Samen steps in fearlessly. "Certainly. Host? Mouthpiece?" Samen's eyes narrow a bit. "Slave?" Just as quickly, the moment of hostility is gone. "I am Samen Firenze, a humble mage of no account, interested in studying elementals to understand elenity."
The bearded oread laughs at your insults, a hearty sound. "One rude, one polite. There is good balance in that. Come, eat at my table!"
He waves a hand, his tattered clothing dancing with the motion, and suddenly there is a feast of sugared rocks and sweetened potter's clay on an exquisitely carved honeywood table.
Samen raises a dubious eyebrow at the spread and scoffs in disgust. "I see. You would enslave unsuspecting visitors with Fey temptations. No wonder you've been able to build a community here so quickly. Much like Moon in Light, yes? Dziecko with his thralls in Hearth, and Moon with his mad slaves in Light. Perhaps you could write a tale about it, Abnaki. Unless this is a game, I believe we now have all the answers we came for."
He stares intently at the Oread, looking for any sign of reaction.
Abnaki remains silent, waiting for the oread's answer, but his mind was racing. If needed, he thinks he could pretend to eat some food, but he'd rather avoid the risk. It was a complicated maneuver, and he didn't want to anger the host any further.
Samen and Abnaki, a young ele in hunting leathers is suddenly seated besides the el; her throne is one of thorns rather than roots. Her dark hair has a strong hint of vines in it. "Come now Bozhe, don't tease them so. This one with the tattoos is interesting and brash, and the other a teller of tales no less! Why are you so quick to scare them away with your games?"
Without awaiting a reply, she turns to Samen. "Shall we forget this unpleasantness? You may call me Okshana, and this is Bozhe. What brings you to our domain?" She smiles, dimples at each corner, but you feel no tug of glamour upon your mind.
---
Gabriel and Phon Vos, as you finish your conversation in the alleyway in the Docks district, Ozhna frowns; something has just crossed his mind. "You know, I feel a little uneasy leaving the city without knowing the others are alright. Everytime I blink, another person is going crazy or having their skin ripped off. Should we go to the Stems and ask around, see if they made it to the Quiet Elder safely?" His tone is casual, but you see he keeps his hands busy with nervous coin tricks.
Abnaki is all too keen to let this breeze over. "We had brought an offering, and my compatriot wanted to learn from you. I must confess I also wish to learn, although perhaps my curiosities are of a different nature than my friend here. We are in a time of new legends, to be the first to tell their stories would be a great honor."
Placated, Samen peers around the room curiously. "Very well, all is forgiven. So... I assume you are two of the council of three. So, without being rude, could I please request the third to make their appearance so we may converse more fully?"
"The third is listening...just biding its time for now."
The el named Bozhe by his companion says to Abnaki, "And what is your favorite story of the Fey, taleweaver?"
---
Gabriel and Phon Vos, as you finish your conversation in the alleyway in the Docks district, Ozhna frowns; something has just crossed his mind. "You know, I feel a little uneasy leaving the city without knowing the others are alright. Everytime I blink, another person is going crazy or having their skin ripped off. Should we go to the Stems and ask around, see if they made it to the Quiet Elder safely?" His tone is casual, but you see he keeps his hands busy with nervous coin tricks.
Phon nods, "We should regroup as soon as we can because this can quickly spiral out of control knowing what we know." She didn't want to say it out loud, but Moon's looming presence was felt more than in just the sky.
"Osna, Gabriel, should you lead the way I can be vigilant for us. Never worry about your back, I will guard it." She walked forward before continuing her conversation with Gabriel, "Those veins... Forgive me if I appear distrustful at first, these trying times leave a lot to be desired when it comes to trust." The undine begins to ponder on how she ended up like this, and decided yet again it wasn't the time due to duty.
"What do we know about this Elder?"
"Asking me to pick a favorite story is like asking to pick a favorite star, the scale makes it impossible. You may call me an idealist, but I have always best enjoyed the stories where rivals come together, to face a greater threat. Sometimes it seems that we are so divided, separated along elemental lines. But I am living proof that there can be unity. Yes, the stories of triumph through cooperation, though rare, hold a special place in my heart."
Abnaki and Samen, there is a...tiny tree person sitting on a stump, nestled between the thrones of root and thorn. The voice creaks like a sail, and some of the rounded consonants are difficult to make out.
