ariel. Then his owl leaves to make room for another owl to land and deposit its passenger before heading to a nest in the south of the hill. The Battlehunter speaks to you when you are all assembled. With an astonishing coincidence of timing, Thom’s wildshape wears off and he resumes his human form on the balcony. Killiar looks at him and remarks in an inscrutable tone, “Hmm. A Treespeaker human.”
Then he addresses your group. “This is the house of Sellyria Starsinger, our Speaker. She has led us for nearly two hundred years. Be respectful. You will wait here. Stay out of the pool.” As he walks into the house, he makes not a sound.
On the porch, you can see that these “firefly lanterns” are just that – large numbers of fireflies in the glass. They are not trapped, as they can fly in and out, but somehow are drawn to congregate in the lanterns. You watch the fireflies for a bit.
After a few minutes, Killiar comes back onto the porch. “Follow me.”
Waiting inside is a wise-looking and ancient elf. She wears flowing golden and green robes, and her hair is braided around a complex headdress made of wicker and wood. She stands next to a much younger female elf in plain brown and green robes who looks to have been crying recently. The younger elf is seated in a large wicker chair, and the standing elf indicates chairs nearby for you. Behind you, Killiar the hunter takes a silent stance near the door.
“I am Sellyria Starsinger, Speaker for the Tiri Kitor,” the standing elf says. She indicates the seated elf and continues, “This is High Singer Trellara Nightshadow. We do not often see strangers in our homeland. What brings you to the Blackfens?”
Tal'ariel doesn't miss the honor of being allowed to ride with Killiar, the leader of this band. "Thank you for your welcome. You honor us with your hospitality. I believe the Speaker will want to hear what we have to say." She also uses the flight to try and clean the muck and water of the swamp from herself and the party magically.
While waiting around, she also doesn't miss another feature. "There's a large crocodile in the pool . . . don't go for a swim!"
Upon arriving before the leadership, she tries her most respectful curtsy, though in truth she is unused to doing so elegantly. "Speaker, High Singer, we are honored to be in your presence. We are passing through the Blackfens in pursuit of a grave threat to these lands. Goblins, hobgoblins, and even dragons have united under the banner of the Red Hand. Some of their number have made their way to Rhest for reasons we do not understand. But that is only a splinter of their main force, which is on the march from the West. We have seen the army with our own eyes, and it is massive--a threat to the entire Vale. We did not expect to meet you as we passed through here, but I feel it is fortunate we did so we could share this information."
As usual, Tal'ariel just blurts out the news of the threat. She hopes these elves enjoy this straightforward approach.
"I see," says the old elf. "Thank you for your role in slaying that harrow-blade." She motions to the High Singer, who is still seated. "The creature slew Trellara's brother, I understand. At least now we know his fate."
Trellara, still seated, resumes sobbing.
"We will listen to more of this Red Hand, and tell you what we know," continues Sellyria Starsinger, "But first you will tell us of yourselves. Who you are, and not just your names, though that would be the least you could do."
She speaks in a kindly tone, but is gently reprimanding Tal'ariel for forgetting the most basic of courtesies.
Bran finally decides to speak up, not sure if its because he feels compelled to or because he wants to take the pressure off of his elven friend, "I am Bran O'Dimm, I come from Cheliax if you must know and through the power of the Strongman I have found a means for redemption among my friends here." He flashes out his holy symbol and clutches it tight enough that it marks into his palm before uttering out the first thing that comes to his mind, "I am sorry for your loss Trellara. If it is any consolation, that beast will make no one suffer any longer."
He spends a moment to compose himself before continuing, "There is a great evil coming across this land, a great oppressor; a dragon queen with the name of Tiamat." Its been a while since he has used that name, though when he does it still causes his scars to burn."I cannot speak for the rest but I have decided to do whatever I can to ensure that these lands don't get crushed underneath the weight of that monster and her zealous armies. While she may not be here, I fear her shadow grows by the hour."
Thom steps forward and gives a slight bow, "I am know as Thom Oaktall, protector and friend of the forest and those who dwell within." His large grin peeks through his tangled beard as he adds, "Your people would call me a treespeaker I believe."
Stepping forward, Mikail's silvery skin shines in the light.
