Rivyre looks up after hearing Angus address the approaching figures & gestures to her about what she seeks.
Rivyre stands up & begins walking up to the figure & speaks in Sylvan, "Dia dhuit? Rivyre is ainm dom & is Flamkeeper mé ó Altbruke ar an mórthír." (*Hello, how are you? My name is Rivyre & I am a Flamekeeper from Altbruke on the mainland.*) (Trying to be a little nerdy here, but "Irish Gaelic" is the closest real language I could think that relates to Sylvan/Elvish. So if Valanthe knows Elvish she might understand "most" of what I say & maybe some words won't quite translate correctly. If she knows Sylvan, she'll understand everything I say). Proceeding to speak in common, "Yes I have returned home to see my family after a long century I have spent away. We used to live on Almorra..., Rivyre pauses briefly & tear forms in her eye, "I have seen the fate that befallen my home & I am seeking anyone who would know information about my family & the evil that has befallen Almorra. Whether they are alive or worse..., dead. Angus has been most gracious & helpful to accompany & assist me on quest for information. I know Elves, the Northfolk Clans, & the Sacred Flame like myself usually do not get along, but Angus speaks the truth..., & as do I. We mean no harm. Please..., any help would be most gracious."
“Tá an fhírinne suibiachtúla,” Valanthe speaks in Sylvan. (The truth is subjective)
“When in the company of our own, we elves speak elvish,” Valanthe continues but now in common, her voice edged with contempt, her eyes locked on those of the cleric. “When in the company of others it would be considered well-mannered to converse in the common tongue so as to not appeardistrustful.”
Valanthe relaxes her frame and addresses Angus again: “You have found two of the Elves of Eladria, Angus Lochlan of Clan Lochlan.” Valanthe says referring to Vaelorn and herself. “I am Neris Amakiir, Daughter of Rolen. This is my master, Vaelorn, a scholar of Eladria.” she continues, choosing to use her childhood name until she better understands the intent of these strangers.
Valanthe sighs and her shoulders droop a little. She was this close to going on an adventure - a mission of actual importance but now she has to do the dutiful thing and escort these two into the city so they can find “whatever” the flamekeeper was talking about.
She clears her throat and continues: “The Elves of Eladria do not turn away travellers in need of hospitality and, like…” gesturing to Rivyre “...recovery.”
Turning to Vaelorn she asks with disappointment: “Master, I cannot leave the travellers here in weather such as this and I do not want to delay you on your mission. I don’t know what happened to <Elf dude whose name begins with Si> but I believe it is of great importance that we discover what strange occurrences might be causing the elfgates to stir. What would you have me do?”
Vaelorn watches on quietly, though he will step closer to get a better look at the pair, "Almorra you say? I'm not the most familiar with that Isle, but the last I heard of it was that the dangerous beasts were roaming in a great frenzy." he will offer that information out easily as it seems important to the travelers. then back to Valanthe, "Our task is one you requested, if you feel we must postpone to guide them back we can, though I feel we should move with it as quickly as we can. I don't think it would be much trouble to guide them to the city and give them proper hospitality, they do seem quite in need and.." he pauses for a moment looking them over, "I think they will be kind enough not to cause to many problems intentionally."
Saschaonce again stirs her horse into motion, she rides forward, lowering her rapier into position, couching it almost like a lance, though as she approaches, she changes her mind instead lifting the blade, Delivering a blow with the basket hilt of the rapier. with intent to knock the druid out.
The blow to the head knocks the Druidclean out, and he tumbles to the ground, the delerium shard spilling from his hands into the undergrowth. Strange pink mist immediately coalesces around it.
Saschaleaps from her horse to snatch it up, scrambling down in a quick dismount. As she picks up the glowing stone, a tingling buzz seeps through her glove and runs uncomfortably up her arm, making her set her teeth on edge.
Back amongst the three foreigners that plowed into the mob, the archer stows his longbow and pulling a shortsword from his belt, attacks the berserker with it, already staggering from the onslaught of his two companions, cutting into him. The berserker, being laid into by the three foreigners, swings his greataxe to gain himself room, and he disengages and runs through the crowd of villagers towards the fallen Druid of Kromac, reaching him just as Sascha picks up the delerium shard. Clamoring, the whole mob follows him.
Looking at the back of the retreating Huntsman, Mozgrins and begins to raise his hand and gather the eldritch energy within. As he hears sound of battle and feels the sting from his wound, he reconsiders his actions. Cursing to himself he pushes down the urge to blast the Fey in the back, but still feeling the need to get a shot in he drops his disguise and yells at the Huntsman, "Run little rabbit and know you were beat my Moz the Magnificent. Till next time!" He tips his hat and turns and runs towards the trees. As he runs he invokes his Eldritch Invocation and his form once again shifts to that of a gnome in travelling leathers. As he reaches the shadows of the trees, he dips into the shadows.
The Huntsmancontinues his dash... and disappears through the Emerald Door.
The berserker that had run up to guard the Druidbefore the Druid left his side now charges after the fallen priest, raising his greataxe to bring it down on the one responsible--the hapless Sascha as she reaches to grab the delerium shard. His axe cuts painfully into her.
Sir Lorn rushes forwards, following the warriors and the villagers, his sword drawn---and, his eyes peeled for threats, spots Alorin'smotionless body underneath the bushes, bleeding steadily from a poisoned arrow wound. Perhaps assessing the difference in uniform from the Druid's followers, or perhaps taking pity on a man left to die with no succor, he stops, sheathes his sword, and reaches down, tearing the bolt free from Alorin's body and quickly laying a hand over the wound as it gushes blood. Radiant light glows under his palm as he murmurs a prayer of supplication to the Sacred Flame... and the flow of blood stops as the flesh knits together under his hand.
William, the fur-clad man with the morning star, runs past as Sir Lorn stops, raising the mace to crash it down on the berserker that just sliced up Sascha. The berserker shouts in pain and rage, but his yell is cut off as William, with his other hand holding his shield he slams his shield into him, and the berserker is knocked down onto the ground. "Attack a lady, will you?!" William sneers.
Sir Lorn reaches down to offer Alorin a hand to stand as soon as he is able...
Alorinblearily opens his eye as he is healed, and looks around in confusion. None of the original combatants are immediately visible, but a new conflict seems to have arisen. ”What… is going on?” he mumbles.