"Oh, 'ell said! Now, now, Boa-shee," the bearded el's name is drawn out by this voice, "sto' 'arrassing the boy and let him be!" The voice is somehow fussy, despite the harsh snaps and cracks that punctuate every few syllables.
Perhaps a trick of the light, but now Okshana seems much older, even grandmotherly. Her dimples are still there as she smiles, but there are age lines, too. "All three of us are here, then. A treasure hoard with no gems."
"Again we welcome you, and thank you for the remains of those oreads. We will honor them. We have been entertained by a little banter, and now that the Court is all here, I would listen to what you have to say more fully." She looks expectantly at Samen.
---
Answering Phon Vos' question, "Hmm, I would say not much. It starting growing around the same time the steam disappeared, no clue if those are connected. I've never heard an explanation of where these Elders come from. They aren't gods exactly, but...cac, I can't even say for sure what they are, let alone what it might be doing here."
Unable to keep his legs still any longer, Ozhna starts walking to the Elder, using the same path taken by Samen and Abnaki a few candles ago. "I just don't like the feel of it. Better to regroup, like you said, Phon. Come on."
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Samen bows in respect to all three of them. "Of course. I am not as talented as my friend, but I will tell you my tale. I was in Light when Moon rose. I watched the city rip itself apart in his wake. My family and I surely would've been consumed by the cacophony of maddened Sylphs if not for the intervention of Star and Dust. I've inhaled deeply of the essence of Smoke and been guided by the prophecies of Mud. You speak of gems; I've battled gemling infiltrators in the north. I've rejected nature and have learned to alter my own essence; to choose my own aspects."
He pauses for a moment, considering if he need mention anything else in his resume before getting to the point. "More has happened in the last year than in the last hundred. The Steams have vanished, the inquisition evaporated, Moon emerges, Dziecko emerges, there's a drake on this city council, Undines are going comatose (probably due to an as yet unknown elemental), and just this morning we found a Salamander making deals in the cracks of the city. Elementals are on the move in an elen world.
To get to the point, I want to ensure this realm is preserved for elenity, though Volc knows it doesn't deserve it." He thinks of the 'honored' Oreads. "To that end, I would seek to oust elemental tyrants claiming godhood and send them back from whence they came. This certainly includes Moon. Possibly Volcano. Frankly, I'm here to evaluate if this Elder will aid in the fight, or if elenity must stand alone. Secondarily, if you can shed light on why the boundaries of the realms are thinning, it would be good if we could prevent further degradation and perhaps even push it back."
Samen has an instinct to prepare for a fight, but realizes that this deep in, it would be pointless. As much as he would have elens stand on their own feet, he is now at the mercy of elementals.
Samen, the large, airy space that seemed so empty a moment ago is now filled with laughter: pine trees guffaw pinecones while a emerald butterflies twinkle in amusement. A whole cacophony of plant creatures, some more elen and some more vegetable, chorus around you in gales of happy sound.
Just as quickly, you are in an empty Court of Three again. Okshana's voice is quiet, but sounds loud in the silence. "Did these polite clothes fool you? Did you think you were dealing with elens even here, warlock?" Her hair is all vines now, and her limbs are not so clearly defined under the green tendrils. "The basket weavers and rock tenders are oreads, but your pleas fall on deaf ears here, elen."
Bozhe gestures for Okshana to restrain herself as she begins to slither down her throne. Reluctantly, she checks the movement, and once more regains her elen aspect.
Bozhe now speaks, eyes intent. "You are asking for allies, but do you speak for elenity? Will the Fey have a place iafter this war is over, if we aid against scoundrels like Volcano and Moon?"
Samen, truthfully intimidated by the display, is equally perturbed at Okshana's snub. He leans into the anger instead of the fear and snaps back at her. "Of course you're elementals, but that doesn't mean you need to be an ass! I came here in peace, seeking knowledge and friends. I had a shred of a hope that elen and elemental might need not be enemies, but allies. At the very least I'm glad I could amuse you."
Bozhe's calming influence affects Samen as well. He takes a deep breath, a lung-full of Sky, and tries to level his response. "Most of elenity doesn't know there is to be a war. We live and die small elen lives. It is our nature. We are fractured by centuries of living scattered lives in fear of the Dark. We have begun efforts, starting with the Oreads in the north, to unify under the banner of 'The Tribe of Peace'. More work is necessary. I don't seek the banishment of all elementals, I seek freedom for elenity from those who would enslave us. If the Fey can be good neighbors instead of tyrants, we have no quarrel. I have to ask, though... don't the Fey already have a place? What is in this realm you even want?"
