Roots smiles up, up, up at Nidintu. The Root Leshy's roots firmly planted in the soil.
Tastes like peanut butter and raspberry jam on warm bread newly baked!
The Druid winks.
"Peanut... butter? How do you make butter out of peanuts? Does that not require cream from raw milk? You're not telling me there is a thing like peanut milk as well, are you? " Phoebe asks, looking up - or rather down, since it was Roots - with a mixture of surprise and wonder at such a substance existing.
She glances to the drink of water (?) at her side and intensely frowns at it for a moment, willing it to change to the fabled peanut milk, if only to see if she could shape the First World to a degree like these other fey could!
Roots smiles at Phoebe. His blight blue eyes Sparkling with mischief.
Way back in my younger days (6 weeks ago), I met a farmer who made his own peanut butter and raspberry jam. He was a bit stingy, but I once accidentally fall into the pot once when looking at the bubbles. It was really hot!
"Oh! How... dreadful, I think? Did you get out all right? Boiling water can give you some really bad burns. Not the type of water I'd ever want to swim in, that's for sure."
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Stretching his vines further into the soil, Roots responds
I was mostly fine. The real pain was from the slow and steady Stride from the stickiness for a few hours. It took me like 4 long hours to make it to a pond.
Roots grins.
I made like hundreds of new Bee friends!
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After a while, Cerise comes over to where the group is gathered around the refreshments. "Kilava told me what has happened. You were all so heroic, charging a nightmare dragon, even a young one! Oh, I wish I could have been there to immortalize the battle in a play!" Her gaze drifts off into the distance for a moment before the nymph shakes herself.
"Anyway. I have been charged by our lady to explain to you why you are really here - much as I appreciate your help earlier with my play, you were all absolute darlings, muah" she blows a kiss in everyone's general direction, then she takes a deep breath, gesturing sweepingly with one arm.
"A very long time ago, by your reckoning, there was a drama in our ranks." She breathes out the word 'drama' with a very dramatic effect. "I will not bore you with the details, but if you've been paying attention to my play you already know some of the story." Cerise winks. "Long story short, some raw fey essence made its way into your world and was scattered over an area that is now called the Stolen Lands. I understand that mortals have made many attempts to settle that region, but of course they all failed." She pauses to let the information sink in, then continues. "We - that is, my lady and those who serve her - would like to preserve the unique nature of that area, but we recognize that mortals are persistent, and the inevitability that someone will eventually succeed in 'civilizing' it. So we decided to press our own claim on it, but of course we cannot do so directly." She beams at everyone. "That's where you come in! All of you have some sort of connection to us and our world, so we hope that we can work together in this." She looks expectantly at each of you in turn.
Nidintu, having eaten some of the food presented, stands up from the table as Cerise approaches. With a bow to the summer hora, he begins to speak.
"I would be honored to serve you and your liege by enforcing Lady Fanderay's claim on these lands. If you feel that the weakened borders between the First World and the Prime Material would be best preserved there, I will obediently carry out your instructions."
He pauses briefly, as if considering something, before continuing with a hopeful look on his face. "As regards the story, I believe the untimely disappearance of Hanith prevented us from learning the full truth of the matter, and I have a keen interest in stories myself - though I fear this one may be more to my father's tastes than mine." He shudders as he recalls the gruesome scenes that adorned the cover of his father's copy of Kazavon: Portrait of a Prophet. "If you have time, I would like to hear the rest of it. What happened after the prince gave the gift to the wicked maid?"
When Cerise walks over to explain her reasons for wanting them, Roots thinks for a few minutes before answering.
You wants us to secretly represent you in regards to acquiring these lands. And, how do we do that?
The Root leshy begins digging through his pockets.
An acorn. Some string. Three cool looking leaves that have seen much better days.
Roots looks up at her.
I could get a part time job?
