You make your way back across the templeroad to your nameless common-room inn. All your companions are resting peacefully. You see Zephyr Emir serenely meditating with eyes open, keeping quiet watch over all. He nods to you. He whispers into his hand, and a gentle wind carries it to your ears: "All is well, my friends. Sleep, and I shall keep my vigil."
Benedetto struggles to get back to sleep, worry for the state of the city if there's a shadow war between factions in the Temple keeping him tense and tossing until finally exhaustion claims him.
Drook is up early, attending the many chores of a budding squire. He tends to knightly armor and weapons. Gull, on the other hand, sleeps deeply and sleeps late. He is difficult to wake, like a much younger child would be.
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Benedetto doesn't sleep in as much as he'd like, given how tired he feels in the morning, but he gets up and sees what Drook is doing. After a moment he interrupts his squire for some morning devotions. Given he doesn't quite know what kind of prayers and such to make to Phoenix, he has to... improvise a bit for them, but repurposed Warrior rituals are probably fine, right?
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River meanwhile doesn't sleep again that night, watching over Gull and thinking long and deeply in the darkness. She watches Drook and Benedetto without comment and doesn't speak until they are done.
"Is Volcano bad now?" The simple question is obviously a layered one. What will we do next? Should we trust Dove? all sit behind it, but her smooth and open face watches Benedetto with every appearance of calm.
Benedetto looks at River with a degree of shock on his face. He opens his mouth for a hasty reply, pauses, thinks for a moment, then finally says, "I think... Volcano is the same as ever. But now some of the worshippers of Volcano have decided to do horrible things in Volcano's name."
Zephyr emir says, with a touch of light sarcasm, "Volcano, the same as ever indeed."'
Drook stands up at the remark, hands balled unconsciously into fists. To his credit, he looks toward Sir Benedetto to see his reaction.
Benedetto lays a hand on Drook's shoulder. "You don't prove you're right by getting angry," he says. "And unfortunately, I think this split has been coming for a long time. It's hard to think of a worse time for it to happen, though."
After a few calming breaths, you feel Drook's shoulders relax. "I'm sorry, Sir Benedetto. I'll keep trying." He looks over to Zephyr. "I'm sorry to you, too. Zephyr responds with a wave and a short whispered think nothing of it, Drook through the air.
The dubious scent of mystery-meat stew floats into the common room from the adjoining kitchen area. Gull opens his eyes, and asks, "Why does breakfast smell like a bad dinner?"
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Benedetto give's Drook's shoulder a light pat. "It's fine. It's hard to hear other people make light of things you find important. We have to practice every day how to set a good example instead of getting down in the mud, too."
He glances towards the kitchen. "It smells like that because we're leaving soon, I think," he says. "We had an invitation. Maybe we should go see about it."
Gamberino stretches and yawns theatrically. "It's too early for philosophy, and that stink is only making me hungry for real food. Let's find a food cart on our way, si?" He scratches himself in various places as he straps on his alchemical supplies.
Drook finishes with his morning chores, and makes sure his knight requires nothing else. He clears his throat, and asks, "And after the oread stuff, sire, do you think we could look into finding me a sparring partner at the training grounds?" His voice contains a note of eagerness that he tries to keep of his face as he addresses you formally.
"You can dance with me." River offers, looking at Drook with unusual focus. "If you want to learn."
Apart from producing a small handful of coins and buying Gull a real breakfast, the snow-white undine seems uninterested in the mundane. But Benedetto notices that her eyes are sharp and her lithe, easy motions keep her close to Gull at all times.
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Drook looks wide-eyed at you, but not in disbelief - you see a hint of fear. "I've seen you in battle, Lady River, and I know you're not one to take lightly. I'll try to land a hit with the practice sword, but I don't think I can take a hit from you."
With a deep breath, he readies himself, then attacks without hesitation.
The squire seems just as shocked as you when he does hit, a solid slap on your upper arm. The markings around his eyes flare orange for just a moment, and you feel the sting of fire in addition to the bruising wood of the practice sword.