Seeing Alorinhealed and coming back to his senses, Elis overjoyed. She leaves the baby in the hollow, sees the group attacking the people who saved Alorin, runs up to the nearest berserker, and tries to bites him. Unfortunately, this happens at the same time that William knocks the berserker down. As such, her teeth close over nothing but air. She then teleports back to the hollow to guard the infant.
The Druidremains unconscious... the mob meanwhile, seeing their warriors knocked down and their Druid incapacitated, and for all they know, dead, give a great cry of terror, and they turn and flee the woods, heading back towards the bridge. "Vague has done this!" "We should never have left our doors!" "A curse and a plague be on that terrible stone that deceived our Druid!"
Rivyre listens intently & though she her own task to complete her curiosity is piqued @ the task Neris has been sent on.
"If you can point us in the direction of Eladria i'm sure we could get there on our own as you seem to have given an important task to undertake." Rivyre pauses...,
"But, pardon my curiosity. The ancient Elfgates are stirring? I only know the stories my mother told me when I was a child, & the study of that tumoltuous time in history against the ancient elves by the Sorcerer-Kings is required learning by those who join the Sacred Flame. It's seldom us elves rarely visit those ruins willingly due to the overwhelming feelings of sadness & dread due to the ruthlessness & ruin of war caused by Sorcerer-Queen Kaestelaria VIII."
Rivyre continues, "What occurences have been happening?" "Do you think there could be any correlation between that & what's happened to Almorra?" "Have you contacted the Amethyst Academy at the Starspire Observatory if they have any insight to the problems on Almorra or the Elfgate?"
The blow is disastrous. Sascha yells in pain but the jolt caused by the touching the awful stone, and the injury itself flood her body with adrenaline. Sascha rises from the ground, stabbing at the berserker.
The archer stays where he is as his companions rush forward, stowing his shortsword and taking out his longbow again. Towards the berserker who is rushing up to the fallen Druid, he fires two shots with practiced eye. The berserker is skewered like a fowl to roast on the fire and he falls down, dead, on top of the unconscious Druid.
Waving bye to the Huntsman, Moz turns and runs towards the battle. "Ughh more humans." Seeing one revive Alorin he grins "Well at lest they did something useful." Sticking to the shadows, he approachs the battle.
"You took a nasty fairy bolt between the shoulders," Sir Lorn says. "Lucky that didn't kill you outright." He's gazing at the pitched battle over the delerium shard, the Druid unconscious on the ground, the corpse of one of the Lochlann warriors on top of him. The only remaining berserker bleeding from several wounds and shoved down to the ground by William's shield and Sascha holding him at rapier point. "It seems like we've got things well in hand now, but there's still some fey critters about--I just saw one of their hounds run in and then blink out--so watch yourself."
”A blinking dog, you say? Don’t worry about her; that one’s a friend. Raised her myself, ever since she was a little pup. She just wants to help. She’s the only reason I survived. Well, not the only reason. Thank you; I’m not sure what you did, but clearly you saved my life.”A smile tugs at Alorin’s lips as he hears about El. He takes Sir Lorn’s outstretched hand, and uses it to pull himself back up. He then turns to Sascha, and says, “And thank you too, good lady, for helping us drive away that Huntsman, and for bringing these good men to this fight. Even if it came with a few additional wrinkles,” he says, smirking at the Druid and his warriors. ”Im not sure what brought you all here, but whatever it was saved my life, as well as the life I was trying to protect, and for that, I’m willing to offer my help, such as it is, in return as well.”
Sir Lorn nods. "I almost didn't see you there in the bushes, but it doesn't seem to me a fit way for a man to die, felled alone by fairy shot." He draws his own sword again, watching the berserker intent on guarding the druid. "We came after these fellows to keep that stone from them. Looks like Lady Sascha couldn't talk them down about it, and it came to blows. It's dangerous stuff, and I doubt they know it, but that isn't something y'all are needing here on the lovely Isle of Skye."
"What life were you trying to protect?" he asks Alorin.
Not wanting to draw too close to the prone berserker, just in case, Alorin draws his bow and trains it on him as well, preparing to fire if the man manages to rise to his feet and threaten these rescuers.
The berserker twists away from William and leaps to his feet, swinging his greataxe up. But he disengages, backing quickly away to stand guard over the fallen Druid, fury burning in his eyes at Sascha and William as he holds the axe up in warning.
William follows after the berserker. "Drop your weapon," he shouts. "Do it now."
"Make me," the berserker snarls. And William steps forward, slamming his morningstar down on the haft of the greataxe, knocking it from the berserker's grasp. The weapon thumps to the ground, barely missing the harangued and unconscious Druid as it does.
As the berserker lifts his axe and is subsequently disarmed, Alorin lets his arrow fly and turns to Sir Lorn. ”What rock could possibly be so dangerous?” he wonders, not having seen the stone itself. ”Though I suppose anything that can make people fight over it so must be dangerous in one west or another. To answer your question, the fairy huntsman was here for a child who had been left out in the cold as their prize. Me and El, we don’t think babies should ever be a prize, or hunted for that matter. Can’t imagine that you’d disagree.”
El rushes out of the hollow, grabs the great axe lying on the ground, and pulls it away from near the berserker as Alorin's arrow hits the man, cutting his flesh underneath his furs. The berserker lunges at El with a fist, getting a solid punch before she slips out of his grasp. Dragging the axe back near Alorin, she drops it and ducks back into the hollow to keep the baby warm.
Valanthe looks back at the flamekeeper “Almorra? No one has sailed to Almorra and returned alive for 15 years. The Elfgate stirred yesterday. So I doubt it… but my master, Vaelorn would know more than I.” Valanthe gestures to Vaelorn.
The Elfgate likely cried out in pain at the presence of an elven flamekeeper on the isle, Valanthe smirks to herself.
“The council of Eladria isn’t without initiative: A trusted sage has been dispatched to the Observatory to consult with the Academy. We were heading to the port in Darryl to investigate any strange goings on there. Almorra is not our mission.” Valanthe straightens herself again making this statement.
Turning to the human, “You said you fought ghouls - brought here by The Vague?” she says absently as she walks towards the long-horned animal. Ignoring any possible response to her question she continues, her voice younger and lighter as if quite distracted “Is this your cow? Oh, she's hurt!” Valanthe looks at the wound on Beef’s belly with great concern. "I can heal her if you let me?"