Nidintu nods at the diminutive leshy's question. "Roots does raise a valid point. If our task is to establish a nation of our own in the Stolen Lands, its people guardians of this ancient essence, I'm afraid I may not have the necessary skills to effectively administrate a principality of any significant size."
He raises his eyebrows. "On the other hand, if our task is simply to block access to the essence..." The armored warrior shrugs. "I was a bandit for an appreciable fraction of a century, and while I think most of my friends have been executed by now, I may still know some people who know some other people who would be amenable to re-evaluating their chosen career paths, given Brevoy's increased anti-brigand activities in the area."
Halrod considers this information carefully, listening to Cerise, Roots-Sink-Deep and Nidintu-Bel before formulating his own question.
"This claim you have. Could you be more specific? Does the scattering of...er... "essence" amount to a legal claim in the First World? Also, what sort of cooperation were you seeking to establish, Lady? Are you hiring mercenaries or offering to be the patroness of new colonists?"
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"Um, if I may, Mistress Cerise? Laying claim to a land generally requires a large amount of settlers, and some sort of force able to protect and govern them. And while I'm honored by the faith Lady Fanderay and you all seem in place in us, I personally do not have an army to call on. So... where should we start with acquiring those?" Phoebe hesitantly interjects, looking to each of the others in turn to see if they were better off than she herself there.
She rests on Nidintu last. "And... while I suppose a force made up entirely of bandits and former bandits is one way to claim a territory, I'm... not sure if I would ever feel safe living in such a community. I imagine the same is true for most people. I'm really sorry if that offends you, Nidintu.. but I feel it should be said." She hangs her head apologetically and looks away from the giant afterwards.
"Oh, the foolish prince did not marry, and the maid in her palace started saying she was the rightful queen, which angered the empress, who banished both of them." Cerise rushes through the summary of the story, intent on continuing the other topic of discussion.
Cerise claps her hands and beams, apparently not the least bit fazed by the questions. "I am SO glad you asked!" She clasps her hands behind her back and begins pacing back and forth, head thrown back a little. "You may know our kind as capricious and impulsive, but we do have A Plan." Yes, she definitely capitalized those two words. "We caught wind that some human noble in... Rastaff? Restrum? One of those places. Anyway, she intends to make another attempt to settle the Stolen Lands, and will grant charters for that purpose to any brave enough to try it." She whirls, opening her arms to encompass the group. "So that's where you come in! Isn't it clever? You will have the backing of this noble, including legal claims and such," she stabs a finger upwards, "and! our support if you agree to our terms."
She frowns a little at Halrod. "Since the laws of mortals do not pertain to our kind, our claim would not be recognized, but that doesn't mean that it doesn't exist! Besides, we do not seek exclusive rights. We simply want the Stolen Lands to be a place where fey and the wild places they inhabit would remain undisturbed. Mortals who respect this, some of whom already live there, are welcome to call those lands home as well."
"Hey, that does sound good, actually!" The naiad says, brightening over the notion that there was , in fact, some sort of plan.
...Assuming this noble really gave the necessary support and resources.
...And said figure wouldn't change their mind or do away with them when it no longer suited them.
...And there wasn't some underlying, more sinister reason all previous settlement attempts had failed that was being very conveniently swept under the stream.
...And the fey would actually uphold their bargains made here, without some surprise cost too heavy to pay later. Promises of protection and acceptance from the Wolf of Summer herself had a 'too good to be true' element to it, recent near-death experience aside.
Okay, maybe there were a lot of unknowns and assumptions for this to actually be a good idea, but still! It DID sound fun, and there were only so many Eldest-level threats and dragons out there, right?
"...Wait, what am I thinking!?"
"Still, I don't suppose we could ask to to elaborate on, well, everything?" She continues in more cautiously optimistic fashion, her more responsible heritage just barely eeking out the other. "Such as... who is this noble, and how do we know we can trust them? Why would it be so natural for all previous settlement attempts to fail? Is there some known local danger we should we aware of? And which terms do you speak of, Miss Cerise, in return for your aid? We are all here by your express summons to do this task, aren't we? So... aren't we already working together?" She finished, clearly a bit confused over this last point in particular.