He drops the sword in surprise, and says, "I'm sorry!"
Benedetto can't help but chuckle. "I hope you don't drop your sword and apologize when you hit an enemy in combat," he says, then looks to River. "If you need healing, let me know."
He turns back to Drook. "Sparring always has a chance of injury, no matter how careful you are. And there's always a chance for a lucky hit, no matter how lopsided the combat. That said... what was that flash just when you hit? Did you do something?"
"No, at least not on purpose. My face got real warm. It felt like anger, but I wasn't angry."
You continue your conversation walking the streets. After River dusts herself off, and a visit to a soup cart (Gamberino buys two bowlfuls for himself), you set your sights on the Quiet Elder.
"It's going to be weird to see the slums without steam. I heard it's all gone." Gamberino mutters this aloud, to no one in particular.
"Well, we'll have to see if we can figure it out then," Benedetto says to Drook. "Perhaps when we find you more sparring partners. It... probably has something to do with our connection to Phoenix..."
When he hears Gamberino mutter, the paladin glances over at him. "I'd rather the people there were doing well enough for them to not be slums any more, myself."
Gull walks over to River. He's seen her struck before in combats, and she has always been fine, so he is not upset. Saying nothing, he waits patiently for her to reassure him she is fine this time, too.
Gamberino takes you weaving through the narrow alleys of friendly-looking loan sharks, then through the garbage-ridden border of the poor district once more ("At least the smell doesn't cling, si? That's why we avoid the perfume stalls"), and finally onto a red clay road that must be the main thoroughfare of the Steam Slums. Although Gamberino has discovered they have been renamed the Stems by the new inhabitants.
"I can't keep track of all these changes! I'll need tour guide for my own home town." He throws his hands up in mock consternation.
"Be glad it's not changed the way Light has," Benedetto murmurs, frowning at memories only he can see.
Gamberino laughs at this, interpreting your words as a joke. "Good point. Yeah, well."
The streets under your feet become red brick, and the Quiet Elder looms larger than ever before you. There is an entire neighborhood underneath the massive canopy of the Elder, twenty streets or more in each direction.
You notice a healthy bustle in the morning hours as oreads prepare for the day: most of the trades involve baking, spices, or medicine. As you pass more greenhouses and other nurseries, you can see why - the Steams have always been able to grow exotic plants, thanks to the unique conditions of heat and humidity year-round. With the supernatural steam apparently gone, the oreads have somehow kept up the growth of these greenhouses.
**
Gull walks over to River. He's seen her struck before in combats, and she has always been fine, so he is not upset. Saying nothing, he waits patiently for her to reassure him she is fine this time, too.
River's flesh ripples around Drook's blow and returns to its normal shade almost instantly. She ruffles Gull's hair and offers a smile and a whispered reassurance as they travel on.
The Quiet Elder seems to impress both elen as they gaze at it with almost matching expressions of... interest... awe... confusion? Either way they seem suitable impressed.
Despite there being a lot to look at, not a situation River usually handles well, her attention is mostly on keeping Gull safe so every passer-by gets an assessing look. She's completely forgotten why they're here, but she's looking at people anyway so it might work out...
Benedetto looks around, calling to mind the appearance of the oread they'd saved last night.
The closer you get to the Elder, the more oreads you see tending to the giant tree in one way or another. The roots of the Elder pop out of the cobblestones in many places throughout the streets, and you see these caretaker oreads watering them and packing the ground with fresh soil. In other places, you see branches being carefully pruned to provide a balance between the elen community and the living Tree itself.
Closer still, you see the mightiest branches are thick enough to hold up baskets with dozens of elens inside - there is a village within the neighborhood, no doubt the holiest places for those who consider the Elders to be related to the gods of Forest.
A serious-faced oread approaches you (you realize how much you stand out, in a community of nearly all oreads). "You must surrender all blades, and all weapons that have been enchanted with fire." His dark countenance leaves no room for argument. "They will be returned to you."
Benedetto hesitates just a moment--he doesn't like being unarmed in unfamiliar territory--but starts handing over his swords and daggers. "Of course. A reasonable precaution," he says.