"Aye, ghouls and The Vague." Angus replies, a hint of surprise on his face. The question appears to have startled him. Seems he expected the conversation to be left amongst the elves.
"This noble beast is Beef. Those ghouls did a number on us, my hound wouldn't have made it, if not for the Flamekeeper here." Angus sits down to soothe the cow. "If you are able to help her, then by all means do so."
Sascha is well aware the danger hasn't passed yet. Squaring up to the Berserker now that she's back on her feet properly, she thrusts the rapier toward the berserker with a snarl.
"The stone is cursed, we're trying to save you."
Sascha insists as she prepares to weather the berserker's reprisal. She's resigned to the fact this fight won't end until the Berserker is subdued, but still she tries in vain.
Even as Sascha speaks, the archer from thirty feet away fires two arrows from his longbow, striking the berserker. Caught between the arrows and Sascha's rapier, the man is staggering, bleeding from multiple wounds. Only now the rage starting to go out of his eyes as too much blood leaves his body.
Peering through the trees at the swirling battle around the Berserker. "Looks like they have everything well in hand. At least they have their uses." Scratching his chin. He looks down at his disguised form. "Better not surpise them. Likely get an arrow in chest. Alorin knows this disguise, hopefully he will keep them from shooting first." Slipping through the trees abit he then casual leans against a tree and pulls an apple from his pack and takes a bite of it as he watches and waiting for the humans to notice him.
”Good to see you safe, Moz! I’m glad the Huntsman didn’t get you,” Alorin says on seeing the nonchalant gnomish figure.
He then turns to the last berserker, and keeping his bow trained on him and ready to shoot if necessary, says, ”I don’t think my friends here mean you any harm. Why don’t you stop fighting, and hear them out?”
Moz takes a bite of the apple. "Him! Get me? Please!" He says scoffing at the idea. "I had him just where I wanted him. I was toying with him like the cat with the mouse."Tossing the apple core to the side. "The only reason I let him live was that the idea of what his Master will do to him for his failure, is far more amusing to me."
Bleeding from several wounds, his weapon out of reach, the Lochlann warrior stops fighting. He moves hunched over, like a wary animal, stooping down to his fallen comrade and the unconscious Druid.
"I certainly don't disagree," Sir Lorn says, to Alorin. "Flame bless you for your good deed! It is an unfortunate heathen practice in these parts, especially on inauspicious moons and unseasons, to sacrifice children to the fairies. I am glad you were here. Fairies move quickly when a human child is at stake. Where is the child now?"
The Lochlann warrior, breathing raggedly, moves his fallen comrade off of the unconscious Druid and quickly arranges his body, laying flat with arms crossed over the chest. He dips his hands in the warrior's blood and with viscious red streaks begins to draw markings on his body, on his face and arms. He takes blood from his own wounds and does the same, over the first set of markings.
The archer, who had been standing back, warily moves forward, his bow still held at the ready. "Keep an eye on him," he calls out to Sascha and William.
"You bet I am," William shouts back, not taking his eyes from the man. "That's disgusting," he says with a frown.
"Kromac's thirst will be slated,"the warrior says, in a gravelly voice. "You've taken the offering we meant to give, and he is not pleased."
Stepping forward he walks toward the group, he looks to the berserker " Ya, ya big scary Kormac will get us, only if he can tear himself away from licking his own butt." Stopping in front of the knights he gives them a grandiose bow "Hail and well meet, sir knights. I am Sir Mozzarella Gnomeingtonson, the Emerald* Knight of Skye, Warden of Buttercup Lane, Guardian of the Veiled Door, at your service. I thank you for timely intervention in this little fray, even if I had it well in hand." Gesturing to Alorin and giving him a mischievous grin "Also thank you for saving my squire Alorin. He is brave, if somewhat reckless, but a good lad none the less. It would have be a nuisance to replace him." Turning back to Sir Lorn. "My squire and I were here too rescue the young babe, and take it to safety." Looking to Alorin "Come now, squire. Lets leave these brave knights to finish up with these savages."
Rivyre ponders Neris's somewhat evasive answers to her questions..., most likely attributing to her robes of the Sacred Flame despite speaking in the native tongue that many elevs here speak to not pose suspicion. She can't say that wasn't unexpected, but certainly was a surprise she faced "more suspiscion" from her own people than from when she first met Angus. She then proceeds to watch as Neris walks over the heal the remaining scar on Beef's underside from the ghoul attack.
Rivyre responds, "Thank you for your assistance w/ that. I had been meaning to finish the job after my magic has been rejuvinated. I had exhausted all of it after our fight w/ the ghouls & had to use more traditional methods to aid Angus's wounds. Which i'm happy to say I think my efforts at least prevented infection from settling in on both of them." Briefly looking over Angus's bandages, "Your wounds have healed nicely, but please let me know if you want or need another application of salves if you feel unwell."
Turning to Neris, "Perhaps we could move on from your social awkwardness towards me which I suspect is because I wear the robes of the Sacred Flame. Your distrust is subtle, but not unoticeable nor unexpected. If you would allow us to join you, I hope we can move past some of your distrust & assist you on your mission. Last I saw there was nothing out of the ordinary when I arrived in Darryl, though the settlement has grown since I last saw it over 100 years ago." Rivyre continues, "I know the Angus has business to attend to in Darryl & seeing as it his the hometown of Clan Lochlan, having him w/ us could help prevent any tension amongst the local folk. I can postpone a search for my family as I would hate to see any more evils done my childhood home here in Skye. What strange goings have been going on in Darryl since my arrival?"
Rivyre concludes w/ a proverb in Sylvan: "Tá cara maith cosúil le seamair ceithre dhuilleog agus is scáthán maith é súil carad." (A good friend is like a four-leaf clover & a friend's eye is a good mirror.)
Turning towards the cocky gnome, Alorin responds, ”Yea, right, Moz! I’m tired of telling you that just because you want me to be your squire isn't gonna make it so. That said, it's a relief that fellow took off. And no matter our next steps, I'm hesitant to follow him onto his home turf with his quarry, even if it is the fastest way to travel.”
He moves towards the tree hollow where El is guarding the baby, and picks it up. "There, there, little one! You're going to be alright now. Just need to figure out what to do with you..."
Holding the baby, and with El by his side, he turns towards Sascha and Sir Lorn, and says, "Thanks again, to all of you! We were in a real bind until you folks came along. Now, what's going on with the druid? Where are you guys headed next?"