Roots looks from Halrod to Phoebe to Nidintu to Cerise. The Root Leshy's mouth hanging open....
Nidintu bows to Cerise. "I have already sworn fealty to the Lady Fanderay, so my compliance is not an issue - I simply ask that you tell me what terms I must follow during my time in the Stolen Lands. As for this Plan, it seems far more likely to me that we will succeed in our attempt to protect the Stolen Lands with the power of an influential noble on our side, rather than the confused gaggle of inebriated malcontents we were likely to rally under my original, admittedly ill-conceived idea. I will attempt to follow it to the best of my ability."
The tall warrior adjusts his spectacles before continuing. "However, I find it likely that my various duties may conflict to some extent. In addition to your Plan and whatever this noblewoman of 'Rastaff' requests of me, I also have been tasked by Erastil with maintaining the roads and rivers of the relevant area, a duty symbolized by this gift from his avatar." He holds up his ornate compass. "Little could shake my loyalty to my liege Lady Fanderay, but I thought it prudent to inform you of my other obligations."
Squinting his blue eyes at the sound of Rastaff, the small Druid thinks for a full minute, before smiling.
Do you mean Restov? That is near these Stolen Lands. It's where I grew up! Erastil charged me with protecting those lands! I guess that I would still be doing my job, so I am in!
Roots-Sink-Deep smiles uo at those around him.
I have never been to the city proper, but a friend of mine knows the area well. She is a dryad.
The Root leshy slides along side his friend, Nidintu.
Erastil has chosen well too!
Nidintu looks slightly relieved as Roots identifies the city of "Rastaff" as Restov. "I had initially thought we would have to travel to Redstave, in Pitax, and I was afraid my chances of successfully completing Lady Fanderay's mission might be negatively influenced by a bounty I may have on my head there."
He clears his throat before continuing. "My friends and I often... coerced indefinite-term loans from Pitaxian merchants going south around the Narlmarches, and while I sincerely doubt we were ever successful enough to attract the attention of anyone important, I can attest to the fact that at least one weapons retailer in Redstave does not know the current whereabouts of one of his mauls."
"As for Restov, I have never seen it myself, but several mercenaries I met on the road claimed they were visiting the city because of an extremely generous business offer made by someone named Aldori - possibly this charter of which you speak."
Lani eats her fill as she listens to the proposition. The gnome nods. "Of course. As part of the terms of my pact, I am compelled to fulfill one request from any fey that knows my name. Plus, won't it just be a grand joke to play on the nobles of Restov, to be pursuing our own secret mission whilst they are none the wiser? The dramatic irony is superb!"
"I'm in!" Clementine raises a dewdrop of honeyed nectar as a toast."Sounds like quite the adventure to be had!"
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Cerise beams again, this time a little strained. "So many questions." She throws herself onto a giant, oblong mushroom cap that shimmers indigo and purple - and which most definitely was not there a second ago. The mushroom bounces slightly under her as the nymph settles into a reclining pose.
"Alright, where to start... Restov, that's it! Thank you, little one. The lady's name is, hold on, I have it." She squeezes her eyes shut and screws her face in concentration. "Amanda? Jalori?" She opens her eyes and throws her head back, gaze searching. "Babe, help me out here! What was the name of that mortal lady?"
From a few paces away, Kilava stirs from her nap under a tree. "Hm?" Her yellow eyes slit open.
Cerise snaps her fingers a few times. "The... you know. Charter lady." Kilava closes her eyes again. "Jamandi Aldori."