"Greetings and the blessings of Iomedae upon you. I am Mikail, daughter of the Iophanites Lyasium of Proelera. I was sent to this plane by Peace Through Vigilance to help against the Red Hand. It is a great pleasure to meet you and you have my deepest sympathies on your loss. The Inheritor shall bless him and keep his name sacred for he died defending his home and people."
Diplomacy:
Trellara is grateful for the kind words of Bran and Mikail. "Thank you," she says softly. She stops crying and tries to compose herself.
Sellyria nods at all of you as you introduce yourselves.
"Cheliax, truly? And yet you serve the Strong Man. A most human deity. Races and tests of strength are so popular among your kind, moreso than among dwarves or elves. But a noble god, I understand. And a young one. The oldest among my people may have even met Kurgess as a mortal."
"Thom Oaktall of the Witchwood, is it not? I have heard of you. Though we tend to remain in our Blackfens, we know something of the lands next to ours. You are welcome here."
"If Heaven is sending such as you, Mikail, the danger must be great indeed. This is no mere band of marauders, is it? Your friend Bran spoke of Tiamat. That indeed could warrant divine intervention."
She similarly greets the others, then gets to the matter of the Red Hand.
"As you have seen, the marsh is growing dangerous. We have long struggled to hold these beautiful lands for our own. The local lizardfolk have vexed us for many decades, but now a new peril stalks the Blackfens.
You said you did not know why the Red Hand was interested in Rhest. I am afraid I do not know either. But months ago, some power established itself in the ruins and brought the lizardfolk under its dominion. Whoever it is has not meddled with our encampments yet. We have not tried to infiltrate the ruins for fear of arousing a wrath we may be ill-equipped to deal with.
Have you other questions? I will answer as best as I am able."
Bran gives a warm smile at the thought of the elusive elves knowing of Kurgess, "If they have met him, and are willing to speak, I would love to hear what they may have known of him. Anything at all."
Hearing that she isn't perplexed by the name Tiamat, Bran speaks up, "What legends do your folk know of Tiamat? The name wasn't alien to you it seems, any truths could arm us appropriately."
When he hears about the mysterious power in Rhest and the lizardfolk, "Under its dominion? Are these lizardfolk enthralled by it or are they free willing? I can't stand for tyranny like the former, have you had any contact with them at all since this power?" He waits for a response before continuing, "What can you tell us about Rhest? All we know is that it happens to be ruins, but ruins of what?"
"I am sorry, young man, I do not mean that I personally knew Kurgess. Perhaps Taldan elves might have known him. But at three hundred and ninety-two, I believe I did walk Golarion at the same time as the Strong Man. So there could be some who still live who remember him."
She seems amused at the thought, looks at Bran's holy symbol, and returns the smile.
"Perhaps someday you will meet them."
Trellara stands and speaks up. She sounds studious, as if reciting facts can help her remain focused.
"Tiamat, Sir Bran, was the mother of the dragon race. Apsu was her mate, and Dahak their first offspring. She has never made her presence known in Golarion, though draconic scholars know of her. It is said she cast Apsu out of the heavens when he fought with Dahak, who had become Destruction Incarnate. There are songs of this battle that dragons know; a few others have learned them. It is also said that she has a greater presence on other worlds, and on some has even tried to manifest physically. The great dragon-mage of Dennovar might know more."
She sits down again.
Sellyria takes over again.
"The lizardfolk worship the dragon that came with the goblins. We have seen this dragon a few times, though it has not yet attacked. It is black, and not quite as large as one of our giant owls. The lizardfolk vie for its favor.
As to the city itself, we do not go there. The place has bad memories. It was once the center of a proud nation, but now it is little more than a few ruined buildings slowly sinking into the mire. We respect the memories of that folk and avoid the place. The lizardfolk do not."
Tal'ariel nods with interest. "Intriguing, maybe the Red Hand sent folks to Rhest to rally the lizardfolk to their side? We mean to slay the forces of the Red Hand, including that dragon. That ought to put an end to the lizardfolk's worship."
"Yes. If we can take out as many of these dragon commanders as possible, it would make our battle much easier in the end. These lizardfolk, we will do what we can to not damage your relationship with them."
Upon hearing the story of Tiamat and the mage of Dennovar, he asks "And this mage, do you think they will talk with us? Could you help us at all in that regard?"