The infant fusses a bit as she is picked up from El's warm furry embrace, looking up with bleary newborn eyes as Alorin cradles her. A tinge of blue still colors her mouth and nose, and she manages only a weak cry. Her encounter with the shadowy mist seems to have her shaken and on the edge of life.
"By the Flame!" says Sir Lorn. "You have my gratitude for rescuing that poor child. Shame on these heathens for these practices! Someone needs to light a fire. That child will freeze! There are firepits in Kromac's clearing, but I would rather take him indoors as quickly as possible."
William glares at the Druid's last standing warrior, who, finishing his grisly ritual, now stands up straight. "Finish what you started," the warrior spits out.
"Sure," William says, and he returns his mace to his belt, pulls out a length of rope, and starts to secure the man.
The warrior's eyes glow angrily, but he does not struggle, and lets himself be tied up. "Kromac will have his sacrifice," he says, "even if you are too much of a coward to offer it."
Sir Lorn says, "We'll secure them both and bring them back to the village, turn them over to their own people. Sascha has the delerium--we're going to destroy that here, in a moment, and then it'll be off our hands... after that, well, Captain Birdstone said he'd wait an hour or two for us, so William, Eberhard, and I will board his ship that's heading back to Elyria. We were ready to cast off, but this was more important. Druids worshipping delerium is the last thing this island needs."
The paladin gives an odd look to the gnome. "Greetings, Sir Moz. I take it you came here for the child. No fey hands will touch this child under my watch, I'm afraid. You can go back to whence you came."
" Self-righteous Sacred Flame jackasses, ohh I am scared of the dark so I need to worship a night light to keep the monsters away." Moz thinks to himself. Forcing a smile back his face. "Fear not, Sir Knight. I am content to have prevented the sacrifice of this poor child." Holding his hands up to Sir Lorn, in a sign of appeasement. "But you are correct we should get this child inside and warmed up." turning his back to the Knights and looking at Alorin. "Come Alorin let's take the baby inside the hut to warm up. Maybe we can find some milk for the child. We will need to supplies for the trip back to Darryl." With his back to the knights he gives Alorin a look that says; We need to talk, his eyes darting to the Druid's hut.
Turning back to the knights "While you secure your prisoners, we will gather some supplies for the child" It is then he notices the octrine crystal in Sascha's hands. his eyes grow wide. "Ohhh what is that? It is so shiny." His fingers begin to twitch.
Valanthe finishes healing the magnificent bovine and calmly turns to look the cleric in the eye:
"My social awkwardness?" Valanthe responds cooly in common with a look of incredulity on her face, all attempts at formality gone completely from her frame and tone.
Now, Valanthe has had her fair share of elders talking down to her: telling her how she should behave, why this is important but that isn't, how to stand, how to sit, how to talk in polite company and why she always has to put her feelings or opinions aside. She did her best to listen to them because none of them followed a faith that threatened to destroy her home. Her blood boiling at the ignorance and arrogance of this fake-elf flamekeeper daring to speak down to her as if it was Valanthe who was out of place.
"My apologies, Flamekeeper" the young elf speaks with a smile on her lips but anger in her bright blue eyes "Subtle was not my intention: You are an elf dressed as a human, speaking sylvan in Eladria. A bugbear in a tutu playing the fiddle would look less awkward than you. But yes, I will escort you to Darryl" Valanthe nods respectfully to Angus.
Turning her back to the cleric, Valanthe shouts "Siannodel! Where did you go? Siannodel!"
Speaking to Vaelorn, Valanthe says "Master,I will accompany these two to Darryl, whether Siannodel,..." and she waves her hand above her head in annoyance "...wherever he is, will take us or not." Get this apostate off of Skye as soon as possible, Valanthe reasons in her mind. And Darryl means boats and boats mean her gone!"Should you still choose to join us I would welcome your company. Siannodel, seriously, come on!"
Alorin responds, ”Aye, right you both are! We need some shelter and warmth at the earliest, and once the child recovers somewhat, we need to decide her destination. I'm not so sure returning her to her parents is an option at all, for example. Speaking of shelter, though, I do remember seeing a hut in the clearing nearby, though I have no idea who it might belong to.”
Turning towards Sascha and Sir Lorn, he asks, "And what is this stone you seek to destroy? How hard can it possibly be to destroy something like that? And why? Though I must admit the stone looks rather pretty indeed, and in my experience, pretty things are almost always deadly as well."
(Can Alorin now see the stone clearly or up close, now that the fight has ended? If so, I would like to see if he can sense anything from it.)
A flutter of wings explodes from the upper boughs of the waving trees that shield the winding path with their magically retained winter foliage, and a raven soars down, dropping heavily to land on Valanthe's shoulder. She has seen Siannodel take this wildshape before, and she knows he is particularly xenophobic about the humans of Skye.
"I will take you," the raven croaks. "But mind your tongue. Follow me." Spreading its wings, the bird leaps into the air, and soars down the marshy slope towards the edge of the lake. A large old tree, its gnarled roots sunk deep in the quagmire at the edge of the vast lake, seems to stoop even as it towers over the spare and slender youngsters that dare try to match its waterlogged fortitude, creeping at the lake's edge uncertainly. The raven perches on a branch of the old tree and caws, ruffling its feathers and shaking its head as freezing rain continues to pelt uncomfortably down. "Don't take all day, now." Its faint croak carries back up the slope.
Vaelorn will look to Valanthe then at the other two, with the raven ushing them forward and nod as though he'd made up his mind about something. "Well, young Neris, this can prove to be quite a learning experience for you." He then turns to get Rivyre's attention "Do take steps to keep her well Flamekeeper, I'll see if I can find any answers about your home in the archives." with that the Scholar leaves the group
Rivyre responds to Vaelorn, "Thank you for taking your time to look into my request. No harm will come to Neris, you have my solemn vow." In Sidhe (Elvish) she finishes, "Siubhal cothromach mo charaid 'S gum faiceadh Lugh a' Ghrian thu 's gad chumail sàbhailte." (Fair journeys my friend & may Lugh the Sun watch over you & keep you safe.)
Rivyre looks up after hearing Angus address the approaching figures & gestures to her about what she seeks.
Rivyre stands up & begins walking up to the figure & speaks in Sylvan, "Dia dhuit? Rivyre is ainm dom & is Flamkeeper mé ó Altbruke ar an mórthír."