"Yes! I knew it was something like that! Well, there you have it. Lady Jaldori herself!" She touches a finger to her nose and points it at Nidintu-Bel. "Probably the same as the one you mentioned. She is funding expeditions into the Stolen Lands and offering charters, something to do with their politics." Flopping on her back, she continues. "As to why previous attempts failed, my personal theory is that it has to do with the essence. The same way this realm is constantly changing and just bursting with primal energies - if anyone attempts to establish order and anything approaching linearity..." She makes a poof motion with her hands. "Not saying that the Stolen Lands would be as bad, but it would certainly make things difficult, especially if one was looking to tame, to conquer, to subdue."
She props herself up on one elbow, gaze passing over the six figures assembled around her. "And that is how you can succeed where all the others failed. Work with the land and its inhabitants, bolster the strength that is already there. Preserve the wilderness and treat the fey inhabitants with respect and kindness."
A shadow of sadness passes over her features. "In most corners of your world, my kind have been pushed out, hunted, persecuted. Entire forests cut down to build ships of war, lakes drained to make farmland. And so, little by little, our magic dies and your world becomes a little more predictable and boring." She pauses, takes a deep breath. "Let there be one place where that magic endures."
"That sounds wonderful," says Halrod. "I would welcome such a place. And... you will aid us in securing Lady Aldori's support? That too I would welcome."
Nidintu nods. "I would be glad to help, and I will do whatever I can to protect this essence. If this Lady Aldori seeks explorers of the Stolen Lands for whatever reason, I will gladly take the opportunity to seek out key points where this essence is strongest." He seems to hesitate for a moment, unsure if his words will anger the powerful fey surrounding him. "If I may ask one last question, is this essence centralized in a series of nexuses, or is it spread evenly over the Stolen Lands? I believe the former might be easier to protect, but I will gladly aid you in either case."
Roots listens to Cerise explain her theory on the matter. His blue eyes harden as she mentions In most corners of your world, my kind have been pushed out, hunted, persecuted. Entire forests cut down to build ships of war, lakes drained to make farmland. .
That is because I wasn't there to protect them! I shall not fail!
Phoebe finds herself so entranced by Cerise's words of passionate valor that all her reservations simply slipped from her mind. Issues? Were there issues? Surely not! A fun AND noble challenge; what could be better? She nods more and more resolutely and stands just a little bit straighter as the elder fey reached the end of her speach.
"Of course! I will do whatever I can do help, Miss Cerise!" She exclaims, smiling brightly. "Oh, and if you want a play, I'll write that too! Many of them! So that next time we meet, we'll have a fresh script and you can all share in the fun we had on the way!"
Cerise bounces upright from her fungal divan, sliding off to begin pacing again. "Yes, our local agents will secure invitations for you to attend Lady Mandori's little gathering. As for nexuses, there are some areas where the essence is more concentrated, especially the primeval forests. I believe one of them is called the Narlmarches by the Restov people, but its inhabitants call it the Margreve, or just the Old Forest."
She turns to beam at the group. "I am so happy that you are agreeing to our plan, and some of you are so enthusiastic, too! I shall send someone to help guide you and advise you once you are back in your realm, so that we can keep a line of communication open."
"As you command, Lady Cerise. I will gladly follow the instructions of you or your representative in pursuit of this essence."
Nidintu thinks for a moment, recalling an old campfire tale from years ago. "If our goal is the Old Forest, I suspect it may already have defenders of its own. My friend Cragger once told me that the Taldans tried to claim it hundreds of years ago, intent on using its resources to support their vast empire. According to Cragger, their ghosts still haunt the woods, endlessly fleeing the ravenous beast that claimed their lives all those years ago." The warrior shudders. "It is not a place to be entered lightly - or with evil intent, for that matter."
Halrod has spent years traipsing to every part of the Stolen Lands trying to unravel his own personal mystery. He knows a little bit about the Narlmarches.
"Assume that we secure the backing of Jamandi Aldori for a settlement in the Stolen Lands. Contacting her would be a matter of sending a letter to Restov. How shall we contact you, my Lady Cerise?"