Trellara responds, "The dragon-mage of Dennovar, I believe his name sounds like 'Arrogant.' Arrogatto? Something like that. He claims, and appears, to be part-dragon, so flattery is probably a good tactic if you must deal with him. I have only heard of him, not met him. But stories travel, even into the Blackfens."
"Aragathos lives in Dennovar. He's not well-liked, but he's an extremely powerful sorcerer who is paid well to defend that city. I think he's the reason the Golden Drakes broke up - nobody wanted to work with him anymore but everybody was afraid to kick him out."
Sellyria thinks for a minute. "We have never had good relations with the lizard-folk, but by our strength we had convinced them to leave us be. Now that they are serving the dragon, they might be convinced to attack us in force. Eliminating the dragon would likely remove that threat to us, but if you have to kill some of the lizard-folk along the way, it is all the same to us.
Do any of you have any other questions?"
"What do you know about the fall of Rhest and the tale of the Ghostlord? While I suppose rallying the lizardfolk may itself be enough reason, I can't help but wonder if there is some power they are trying to harness within the ruins."
"Yes, I have heard of the Ghostlord."
She asserts this with confidence, then begins telling the story. Her voice is melodic and clear. "You know the story of the proud druid, the honorable nomads in the verdant plains who lived at peace with the lions, and the treacherous nobles from Rhest? I know that tale too. For who does not? Many tell it, in the swamps and in the cities and in the Thornwaste, no doubt.
But it is just a tale.
A passing druid who had once read the The Account of Bavick Whiteriver told me the true story. He told me the story eighty-four years ago, the summer before Illian Snowmantle's ordination. It was ten days after midsummer; there had been a thunderstorm in the afternoon. The druid told the story over a dinner of trout, which he cooked with berries. He was a dwarf, in fact a second cousin of Bavick Whiteriver. And this is how the story went:
Urikel Zarl was the leader of a cruel lion cult, in what is now the Thornwaste. His people were feral cannibals who believed that, in death, their bodies would transform into lions and thereafter live forever. Urikel Zarl was their undying lord and master; he had long before turned his back on the natural world for the tainted promises of eternal existence as one of the undead. The lords of Rhest sought to challenge Urikel Zarl and subjugate the region. The cavalry and the cultists destroyed each other. In the years to come, both Rhest and the Thornwaste fell to ruin."
She looks a bit sheepish. "My apologies. I suppose I should make a proper song of it, but I think you are most interested in the facts, as best as we know them."
Sellyria nods. "This rings true with the tales I heard when our people still lived in the Westdeep. The frightful tales of the savages of the plains, and their dread lord. It was long ago, but I recall that his fearsome reputation came before the great battle that destroyed his tribe; he did not turn to dark powers to avenge his people.
As to Rhest, the kingdom was not destroyed all at once, but weakened and declined over time. The final blow was a goblin invasion some two hundred years ago. Only a few decades after we Tiri Kitor came to join the other elves of the Blackfens. The last human defenders of Rhest let the Stonewash River flood the great city, destroying the goblin horde that was looting and burning it. This sacrifice let the survivors flee to the other human-towns of the Vale. While the kingdom fell, its people lived on."
Trellara adds, "No tale that I know of speaks of magical power within the ruins of Rhest. There may be some that I do not know of. I am certain the goblins have some reason for being here, though I know not what it is."
Mikail is silent throughout the conversation, only to nod in agreement when they speak of entering the ruins to discover what the Red Hand is up to and making the marsh a safer place for the elves.
"Fascinating, so the Ghostlord was something like a lich, and his people would prey on the flesh of men? Seems like Rhest was on the right side of that battle. Is Rhest still flooded by the river? That would certainly make the place more hospitable for lizardmen."
Tal'ariel considers one more question, though it was a big ask. "I know we are strangers to your land, and your hospitality has been incredible. It seems you already knew before, but now you have more information confirming the threat to the Vale posed by the Red Hand. So . . . I think it's fair to say that we are looking for help anywhere we can get it. Is there any aid you would be willing to provide us? To me, the most obvious is transportation, with your magnificent owls. Is it possible to have Killian and his crew fly us to Rhest from here? Or . . . is there any way we would be able to have the service of an owl ourselves?"