(*Hello, how are you? My name is Rivyre & I am a Flamekeeper from Altbruke on the mainland.*)
(Trying to be a little nerdy here, but "Irish Gaelic" is the closest real language I could think that relates to Sylvan/Elvish. So if Valanthe knows Elvish she might understand "most" of what I say & maybe some words won't quite translate correctly. If she knows Sylvan, she'll understand everything I say).
Proceeding to speak in common, "Yes I have returned home to see my family after a long century I have spent away. We used to live on Almorra..., Rivyre pauses briefly & tear forms in her eye, "I have seen the fate that befallen my home & I am seeking anyone who would know information about my family & the evil that has befallen Almorra. Whether they are alive or worse..., dead. Angus has been most gracious & helpful to accompany & assist me on quest for information. I know Elves, the Northfolk Clans, & the Sacred Flame like myself usually do not get along, but Angus speaks the truth..., & as do I. We mean no harm. Please..., any help would be most gracious."
“Tá an fhírinne suibiachtúla,” Valanthe speaks in Sylvan. (The truth is subjective)
“When in the company of our own, we elves speak elvish,” Valanthe continues but now in common, her voice edged with contempt, her eyes locked on those of the cleric. “When in the company of others it would be considered well-mannered to converse in the common tongue so as to not appear distrustful.”
Valanthe relaxes her frame and addresses Angus again: “You have found two of the Elves of Eladria, Angus Lochlan of Clan Lochlan.” Valanthe says referring to Vaelorn and herself. “I am Neris Amakiir, Daughter of Rolen. This is my master, Vaelorn, a scholar of Eladria.” she continues, choosing to use her childhood name until she better understands the intent of these strangers.
Valanthe sighs and her shoulders droop a little. She was this close to going on an adventure - a mission of actual importance but now she has to do the dutiful thing and escort these two into the city so they can find “whatever” the flamekeeper was talking about.
She clears her throat and continues: “The Elves of Eladria do not turn away travellers in need of hospitality and, like…” gesturing to Rivyre “...recovery.”
Turning to Vaelorn she asks with disappointment: “Master, I cannot leave the travellers here in weather such as this and I do not want to delay you on your mission. I don’t know what happened to <Elf dude whose name begins with Si> but I believe it is of great importance that we discover what strange occurrences might be causing the elfgates to stir. What would you have me do?”
Vaelorn watches on quietly, though he will step closer to get a better look at the pair, "Almorra you say? I'm not the most familiar with that Isle, but the last I heard of it was that the dangerous beasts were roaming in a great frenzy." he will offer that information out easily as it seems important to the travelers. then back to Valanthe, "Our task is one you requested, if you feel we must postpone to guide them back we can, though I feel we should move with it as quickly as we can. I don't think it would be much trouble to guide them to the city and give them proper hospitality, they do seem quite in need and.." he pauses for a moment looking them over, "I think they will be kind enough not to cause to many problems intentionally."
Alorin, Moz, and Sascha
The Hunt - Round 12
Sascha once again stirs her horse into motion, she rides forward, lowering her rapier into position, couching it almost like a lance, though as she approaches, she changes her mind instead lifting the blade, Delivering a blow with the basket hilt of the rapier. with intent to knock the druid out.
The blow to the head knocks the Druid clean out, and he tumbles to the ground, the delerium shard spilling from his hands into the undergrowth. Strange pink mist immediately coalesces around it.
Sascha leaps from her horse to snatch it up, scrambling down in a quick dismount. As she picks up the glowing stone, a tingling buzz seeps through her glove and runs uncomfortably up her arm, making her set her teeth on edge.
Back amongst the three foreigners that plowed into the mob, the archer stows his longbow and pulling a shortsword from his belt, attacks the berserker with it, already staggering from the onslaught of his two companions, cutting into him. The berserker, being laid into by the three foreigners, swings his greataxe to gain himself room, and he disengages and runs through the crowd of villagers towards the fallen Druid of Kromac, reaching him just as Sascha picks up the delerium shard. Clamoring, the whole mob follows him.
Looking at the back of the retreating Huntsman, Moz grins and begins to raise his hand and gather the eldritch energy within. As he hears sound of battle and feels the sting from his wound, he reconsiders his actions. Cursing to himself he pushes down the urge to blast the Fey in the back, but still feeling the need to get a shot in he drops his disguise and yells at the Huntsman, "Run little rabbit and know you were beat my Moz the Magnificent. Till next time!" He tips his hat and turns and runs towards the trees. As he runs he invokes his Eldritch Invocation and his form once again shifts to that of a gnome in travelling leathers. As he reaches the shadows of the trees, he dips into the shadows.
The Huntsman continues his dash... and disappears through the Emerald Door.
The berserker that had run up to guard the Druid before the Druid left his side now charges after the fallen priest, raising his greataxe to bring it down on the one responsible--the hapless Sascha as she reaches to grab the delerium shard. His axe cuts painfully into her.
Sir Lorn rushes forwards, following the warriors and the villagers, his sword drawn---and, his eyes peeled for threats, spots Alorin's motionless body underneath the bushes, bleeding steadily from a poisoned arrow wound. Perhaps assessing the difference in uniform from the Druid's followers, or perhaps taking pity on a man left to die with no succor, he stops, sheathes his sword, and reaches down, tearing the bolt free from Alorin's body and quickly laying a hand over the wound as it gushes blood. Radiant light glows under his palm as he murmurs a prayer of supplication to the Sacred Flame... and the flow of blood stops as the flesh knits together under his hand.
William, the fur-clad man with the morning star, runs past as Sir Lorn stops, raising the mace to crash it down on the berserker that just sliced up Sascha. The berserker shouts in pain and rage, but his yell is cut off as William, with his other hand holding his shield he slams his shield into him, and the berserker is knocked down onto the ground. "Attack a lady, will you?!" William sneers.
Sir Lorn reaches down to offer Alorin a hand to stand as soon as he is able...
Alorin blearily opens his eye as he is healed, and looks around in confusion. None of the original combatants are immediately visible, but a new conflict seems to have arisen. ”What… is going on?” he mumbles.
Seeing Alorin healed and coming back to his senses, El is overjoyed. She leaves the baby in the hollow, sees the group attacking the people who saved Alorin, runs up to the nearest berserker, and tries to bites him. Unfortunately, this happens at the same time that William knocks the berserker down. As such, her teeth close over nothing but air. She then teleports back to the hollow to guard the infant.