In response to Halrod, Cerise tilts her head towards Kilava, who climbs to her feet, resting a hand on the trunk of the tree underneath which she was napping. A beat, and her hand and arm sink through the bark almost up to her shoulder. She frowns in concentration as she seems to be rooting around inside the tree, then pulls her arm out again.
Held by the scruff of the neck, a speckled white and grey cat emerges, yowling in protest. On closer inspection, its body is covered not in fur, but in feathers like those of an owl, and its tufted ears complete the strigine resemblance. Oh, and the wings, of course - which flap a few times, half-unfurled.
"This is Flutterkins. She will be able to contact either of us when needed, and can offer insight or guidance if she is able."
Flutterkins blinks owlishly at the group.
"Hello, Flutterkins," says Halrod, holding out an arm to allow the owl/cat to land. "I hope we shall be friends."
Turning to Cerise, the elf bows. "I believe we are ready, Lady."
Nidintu approaches as Kilava retrieves the avian intermediary from her location inside the tree. After a moment of hesitation while he ponders what to do, he extends his hand to the creature. "Greetings, Miss Flutterkins. I hope that with your aid, we can successfully attain our goals."
The warrior glances between Halrod and Cerise. "Unless you require us here, Miss Cerise, I am prepared to begin enforcing Lady Fanderay's will."
Roots just starts singing, looking at Nidintu.
Come sail away with me....
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Kilava releases Flutterkins, and the owlcat snaps its wings open and glides to perch on Halrod's arm. As she begins to preen her feathers, an image forms into the elf's mind, of him scratching Flutterkins between her ears and on the edge of her jaw. There is a tinge of hopefulness for a treat as well, although it is unclear what would constitute a treat for such a creature.
Kilava comes to stand next to Cerise, and the nymph takes her arm and clasps their hands together. "Unfortunately, we cannot send you to Restov. You have to be returned to the place we took you from, but I trust that you will make your own way to the city and meet up again once you are there. There is an inn right outside the city called The Green Thread, your letters of invitation will wait for you there."
Smiling fondly at everyone, Cerise continues. "Now, I suggest that you all sit or lie down and close your eyes. I shall cast a sleep spell on you, to ease your travel between realms."
===========================
You awake in the same place you had fallen asleep before being brought to the First World. It was the height of summer then, but it is much colder now, and the air is heavy with moisture. Halrod finds Flutterkins curled up next to him, nose under her wing and snoring softly.
Roots (blue eyes moistened with farewell tears) approaches Kilava and Cerise, his little vine arms out wide, his little vine legs churning through the pink leaves, purple daisies and hopping mad grasshoppers the color of Hailey Quinn's most mad outfit.
I will miss you soon much!
Waking refreshed and restored, the small Root leshy hops to his vine legs, turns around in a full 360 degrees, and plops back down amongst the natural green frost-covered grass.
You know Roots that we have quite a trip to take. It should only take us a few days to get to Restov for this new mission.
Roots turns his bark head to his left, blinks his blurry blue eyes and smiles as big as an elephant 's!
Well hello, Marianne! My do I have lots to tell you on the way!
The smiling dryad winks at her small protégé.....
Nidintu remains silent as he receives his instructions from Cerise and Kilava, obediently sitting as Cerise casts her spell.
Awakening in his simple campsite, he looks around at his drastically altered surroundings, noting the seeming change from summer and mentally reviewing his duties. Protect the fey essence in the Old Forest, follow any further instructions from Lady Fanderay or her... owl-cat intermediary, protect the trails in accordance with the will of Erastil... He sighs. ...keep Roots from causing egregious destruction. The elf peers down the road in both directions, but fails to notice any travelers. Packing up his gear (including several weighty but well-used books detailing various tales of heroism and valor), he sets off down the road to Restov.
Phoebe lets out a cute yawn then as the sleeping Naiad turns around and snuggles in a bed of branches and leaves...