Bran nods, "As much as we can make the journey through that swamp, it would help a lot if we could avoid it. If more of those razorfiends live there, I would like to avoid them before heading into this city."
Sellyria shakes her head. "We can provide you with boats to navigate the Blackfens, but we cannot spare our owls. They are our strongest defense, and may be needed in the coming days.
If there are more harrow-blades, or razorfiends as you say, it is best that you destroy them. There have been only a few sightings, and only one this far from Rhest, so it is possible there are not many such creatures."
"Yes," says Trellara, "but what ones there are must be destroyed. I would come with you all. The creature that killed my brother must have something to do with this dragon and this Red Hand. Our high priest Illian Snowmantle claims it has ties to the Infernal, which matches your tale of Tiamat's influence. I would avenge him."
Sellyria is taken aback. "Are you sure this is what you want, High Singer? You have just suffered a great loss. You are not trained for this. I do not think your soul is balanced enough for this decision."
Trellara replies, politely but firmly, "I respect your wisdom, Speaker. But this is my wish. And I have supported our warriors in battle with my music before."
"At least wait until after the funeral, to think it over."
Trellara nods and sits silently. Sellyria continues, "We will hold the funeral tomorrow morning. I invite you to attend. You are free to move around Starsong Hill tonight; we will have two guest tents cleared for you, and will attend to your horses when they arrive. There are some small craft stalls in the Hall of Ancestors if you need supplies. Illian Snowmantle is away, but his apprentice Paxis may have some scrolls or potions at the temple that could be of use."
Bran waits quietly, saying nothing about the funeral and her intentions to come with them. He hears talk about balanced souls and realizes this is not something he wants to get in between, I would be a hypocrite to tell her not to come. Whatever choice she makes needs to come from within.
"I will attend. If you need any help with preparation, I would offer my assistance where possible." He's unsure how to act among the elves, and their customs, but he knows in times of grief that camaraderie helps sooth the soul. "Your hospitality is gracious, and shines well on your people. I would love to walk around this place, as its not an opportunity I have ever been given." His words are chosen carefully and slowly, hoping not to offend and mimicking their formality.
Shishka did not have much to offer, she seemed much more enthralled at the village as a whole, and the memories of flying on the owl still fresh. she had tried to pay as much attention as she could, but still managed to get most of what was being said.
I will go to the funeral, I don't have much to say, and I really don't know much about elves and stuff.
after a brief listen to others, I can go with you Mr. Bran I want to see more of this place as well.
Shishka is not the most formal in her words, nor her demeanor. but she does seem to try and be proper.at least as proper as she can be.
"If you wish, you may help construct the pyre tomorrow morning," says Sellyria. "Since there is no body, the pyre will consist of boughs, branches, and mementos, blessed with holy water. After that, we will spend the rest of the day in celebration of Lanikar's life, with music, dancing, feasting, and storytelling. We would welcome the tales of your land."
Starsong Hill is quite large for a hill in the swamp. It is about 1000' across, and about 20' high. The largest structure is the Hall of Ancestors, a three-story treehouse that serves several purposes. The lower floor is a meeting hall large enough to seat 200 people. The middle floor has a wide balcony surrounding a number of small chambers used as trading posts. This floor includes a small theater, two small taverns (one quiet and pleasant, the other with lively but gentle music that makes you think of small birds), and a few craft shops. The upper floor includes a library/archive (overseen by Trellara Nightshadow) and the Chamber of Ancestry, a large windowless vault with hundreds of niches containing urns.
Starsong Hill also includes watchtowers, owl nests, comfortable guest tents, the temple, and many small tents and treehouses.
The construction overall is rustic but elegant. Some elves are rather shy, but others are politely curious about you. Killiar Arrowswift was rather an outlier in his suspicion, likely due to his role as Battlehunter. He appears to have softened his demeanor now that you have the trust of Sellyria Starsinger.
"I can definitely help with that. It would be an honour to hear of Lanikar's life." Bran gives one final nod of his head and extends his hand out, unsure if they shake hands here.
Bran starts to leave and looks at his adventuring partners, "I'll go for a quick run around the hill, it would be nice to stretch after everything we've done. I've got some thinking to do anyway." He hops in place a few times then jaunts out of the room at a moderate pace.