The Druid remains unconscious... the mob meanwhile, seeing their warriors knocked down and their Druid incapacitated, and for all they know, dead, give a great cry of terror, and they turn and flee the woods, heading back towards the bridge. "Vague has done this!" "We should never have left our doors!" "A curse and a plague be on that terrible stone that deceived our Druid!"
Rivyre listens intently & though she her own task to complete her curiosity is piqued @ the task Neris has been sent on.
"If you can point us in the direction of Eladria i'm sure we could get there on our own as you seem to have given an important task to undertake." Rivyre pauses...,
"But, pardon my curiosity. The ancient Elfgates are stirring? I only know the stories my mother told me when I was a child, & the study of that tumoltuous time in history against the ancient elves by the Sorcerer-Kings is required learning by those who join the Sacred Flame. It's seldom us elves rarely visit those ruins willingly due to the overwhelming feelings of sadness & dread due to the ruthlessness & ruin of war caused by Sorcerer-Queen Kaestelaria VIII."
Rivyre continues, "What occurences have been happening?"
"Do you think there could be any correlation between that & what's happened to Almorra?"
"Have you contacted the Amethyst Academy at the Starspire Observatory if they have any insight to the problems on Almorra or the Elfgate?"
Alorin, Moz, and Sascha
The Hunt - Round 13
The blow is disastrous. Sascha yells in pain but the jolt caused by the touching the awful stone, and the injury itself flood her body with adrenaline. Sascha rises from the ground, stabbing at the berserker.
The archer stays where he is as his companions rush forward, stowing his shortsword and taking out his longbow again. Towards the berserker who is rushing up to the fallen Druid, he fires two shots with practiced eye. The berserker is skewered like a fowl to roast on the fire and he falls down, dead, on top of the unconscious Druid.
Waving bye to the Huntsman, Moz turns and runs towards the battle. "Ughh more humans." Seeing one revive Alorin he grins "Well at lest they did something useful." Sticking to the shadows, he approachs the battle.
"You took a nasty fairy bolt between the shoulders," Sir Lorn says. "Lucky that didn't kill you outright." He's gazing at the pitched battle over the delerium shard, the Druid unconscious on the ground, the corpse of one of the Lochlann warriors on top of him. The only remaining berserker bleeding from several wounds and shoved down to the ground by William's shield and Sascha holding him at rapier point. "It seems like we've got things well in hand now, but there's still some fey critters about--I just saw one of their hounds run in and then blink out--so watch yourself."
”A blinking dog, you say? Don’t worry about her; that one’s a friend. Raised her myself, ever since she was a little pup. She just wants to help. She’s the only reason I survived. Well, not the only reason. Thank you; I’m not sure what you did, but clearly you saved my life.” A smile tugs at Alorin’s lips as he hears about El. He takes Sir Lorn’s outstretched hand, and uses it to pull himself back up. He then turns to Sascha, and says, “And thank you too, good lady, for helping us drive away that Huntsman, and for bringing these good men to this fight. Even if it came with a few additional wrinkles,” he says, smirking at the Druid and his warriors. ”Im not sure what brought you all here, but whatever it was saved my life, as well as the life I was trying to protect, and for that, I’m willing to offer my help, such as it is, in return as well.”
Sir Lorn nods. "I almost didn't see you there in the bushes, but it doesn't seem to me a fit way for a man to die, felled alone by fairy shot." He draws his own sword again, watching the berserker intent on guarding the druid. "We came after these fellows to keep that stone from them. Looks like Lady Sascha couldn't talk them down about it, and it came to blows. It's dangerous stuff, and I doubt they know it, but that isn't something y'all are needing here on the lovely Isle of Skye."
"What life were you trying to protect?" he asks Alorin.
Not wanting to draw too close to the prone berserker, just in case, Alorin draws his bow and trains it on him as well, preparing to fire if the man manages to rise to his feet and threaten these rescuers.
The berserker twists away from William and leaps to his feet, swinging his greataxe up. But he disengages, backing quickly away to stand guard over the fallen Druid, fury burning in his eyes at Sascha and William as he holds the axe up in warning.
William follows after the berserker. "Drop your weapon," he shouts. "Do it now."
"Make me," the berserker snarls. And William steps forward, slamming his morningstar down on the haft of the greataxe, knocking it from the berserker's grasp. The weapon thumps to the ground, barely missing the harangued and unconscious Druid as it does.
As the berserker lifts his axe and is subsequently disarmed, Alorin lets his arrow fly and turns to Sir Lorn. ”What rock could possibly be so dangerous?” he wonders, not having seen the stone itself. ”Though I suppose anything that can make people fight over it so must be dangerous in one west or another. To answer your question, the fairy huntsman was here for a child who had been left out in the cold as their prize. Me and El, we don’t think babies should ever be a prize, or hunted for that matter. Can’t imagine that you’d disagree.”
El rushes out of the hollow, grabs the great axe lying on the ground, and pulls it away from near the berserker as Alorin's arrow hits the man, cutting his flesh underneath his furs. The berserker lunges at El with a fist, getting a solid punch before she slips out of his grasp. Dragging the axe back near Alorin, she drops it and ducks back into the hollow to keep the baby warm.
Valanthe looks back at the flamekeeper “Almorra? No one has sailed to Almorra and returned alive for 15 years. The Elfgate stirred yesterday. So I doubt it… but my master, Vaelorn would know more than I.” Valanthe gestures to Vaelorn.
The Elfgate likely cried out in pain at the presence of an elven flamekeeper on the isle, Valanthe smirks to herself.
“The council of Eladria isn’t without initiative: A trusted sage has been dispatched to the Observatory to consult with the Academy. We were heading to the port in Darryl to investigate any strange goings on there. Almorra is not our mission.” Valanthe straightens herself again making this statement.
Turning to the human, “You said you fought ghouls - brought here by The Vague?” she says absently as she walks towards the long-horned animal. Ignoring any possible response to her question she continues, her voice younger and lighter as if quite distracted “Is this your cow? Oh, she's hurt!” Valanthe looks at the wound on Beef’s belly with great concern. "I can heal her if you let me?"
"Aye, ghouls and The Vague." Angus replies, a hint of surprise on his face. The question appears to have startled him. Seems he expected the conversation to be left amongst the elves.