Drook follows Benedetto's example. He shows the same moment of reluctance (wearing the blade is still new to him, and he feels less secure without it), but hands over both sword and dagger.
Gull sees everyone handing the el pointy things, so he gives him a pin from his pocket. "I found it on the floor last night." The boy walks back to River to see what happens next.
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Amatshe made his way toward the Quiet Elder engulfed in the shade of its outstretched limbs. He is surprised by the officious oread and his request and lets out a terse greeting, ”Shared roots, brother.”
The oread begins to unbuckle his dagger and remarks, ”Weapons? What weapon could harm such a majestic being?” He continued gesturing towards the companions, ”What harm could I or these elans do with a weapon?”
The oread writes quick notes on twists of paper for each of the weapons so they can easily be retrieved later. Looking at Amatshe, he lightly scoffs. "A carefree attitude. You must not have been here when that Moon-god and an army of golems were only a few city blocks from here. This is a small price to pay to protect our Elder from outside threats."
He bids you all good day, reminding you where you can pick up your weapons at the end of your visit.
Benedetto is a tall, wiry ifrit, wearing finely-crafted armor of laquered leather that doesn't quite seem to fit him right. His skin is a deeper red that fades to coal-black at a few places, giving him an appearance not unlike cooling lava. He moves with a warrior's wary grace.
He sighs as the oread guard takes his weapons and leaves, then looks at the other newcomer--another oread, but one recently arrived, apparently?
"I wish I didn't agree with their caution, but after what we've seen in Hearth, I can understand it," he says. "And we've only been here a day. I'm Benedetto. Have you just recently arrived as well?"
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Amatshe stood still as stone as Benedetto introduced himself and he chided himself for his errant tongue, to late to be brown against the bark.
The large oread is dressed simply but his stillness only accentuates the hard and dangerous lines of his well-muscled body. His onyx colored skin glistens and his dark, ash, colored eyes appear to miss little.
He returns Benedetto’s greeting with a slight bow replying in a deep gravelly voice, ”Shared roots, I am called Amatshe.”” He nodded his head, ”Yes… yes, I have just arrived in the city. I am a monk and practitioner of The Way of the Branch.” He looked around, concern etched on his face, while he continued, ”I have traveled here to see the New Quiet Elder and have seen some distressing things on the road. But tell me what has happed hear, why does fear replace reason?”
Benedetto sighs."Tensions are high from all the refugees crammed into the city. People are taking advantage of the refugees, and they're mad about it. Natives are worried the refugees will strain the resources of the city to the breaking point. People are disappearing in the night. The Moon is still out there. Take your pick."
An ifrit boy, still a year from needing to shave, stands slightly behind Benedetto. You can tell from his bearing that he takes himself too seriously. He bows. "Amatshe, my name is Drook. I am a squire..." He trails off, then looks at Benedetto, then back to you. Abruptly, he changes the subject. "Hey, what do you think of the Phoenix symbol above the Temple? To me, that's the biggest things that's happened."
A very young sylph boy with a blank expression on his face gently tugs on the hand of a stunningly beautiful undine ele. He doesn't feel like introducing himself, and looks at the ground.
The gives Drook a discerning look, Perceptive lad. ”Good question Drook, and to be honest, one I’m currently at a loss to explain. What does any of this mean?” He continued, ”However, we may be able to turn this chance meeting to our mutual benefit. You see, I and my order are interested in finding some answers to these going ons. Would you all be interested in joining forces?”
Drook grins and looks expectantly toward Benedetto for a reply to Amatshe. The boy seems to think he's watching an adventure play, rather than standing with a runny nose in the dung-scented, chilly spring morning.
"We certainly aren't planning to sit around while innocent elens die," Benedetto states firmly, looking at Amatshe a bit more closely. "You mentioned an order? You have allies here, or in Forest?"
No Allie’s here or in the forest so to speak but at the monastery a few are interested in these going ons,” he replied.