As he runs he begins to think about everything that has brought him to this point, the sighting of the Strongman in that vision, the rising of Tiamat. He normally runs for the exercise, to escape the past of bloodshed and torment, but today he is running toward something. Since leaving Cheliax he has started to become his own person, free from the Infernal bonds and corruptions; in fact he barely notices the scar on the back of his neck. Has the healing from the Inheritor helped? He muses but realizes that ultimately it doesn't matter. Whatever is causing his newfound spirit has to be from within, Kurgess only removed the shadow cloaking it.
What seems like an hour or two later, he is still running and pushing himself. Whatever the future holds, I will seek it out with these others. Again at the side of his eyes he sees the Flexing Arm in the distance, and its in that single moment that his focus breaks and he goes crashing into an elf. He picks them up as quick as he can, before noticing that it is Trellara from earlier and offers his apologies.
"I am so sorry, I just got lost in the run and I saw a vision... of Kurgess." He looks visibly embarrassed, "... I got distracted by it. Please let me help you out, this doesn't normally happen."
He starts to pick up whatever she may have dropped when he barreled into her.
The elves watch with fascination as Bran runs several laps around the island. He hurdles fallen logs, threads gaps between trees, and by the light of firefly lamps is able to keep his footing throughout his evening run. One of the giant owls seems to think this is a game, and swoops at him; his later laps steer a bit clearer of the owl nests.
Trellara is startled, but unhurt. "It was my fault - I was coming up to you but did not call out. I saw you out here, Bran, and I came to speak. I came to ask about your quest. What is it that binds your heart to this task? Is it this Kurgess, your god? Is it revenge? Is it glory?"
"You know, it's only recently that I started asking myself that. Part of it is glory yes, the Strongman loves tests of strength, though it isn't the entire reason." He sits down, "I grew up in Cheliax and I fought and killed many in their bloodsports. I told myself that I never had the choice, but I think looking back on it that was a comforting lie I told myself so I could live on. Hells, even before I saw the Strongman and broke free of that world, there was always a choice."
He stares at some wandering fireflies before continuing, "The Red Hand wants to crush the world, they want to take that choice, that freedom from everyone. They want slaves, fear and livelihoods; and are ruthless to achieve their ends. When I see them, I can envision their idea of a future...." He exhales slowly, "... It terrifies me. It mirrors the world I grew up in." He closes his eyes and palms the scars on his neck. "If I can stop them from creating another Cheliax, another world where free men and women don't have choice, I have to take it."
Trellara is quiet while Bran talks. Then she says,
"If the only foe were the goblins, we elves might remain safe in our swamp. There is little of use to them here and it would not be our way to sally forth and liberate the land. And while your cause would still be a noble one, it would be a hard decision, since my people's survival could depend on protecting all of our resources and strength, including the magic of my song.
But Tiamat is a far greater threat. The eye of your soul sees clearly, that you speak of Cheliax. Tiamat has sought power over mortal realms before. If the Elsir Vale becomes not simply a goblin-ruled nation, but a Tiamat-ruled nation, we would not be safe. Nor would any mortal. Many would die as blood sacrifices, and those that live would suffer under Infernal rule.
I would join you, Bran the Strong. Will you have me?"
Then she starts trying to compose some verses, singing to herself.
"If only foes were goblin blades,
Elves could live in marshy glades.
If dragon queen should rise from Hell,
mortals in the Vale would dwell
forever under evil might,
all the forests turned to blight."
She frowns.
"That last couplet isn't very good. Because it's not just forest in the Vale. I will have to work on it:
'forever under evil power;
she must be stopped this very hour?'
No, that's worse. 'Power' is a tough one to work with.
'forever under evil might,
souls and lands all turned to blight?'
That's better."
She sighs. "This will be a song someday, but you can't force it."
"I would have you only if that choice comes from your heart. Truthfully I worry about the ire of your folk as well, considering all they have done for us; but if you speak as you speak to me now I know they can be persuaded."
Bran the Strong? Bran the Strong?! Never would I have thought I would become a tale, like the ones I heard in whispers.
"I will hear of this song and you will be the one to sing it. I swear that to you now." He holds his fist to his heart and extends his hand outward.