"This noble beast is Beef. Those ghouls did a number on us, my hound wouldn't have made it, if not for the Flamekeeper here." Angus sits down to soothe the cow. "If you are able to help her, then by all means do so."
Alorin, Moz, and Sascha
Round 14 - The Hunt
Sascha is well aware the danger hasn't passed yet. Squaring up to the Berserker now that she's back on her feet properly, she thrusts the rapier toward the berserker with a snarl.
"The stone is cursed, we're trying to save you."
Sascha insists as she prepares to weather the berserker's reprisal. She's resigned to the fact this fight won't end until the Berserker is subdued, but still she tries in vain.
Even as Sascha speaks, the archer from thirty feet away fires two arrows from his longbow, striking the berserker. Caught between the arrows and Sascha's rapier, the man is staggering, bleeding from multiple wounds. Only now the rage starting to go out of his eyes as too much blood leaves his body.
Peering through the trees at the swirling battle around the Berserker. "Looks like they have everything well in hand. At least they have their uses." Scratching his chin. He looks down at his disguised form. "Better not surpise them. Likely get an arrow in chest. Alorin knows this disguise, hopefully he will keep them from shooting first."
Slipping through the trees abit he then casual leans against a tree and pulls an apple from his pack and takes a bite of it as he watches and waiting for the humans to notice him.
”Good to see you safe, Moz! I’m glad the Huntsman didn’t get you,” Alorin says on seeing the nonchalant gnomish figure.
He then turns to the last berserker, and keeping his bow trained on him and ready to shoot if necessary, says, ”I don’t think my friends here mean you any harm. Why don’t you stop fighting, and hear them out?”
Moz takes a bite of the apple. "Him! Get me? Please!" He says scoffing at the idea. "I had him just where I wanted him. I was toying with him like the cat with the mouse." Tossing the apple core to the side. "The only reason I let him live was that the idea of what his Master will do to him for his failure, is far more amusing to me."
Bleeding from several wounds, his weapon out of reach, the Lochlann warrior stops fighting. He moves hunched over, like a wary animal, stooping down to his fallen comrade and the unconscious Druid.
END OF COMBAT
Alorin, Moz, and Sascha
"I certainly don't disagree," Sir Lorn says, to Alorin. "Flame bless you for your good deed! It is an unfortunate heathen practice in these parts, especially on inauspicious moons and unseasons, to sacrifice children to the fairies. I am glad you were here. Fairies move quickly when a human child is at stake. Where is the child now?"
The Lochlann warrior, breathing raggedly, moves his fallen comrade off of the unconscious Druid and quickly arranges his body, laying flat with arms crossed over the chest. He dips his hands in the warrior's blood and with viscious red streaks begins to draw markings on his body, on his face and arms. He takes blood from his own wounds and does the same, over the first set of markings.
The archer, who had been standing back, warily moves forward, his bow still held at the ready. "Keep an eye on him," he calls out to Sascha and William.
"You bet I am," William shouts back, not taking his eyes from the man. "That's disgusting," he says with a frown.
"Kromac's thirst will be slated," the warrior says, in a gravelly voice. "You've taken the offering we meant to give, and he is not pleased."
Moz the Magnificent
Stepping forward he walks toward the group, he looks to the berserker " Ya, ya big scary Kormac will get us, only if he can tear himself away from licking his own butt." Stopping in front of the knights he gives them a grandiose bow "Hail and well meet, sir knights. I am Sir Mozzarella Gnomeingtonson, the Emerald* Knight of Skye, Warden of Buttercup Lane, Guardian of the Veiled Door, at your service. I thank you for timely intervention in this little fray, even if I had it well in hand." Gesturing to Alorin and giving him a mischievous grin "Also thank you for saving my squire Alorin. He is brave, if somewhat reckless, but a good lad none the less. It would have be a nuisance to replace him." Turning back to Sir Lorn. "My squire and I were here too rescue the young babe, and take it to safety." Looking to Alorin "Come now, squire. Lets leave these brave knights to finish up with these savages."
*There isn't a bit of green in his outfit
Rivyre ponders Neris's somewhat evasive answers to her questions..., most likely attributing to her robes of the Sacred Flame despite speaking in the native tongue that many elevs here speak to not pose suspicion. She can't say that wasn't unexpected, but certainly was a surprise she faced "more suspiscion" from her own people than from when she first met Angus. She then proceeds to watch as Neris walks over the heal the remaining scar on Beef's underside from the ghoul attack.
Rivyre responds, "Thank you for your assistance w/ that. I had been meaning to finish the job after my magic has been rejuvinated. I had exhausted all of it after our fight w/ the ghouls & had to use more traditional methods to aid Angus's wounds. Which i'm happy to say I think my efforts at least prevented infection from settling in on both of them."
Briefly looking over Angus's bandages, "Your wounds have healed nicely, but please let me know if you want or need another application of salves if you feel unwell."
Turning to Neris, "Perhaps we could move on from your social awkwardness towards me which I suspect is because I wear the robes of the Sacred Flame. Your distrust is subtle, but not unoticeable nor unexpected. If you would allow us to join you, I hope we can move past some of your distrust & assist you on your mission. Last I saw there was nothing out of the ordinary when I arrived in Darryl, though the settlement has grown since I last saw it over 100 years ago."
Rivyre continues, "I know the Angus has business to attend to in Darryl & seeing as it his the hometown of Clan Lochlan, having him w/ us could help prevent any tension amongst the local folk. I can postpone a search for my family as I would hate to see any more evils done my childhood home here in Skye. What strange goings have been going on in Darryl since my arrival?"
Rivyre concludes w/ a proverb in Sylvan: "Tá cara maith cosúil le seamair ceithre dhuilleog agus is scáthán maith é súil carad." (A good friend is like a four-leaf clover & a friend's eye is a good mirror.)
Alorin
Turning towards the cocky gnome, Alorin responds, ”Yea, right, Moz! I’m tired of telling you that just because you want me to be your squire isn't gonna make it so. That said, it's a relief that fellow took off. And no matter our next steps, I'm hesitant to follow him onto his home turf with his quarry, even if it is the fastest way to travel.”
He moves towards the tree hollow where El is guarding the baby, and picks it up. "There, there, little one! You're going to be alright now. Just need to figure out what to do with you..."