...Before realising she wasn't quite alone anymore and her eyes shoot open . She scrambles to her feet and looks around. "You? You're all really here... so it wasn't a dream."
"...Well, that's great! So we're really working for Lady Fanderay, then! Oh, this is so exciting! Maybe now I have some actual time I can go and wite a decent play without taking just the page they liked best from each script and glueing it all together!"
She leans forward slightly and studies everyone in turn. "I wonder which of us is best suited to be the main character? Who has that valiancy, that doughtiness to overcome anything? The most tragic, unfair backstory to make the audience root for them and overlook all the plot armor bestowed upon them?"
She seems to consider momentarily, then looks at Halrod. "Hm... well, you look appropriate forlorn, Sir Halrod. What's your story?"
It seemed as though matters like where exactly they were or how to actually get to Restov were of secondary concern to her right then.
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Clementine arches his back and stretches, eyes still closed as if to hold onto that sweet summer dream for as long as possible. But eventually the lure of adventure is too strong for the tiny fairy, and his eyes pop open. The dusty brown of a dried leaf, propped up on a fat toadstool - a makeshift lean-to for one - fills his vision until he pulls himself off his back to sit up on his bedroll.
"Well that was certainly exciting," he tells a potted sprout as he rolls his traveling things into his bed. "Not every day a fundamental force of the First World invites you to join her pack, you know. I didn't even have time to shave!" He rubs his smooth chin with a cheeky grin, then grabs a few gills from the mushroom and starts using them to wrap up some nut butter and sliced cheese for breakfast.
"Alright, Cerise said to head for Restov. That's... probably that way." Clementine spins around and points in a random direction, then finishes packing up the rest of his things and starts marching. "And if not..." he adds to the sprout poking out the top of his pack, "Well, there'll probably be someone who knows a shortcut."
Over the next few days, Fanderay's chosen make their way to Restov and The Green Thread. The innkeeper, an elderly half-orc woman, greets them warmly.
"You made the right choice coming here! The inns in the city are all packed, looks like everyone and their dog has heeded Lady Jamandi's call for heroes." She winks at senior hunting dog currently sleeping on his back in front of the fireplace.
"Well, I'll get some rooms ready for you, and let me know if you want food or drink." She points to a slate board covered in colorful chalk scribbles that detail the day's menu and embellished with painstakingly drawn pictures of vegetables, flowers and fruit.
* Beet Sour Soup with Dumplings - Bread included!
* Hearty Stew! Carrots, Potatos, Parsnips, Onions. In a bread Bowl!
* Egg Scramble with Fresh Herbs on toasted Flatbread
* Fresh apple Pie!
* Cider, Ale, Apple Juice!
"Oh, and I was to give these to you as well." She rummages under the timeworn wooden counter and emerges holding six sealed envelopes, only slightly crumpled.
Smiling wide as they enter the Green Thread, Roots's blue eyes wide as the Druid spies and smells the sweet and savory aromas dancing about the common room.
I wonder if they have and chocolate-dipped grasshoppers!
The silent response from his dryad companion causes Roots to pry (not easily) his fascinated face away from the majestic view and to his left. His right. His behind. His fore-hind. The ceiling. Under 3 tables, two furry cloaks (one with an angry-looking gnome face) and even the bearskin rug.
Excuse me. Watch your feet. Those are really nice boots!
Not finding any sign of her, the Root leshy shrugs, grins and approaches the main bar.
Scrambling up a recently vacated stool, Roots orders a drink.
Excuse me, but by any chance you got a root beer float?
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Nidintu enters the Green Thread next, his aureate eyes scanning the common room for familiar faces and lighting on the unmistakable visage of his brother-in-faith Roots. He accepts the sealed letter from the innkeeper with a bow of gratitude and profuse thanks.