Bozhe is silent. In his contemplation, he becomes more treeish, blending into the roots of his throne. Finally, shaking off the embrace of the roots, he walks down a succession of wooden stairs that appear as he needs them, until he reaches the floor beside you.
He looks like a tired oread now, rather than a creature of bark and xylem. Up close, you see his tattered clothing is that of a guard - an el of the Watch. "That's a complicated tale in its own right, but let's say two things for now. The first is that we can be better neighbors than wildfires and madness. Ask the oreads up north - we already appear now and then in the northern Elders."
"As to what we want...well, we need the same thing you do. Help, with our own war. Again, a long tale. We will leave the details for later, but suffice to say we need powerful magic to help with a war in our own realm."
---
Phon Vos and Gabriel, you are now under the wide canopy of the Quiet Elder, which spans several streets and avenues, essentially claiming a large neighborhood right in the middle of Hearth. While Gabriel remains unseen, Osna the sylph and Phon Vos the undine draw looks from the locals - not hostile, but curious. Everyone you see is an oread.
Samen's brow furrows deep in contemplation. Bozhe had answered much, but revealed little. So many distinct curiosities are piqued. He tries to stay focused. "You wouldn't invest the resources in establishing a foothold here if you didn't think what you needed was nearby. What magic is available in our world that is out of reach of even the Fey? I suspect your enemy will someday become our enemy if things remain on their current course, so I'm inclined to offer what assistance is within my power. What do you think, Abnaki?"
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"I have long admired the fey from afar; I have no great love for trees, Earth and Fire are more to my tastes. Although my heart lies with my desire to become a earth walker, capable of exploring even the heart of Volcano, my mind knows that many of the Elder are not as inclined to speak openly and plainly about their goals, and do not have the best interests of elenkind at heart." He pauses for a second. "I have no quarrel with the fey, indeed my only true "enemy" is the spread of the dark, and the corruption it brings. I make it a matter of principal to help those that I can. The Oreads that we brought as an offering are proof of that. What is it that you seek? If I am able to help you, I would be glad to do so, limited as my capacity may be."
Gabriel follows unseen, preferring the silent walk, and quiet contemplation of the depths of his mind. Not dealing with the insults of others afraid of that which they do not understand.
Osna is not particularly confident in the lead role, but with Gabriel in the shadows and Phon Vos on guard, he had little choice. Rather than approaching any of the staring locals, he picks his way closer to the Elder - not a difficult feat at all.
Phon Vos and Gabriel, as you come closer to one of the many entrances to the gargantuan trunk of the Quiet Elder, you are approached by an old oread ele. She leans on a cane as she walks. "May we help you? You have a searching look on your faces." Her tone is kindly.
"Is it just the two of you here, looking for your friends?"
(something along those lines, depending on how your answer goes. important thing is she is confirming its just two of you in your group)
---
Bozhe looks genuinely surprised at the proclamations of Samen and Abnaki. With his head cocked to the side, he says, "And here I thought city oreads smelling so strongly of strange magic would be full of boasting. Still..." Abnaki can clearly see that Bozhe is hesitant to trust most elens, even most oreads.
The small tree person has no face; instead, it creates small expressions--smile, frown, surprise--using its many branches and twigs like a puppeteer would use his hands and fingers. The creaking voice seems to come from a hollow knot near the center of its trunk. "Come now, Boa-shee, 'e speaks powerful names - Dust and Star, Mud and Smoke. We m'ust trust someone, someday, and here the twig-cracks are harder to understand, " 'o 'hy not now?"
"Calm yourself Shchelchok, you do none of us any favors by riling yourself up," the ele scolds. You wonder if Shchelchok is young or old, for a Fey, to deserve such a tone.
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Bozhe frowns at your inspection. "Something interest you, warlock?"
Abnaki waits patiently; this is not his conversation, not really.
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Samen realizes he was staring. "Oh, uh, indeed. You said you smelled strange magic. I don't know if it's the magic you're interested in, but I specialize in... mutability."