Holding the baby, and with El by his side, he turns towards Sascha and Sir Lorn, and says, "Thanks again, to all of you! We were in a real bind until you folks came along. Now, what's going on with the druid? Where are you guys headed next?"
Alorin, Moz, and Sascha
The infant fusses a bit as she is picked up from El's warm furry embrace, looking up with bleary newborn eyes as Alorin cradles her. A tinge of blue still colors her mouth and nose, and she manages only a weak cry. Her encounter with the shadowy mist seems to have her shaken and on the edge of life.
"By the Flame!" says Sir Lorn. "You have my gratitude for rescuing that poor child. Shame on these heathens for these practices! Someone needs to light a fire. That child will freeze! There are firepits in Kromac's clearing, but I would rather take him indoors as quickly as possible."
William glares at the Druid's last standing warrior, who, finishing his grisly ritual, now stands up straight. "Finish what you started," the warrior spits out.
"Sure," William says, and he returns his mace to his belt, pulls out a length of rope, and starts to secure the man.
The warrior's eyes glow angrily, but he does not struggle, and lets himself be tied up. "Kromac will have his sacrifice," he says, "even if you are too much of a coward to offer it."
Sir Lorn says, "We'll secure them both and bring them back to the village, turn them over to their own people. Sascha has the delerium--we're going to destroy that here, in a moment, and then it'll be off our hands... after that, well, Captain Birdstone said he'd wait an hour or two for us, so William, Eberhard, and I will board his ship that's heading back to Elyria. We were ready to cast off, but this was more important. Druids worshipping delerium is the last thing this island needs."
The paladin gives an odd look to the gnome. "Greetings, Sir Moz. I take it you came here for the child. No fey hands will touch this child under my watch, I'm afraid. You can go back to whence you came."
Moz the Magnificent
" Self-righteous Sacred Flame jackasses, ohh I am scared of the dark so I need to worship a night light to keep the monsters away." Moz thinks to himself. Forcing a smile back his face. "Fear not, Sir Knight. I am content to have prevented the sacrifice of this poor child." Holding his hands up to Sir Lorn, in a sign of appeasement. "But you are correct we should get this child inside and warmed up." turning his back to the Knights and looking at Alorin. "Come Alorin let's take the baby inside the hut to warm up. Maybe we can find some milk for the child. We will need to supplies for the trip back to Darryl." With his back to the knights he gives Alorin a look that says; We need to talk, his eyes darting to the Druid's hut.
Turning back to the knights "While you secure your prisoners, we will gather some supplies for the child" It is then he notices the octrine crystal in Sascha's hands. his eyes grow wide. "Ohhh what is that? It is so shiny." His fingers begin to twitch.
Valanthe finishes healing the magnificent bovine and calmly turns to look the cleric in the eye:
"My social awkwardness?" Valanthe responds cooly in common with a look of incredulity on her face, all attempts at formality gone completely from her frame and tone.
Now, Valanthe has had her fair share of elders talking down to her: telling her how she should behave, why this is important but that isn't, how to stand, how to sit, how to talk in polite company and why she always has to put her feelings or opinions aside. She did her best to listen to them because none of them followed a faith that threatened to destroy her home. Her blood boiling at the ignorance and arrogance of this fake-elf flamekeeper daring to speak down to her as if it was Valanthe who was out of place.
"My apologies, Flamekeeper" the young elf speaks with a smile on her lips but anger in her bright blue eyes "Subtle was not my intention: You are an elf dressed as a human, speaking sylvan in Eladria. A bugbear in a tutu playing the fiddle would look less awkward than you. But yes, I will escort you to Darryl" Valanthe nods respectfully to Angus.
Turning her back to the cleric, Valanthe shouts "Siannodel! Where did you go? Siannodel!"
Speaking to Vaelorn, Valanthe says "Master, I will accompany these two to Darryl, whether Siannodel,..." and she waves her hand above her head in annoyance "...wherever he is, will take us or not." Get this apostate off of Skye as soon as possible, Valanthe reasons in her mind. And Darryl means boats and boats mean her gone! "Should you still choose to join us I would welcome your company. Siannodel, seriously, come on!"
Alorin
Alorin responds, ”Aye, right you both are! We need some shelter and warmth at the earliest, and once the child recovers somewhat, we need to decide her destination. I'm not so sure returning her to her parents is an option at all, for example. Speaking of shelter, though, I do remember seeing a hut in the clearing nearby, though I have no idea who it might belong to.”
Turning towards Sascha and Sir Lorn, he asks, "And what is this stone you seek to destroy? How hard can it possibly be to destroy something like that? And why? Though I must admit the stone looks rather pretty indeed, and in my experience, pretty things are almost always deadly as well."
(Can Alorin now see the stone clearly or up close, now that the fight has ended? If so, I would like to see if he can sense anything from it.)
Angus, Rivyre, and Valanthe
A flutter of wings explodes from the upper boughs of the waving trees that shield the winding path with their magically retained winter foliage, and a raven soars down, dropping heavily to land on Valanthe's shoulder. She has seen Siannodel take this wildshape before, and she knows he is particularly xenophobic about the humans of Skye.
"I will take you," the raven croaks. "But mind your tongue. Follow me." Spreading its wings, the bird leaps into the air, and soars down the marshy slope towards the edge of the lake. A large old tree, its gnarled roots sunk deep in the quagmire at the edge of the vast lake, seems to stoop even as it towers over the spare and slender youngsters that dare try to match its waterlogged fortitude, creeping at the lake's edge uncertainly. The raven perches on a branch of the old tree and caws, ruffling its feathers and shaking its head as freezing rain continues to pelt uncomfortably down. "Don't take all day, now." Its faint croak carries back up the slope.
Vaelorn will look to Valanthe then at the other two, with the raven ushing them forward and nod as though he'd made up his mind about something. "Well, young Neris, this can prove to be quite a learning experience for you." He then turns to get Rivyre's attention "Do take steps to keep her well Flamekeeper, I'll see if I can find any answers about your home in the archives." with that the Scholar leaves the group
Rivyre responds to Vaelorn, "Thank you for taking your time to look into my request. No harm will come to Neris, you have my solemn vow."
In Sidhe (Elvish) she finishes, "Siubhal cothromach mo charaid 'S gum faiceadh Lugh a' Ghrian thu 's gad chumail sàbhailte."
(Fair journeys my friend & may Lugh the Sun watch over you & keep you safe.)