Sitting down on a nearby stool, he glances over the slate board before addressing the innkeeper. "If I might trouble you for a bowl of stew?" It's been... at least several months since I last had a meal like this. Come to think of it, I'm not sure what month it currently is - it was summer last I checked, but our jaunt into the First World seems to have shifted us forward at least one season. I should probably check on that... "On a related note, what month is it?"
The tiefling looks over the sealed envelope in his hands. I wonder if these envelopes contain important addendums to The Plan? The seal on this one is rather interesting... it reminds me of a truly fascinating book I once read on the creation and usage of sealing wax. I certainly hope I can share this interesting and useful knowledge with my newfound traveling companions!
"I'd love to have some stew as well, please," Phoebe answers the half-orc, cheerfully plopping down on the bench next to Nidintu and Clementine while Roots scuttled around under the table momentarily. "Haaah..." She exhales happily, content with having a decent bench to sit on after days of walking and frantic course correction to make it here in time.
Sensing no real request for or attempts at subterfuge from the Inn's patron, she opens her letter and reads the contents, curious for the message directed at her.
She looks up from reading when dinner is served and breaths in the delicious scent of the stew. "Say, I don't suppose anyone here has any experience with this lady Mandy we are meeting?" she asks before digging in. "Her name doesn't ring any bells to me, but then again, every time I try thinking of it, it seems to change in my mind. Hm..." She considers for a moment, then gasps! "Oh no! Do you think she might be cursed!? No wonder she needs help!"
The sealed envelopes contain an invitation to Lady Jamandi Aldori's Call for Heroes event, which is to be held at her mansion in Restov in a couple of days. The invitation is "to the bearer of this writ", rather than specific names.
The innkeeper bustles about bringing orders of food and drink. The food is flavorful and filling, and she keeps glancing at people as they begin to eat, watching their reactions.
"Month?" She taps the farmer's almanac nailed to a wall, open at the page with the current month's calendar. "Seventeenth of Calistril, dear. Waxing crescent."
Nidintu thanks the innkeeper after she points out the almanac. Having finished his inspection of the wax seal, he opens the envelope and reads its contents, eating industriously as he does so. "I have thus far noticed no difficulties remembering Lady Talari's name, but I will be sure to ask her if she is cursed when we encounter her. I can't say I have ever met her, as this is the closest to Restov I have ever been, but as mentioned before, a number of mercenaries I met did reference her."
After a moment, he looks at Phoebe, raising one eyebrow. "You mentioned that you were from Thousand Voices, but I don't recall ever hearing of a town by that name. Is it near the Branthlend Forest? I've never been past the Margreve myself."
Glitterbloom chirps happily at Flutterkins, recognizing her as a kindred spirit!
***
Lani arrives at the inn last, her hair and clothing disheveled, a long-suffering expression on her face. "You know, a funny thing happened on the way to The Green Thread... But I'll tell you about it later. Suffice it that I have made it here, in mostly one piece, and still with a sense of humor about me."
She hops on a bar stool and orders a tall glass of hard cider as she catches up with her fey-crossed companions.
Roots hops up and down on his stool (stew spoon in his mouth), as his new and old (like 2 months) friends begin to arrive!
The excited Root leshy proceeds to grab his bowl, hops down from his stool and gathers bowls, spoons and napkins for the bunch!
Excuse me, nice barkers lady (sir?), but my good friends would like sum ov yer delicious stew!
Roots then proceeds to grant hugs (spoon still in his mouth).
Phoebe pockets the note in her dress, making a mental note she still had the clothes from the play - there'd been no opportunity to change them on the way. Still, now that they were in the city, it would probably do well to get something more modest and soon . This was the sort of thing to wear during a performance, not on the road. And heavens forbid she showed up back home in anything less than a handpicked set of aquatic plants!
'Home...'
Her mood falters at the thought, but seeing the kind lady glancing at them expectantly, she forced a smiles. "It's delicious - I really like the stew! It reminds me of the vegetable dishes in Pitax."