He plants his staff on the wood beneath him and drives magical tendrils roots from it into the ground and himself, making a channel for the essence to flow.
You might want to make way for a moment, dear.
He draws deeply of their nature and displaces his natural Oread heritage once again. Done so many times now, it simply feels like changing a shirt.
His skin softens and gets grainy, turning light brown instead of grey. He grows a foot taller, but loses weight in the process. As the spell finishes, he stretches out his long limbs, feeling the boundaries of a novel body.
"Tak jak powiedziałem; Wybieram własne aspekty."
Abnaki, not having seen Samen do such a jarring transformation before, jumps a little bit as it occurs. He tries to think if perhaps he had heard of someone studying this form of magic before...
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Phon Vos and Gabriel, as you come closer to one of the many entrances to the gargantuan trunk of the Quiet Elder, you are approached by an old oread ele. She leans on a cane as she walks. "May we help you? You have a searching look on your faces." Her tone is kindly.
** spoiler omitted **
"We are looking for some of our companions, they came here earlier looking to speak. They may have gone by the names Samen or Abnaki." She raises a hand politely, "Have you seen them?
Hearing the next question, she wasn't one to lie, not especially while in possible hostile territory. "There is a third, one who slinks about. I'm sure they will show themself."
Phon Vos, the old oread gives you a pleasant, wrinkled smile. "My name is Dowanhowee. A pleasure to meet you. Yes, I know where your companions are. I will take you there." She looks expectantly for the third member of your group.
---
Samen, Shchelchok comes down from his stump throne to inspect you. His brances pantomime smiles and glee at your transformation.
" v'ry good! Yes!" He clacks all of his smallest twig-fingers against his trunk, which Samen understands to be laughter.
Bozhe looks less enthusiastic. He replies in the raspy, wooden language of the Fey,
"Bierzesz anioły. Przerażasz mnie, czarowniku."
"You bind the elements to your will. You frighten me, warlock.
In Common now, he says in a neutral tone, "Well, we have had surprises enough to fill all our bellies today."
Okshana, now appearing in a more matronly age with green hair carefully piled upon her head, touches Bozhe on the chest. "Don't be so negative, Bozhe. Honestly, you are so ridiculous sometimes." She hits him playfully on the shoulder a few times, as if waving him away.
She focuses her attention on Samen and Abnaki. "Now, I would dearly love for you both to come visit us again tomorrow, after we've had time to talk this out amongst ourselves."
"And you, storyteller, will bring your very best story of the Dead Witch. I'm looking foward to it."
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Abnaki bows."It would be my pleasure to return again."
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Samen reaches out his arm toward Bozhe to offer a handshake. "Dobry. Podstawą szacunku jest wzajemny strach."
"Of course. It was an honor to meet you. Shared roots."
Gabriel shows himself, though only briefly, I prefer to stay unknown for my own and others safety, although hello, i am Gabriel Izalith
Gabriel, the old oread Dowanhowee smiles at you in a way that stirs vague memories of your grandmother, though she died when you were very young.
"Very good, I'm so happy to see all of you. Here, I will take you."
She takes the three of you around the trunk of the Elder, which is as big as a city block itself. She walks at a moderate pace despite the cane, humming some soft tune to herself as she goes. "Here we are," she says, nodding.
Before she can go into the carven entryway, you see a strange face peer out, only for an instant. You catch a shocked look, then the figure retreats.
The elen was probably an oread, but tough to say because they were extremely disfigured - they had skin that looked melted, and open sores on their skin.
Dowanhowee looks confused by the strange person, but she only has time to give a hmph of consternation before two figures come out of another entryway, this one an arch of ivy.
--
Gabriel and Phon Vos, you see your companion Abnaki, and walking next to him an odd, long-limbed elen you assume is some kind of Fey. You are not sure where Samen is.
Ozhna does not even notice the two newcomers. He is frowning deeply at whatever he has just seen.
Osna has given you the wasp stinger you requested - he said to be ready for the pain, despite the small size of it.
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Samen doesn't even notice the lack of recognition. "Ah, good of you to join us. Unfortunately, you missed the excitement. Our business here is concluded for now, though we will be returning tomorrow. Let's head back to the camp. We can fill each other in on the way. I'm curious what Ozhna's friend had to say."
Osna turns to you after another beat, blinks, and says, "Who are you? Did one of the tree people want to join the Swords?"