You already know from your background that you are the only one here from your tribe investigating the Elder. To answer the second question, you think you could count Dowanhowee as an ally here in Hearth. She is a tender of the Elder, and usually a voice on the Council.
Behind the tall guard, the grandmotherly figure of Dowanhowee shuffles into view. "I do not count as an ally, then?" She says it sweetly and with a smile - you don't believe you've ever seen her truly take offense to anything.
The elderly oread has a slight stoop to her back, but she makes the effort to look at each of you in turn. "Will you accept my hospitality? I can tell you something of what occurs within the Temple." She gestures behind herself, inviting you to enter the Quiet Elder.
Amatshe turned toward the tender sheepishly, ”Apologies, Dowanhowee I did not want to impose upon you in this trying time.” He bows, ”You honor me with such an invitation.” He gladly accepts and enters.
You catch the eye of a brooding oread behind Dowanhowee, his bristled hair pulled back in a warrior's tail. He scowls briefly at you, hands close to his array of hard clubs and sharp daggers. From his protective air, you can only assume this is a bodyguard of Dowanhowee's.
Benedetto gives Dowanhowee what he thinks is a respectful bow. "Thank you for your invitation. We would be glad to hear what you wish to say," he says, following after Amatshe.
A very young sylph boy with a blank expression on his face gently tugs on the hand of a stunningly beautiful undine ele. He doesn't feel like introducing himself, and looks at the ground.
The undine, snow-white in skin and hair unlike the usual blue for her kind, starts as though pulled from a trance. She is indeed stunningly beautiful - perfectly formed in face and figure but her eyes are odd - vacant and piercing by turns. Then her attention snaps away to the boy until Dowanhowee arrives and speaks.
Along with Drook the ele clearly looks to Benedetto as the leader and when he agrees to go with the elder, she follows immediately, leading the boy with her. She makes eye contact with Amatshe and offers a brief nod - recognition of some sort.
Dowanhowee takes you underneath the great branches of the Elder. She gives a small signal, and a large basket is lowered down. Standing inside is the oread that River and 'Detto recognize from last night's battle. He is surprised and delighted to see you. "You came! And you found Mistress Dowanhowee! Now all will be well." Using a combination of root magic and orean strength, the el lifts you all in the basket, carrying you on ropes and roots to the first set of the Elder's branches.
"I'll be here when you are done. Let me know if you need anything. My name is Chasso."
'Branches' seems too small a word - you exit the moving basket and stand on a firm wooden floor, more like a platform than a branch. You are at the far end of this branch, so you start making your way back to the center. The lane is wide enough for five elens to walk comfortably side-by-side, and sways not in the least.
Dowanhowee's limping gait sets an easy pace for the party. Breathing in the crisp spring air, she looks back at all of you and asks, "What do you think of Hearth so far? Her current face, that is?"
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Dowanhowee takes you underneath the great branches of the Elder. She gives a small signal, and a large basket is lowered down. Standing inside is the oread that River and 'Detto recognize from last night's battle. He is surprised and delighted to see you. "You came! And you found Mistress Dowanhowee! Now all will be well." Using a combination of root magic and orean strength, the el lifts you all in the basket, carrying you on ropes and roots to the first set of the Elder's branches.
"I'll be here when you are done. Let me know if you need anything. My name is Chasso."
"Good to see you... and to get your name," Benedetto says with a grin. "I hope you've been well. We'll talk more when we get back, I'm sure."
He looks around the massive tree with interest. While he's somewhat nervous about the heights, it seems safe enough... and besides, isn't he the paladin of Phoenix, now? What fear does Phoenix have for heights?
Dowanhowee's limping gait sets an easy pace for the party. Breathing in the crisp spring air, she looks back at all of you and asks, "What do you think of Hearth so far? Her current face, that is?"
"It seems like a smile trying to hide a grimmace of pain," Benedetto replies, maybe taking the 'face' thing a little to far. "As if we didn't have enough trouble already, the tension is so thick it seems ready to explode."
Amatshe considered Dowanhowee's question for a moment before replying, ”Time will tell; will it be growth or decay? I cannot hazard a guess.”