After a moment, he looks at Phoebe, raising one eyebrow. "You mentioned that you were from Thousand Voices, but I don't recall ever hearing of a town by that name. Is it near the Branthlend Forest? I've never been past the Margreve myself."
"Ah, well..." She looks up at the towering mass of intellectual muscle that was Nidintu and a hint of homesick longing creps into her tone, her gaze growing distant. "It is a forest far to the southwest, on the other side of the Narlmarches, in between Pitax and the border of Numeria. Many creatures native to the wilds live there, mostly in good harmony with eachother. The river glades is where the Naiads and likeminded fey dwell, and where I was born and raised for the most part. It... is a place of great beauty devoted to the persuit of artistry. Sometimes, outsiders from far away lands seek our help, to serve as muses to them and aid them with what they are stuck with. We take such requests and vows of favor very seriously; it is seen as a duty of our kind to guide along the progress of science, arts, medicine and the like."
She trails off and shakes her head. "Come to think of it, Mother and the others must be greatly worried for me to disappear like I did when I was summoned. I should have asked Fanderay or Cerise to relay a message back for me before leaving... but I fear that when it comes down to it, I have too much of Mother's impulsive nature; to get too swept away in the moment."
"Nidintu! Miss Phoebe! Miss Lani! Wow! Taste this stew!"
The Leshy's overly enthusiastic attitude and innocence pull her from her revery and she chuckles, proceeding to pat him gently as he eats. "Yes, it is quite nice, isn't it?"
After a night's rest in the Green Thread's simple, but comfortable rooms, and a day exploring the city of Restov, perhaps making a few purchases or simply enjoying the sights, the group is ready to make their way towards the manor of Lady Jamandi Aldori, where a banquet is to be held ahead of the event.
The manor rests on top of a hill at the edge of the city, with a cobblestone path leading up to it. Flanked by majestic oak trees and well-manicured hedges, the path winds its way up the side of the hill for nearly a mile, past a two‑story guard barracks, the stables, and a dozen thatched‑roof cottages that likely house the families of the manor's servants and retainers. The manor itself is a sprawling, three-story structure constructed of light gray mortared stone, surrounded by hedge-lined rose gardens and ancient trees. Everything is carefully arranged to give off an air of nobility, history and grandeur - although in comparison to the wild majesty of the First World it might seem a little inconsequential.
As the group reaches the beginning of the path, ahead of heavy storm clouds gathering over the eastern horizon, they find that several scores of people are already queueing up to enter the manor, single or in groups, with Lady Aldori's guards carefully checking their invitations one by one.
Roots is seen having difficulty not tripping himself over his own vines while having his mouth agape inside the city!
Those stone places are really high!
Entering the property proper, the small Root leshy is seen concentrating on his steps along the cobblestone path leading up to the manor.
Look at those majestic oak trees and well-manicured hedges!
The druid points toward the manor.
Look at it's surrounded by hedge-lined rose gardens and ancient trees!
Smiling up ahead at the heavy storm clouds gathering over the eastern horizon, the Storm druid grins and skips down the path!
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...it is seen as a duty of our kind to guide along the progress of science, arts, medicine and the like.
Nidintu listens in silence as Phoebe talks of her home in Thousand Voices, speaking after she finishes. "I think I understand the nature of the duty you speak of. The priest who raised my brother and me, Taavor Ardeth, devoted his life to gathering and cataloguing the wisdom of those who came before, in the hopes that it might guide those who come after. I learned much about the legends and folktales of the River Kingdoms under his tutelage - for instance, in the village of Tazenda, they say that giants once lived in the Tors of Levenines, carving their homes into the rock." He raises one eyebrow. "Personally, I find these tales unlikely, as I've never heard of any relics being recovered in that area, but even false myths can tell us about the values of those who made them."
Following Roots, he moves down the path and takes his place in the queue.