Sascha looks over the unconscious druid. For a moment she regrets not executing the man, but she sheaths her blade. As much as she'd tried to reason with these people, they had chosen to set themselves against her, and she couldn't allow them to doom themselves in the name of a sacrifice. As the warrior spoke, accused her of cowardice, noble scoffed. she looked at the man with a shake of her head. In this moment she had some respect for her defeated foe, but their zealotry and bullheadedness would be the death of them.
"If it is cowardice to believe the people of Skye deserve better than to be plunged into darkness and madness then I am as craven as any woman you'll ever meet."
The woman strode across the grove and collected her bow, before returning to Solis, she stroked the horse's mane before walking with him, leading him by the reigns toward Aloran and Sir Lorn, She reaches out, the octarine stone resting in her palm, buzzing and crackling against her skin.
""I have it, Sir Lorn."
Sascha volunteers. She's unsure of what the knight plans to do with it in the immediate term, but she was certain he'd want to destroy it sooner rather than later. she stood there, she turned her attention toward Alorin. The man had been unconscious for most of the fight.
"And you, friend? Are you alright?"
As Aloran asks about the stone question, she looks down at the thing.
"A wicked thing... This is the stuff of the comet that destroyed Drakkenheim and turned her people to monsters, and these fools would have bought that madness here."
William finishes tying up the warrior, and Eberhard, slinging his bow over his back, similarly binds the unconscious Druid. He spends a few minutes trying to shake him awake, without success.
Sir Lorn looks at Moz. "Go to that hut, and start a fire on whatever hearth you find. You remember the crowd that fled here as we battled---our reception back in Darryl may not be welcoming." He nods to Alorin. "Please keep the child close to you. Her parents will not want her back. They would believe her to be a changeling, and the Northfolk fear such things." Sir Lorn turns then to Sascha. "And this we must deal with, first, before we attempt any return to the village. I would give it no chance to cause harm to these people. Be careful, Lady Sascha, touching it with your hands like that, your gloves may not be adequate protection."
Turning to one of the large fir trees, Sir Lorn tears off two twigs, heavy with snow and needles, and uses them together to lift the glowing stone from Sascha's grasp. "We will destroy it now, in the clearing. Bring the prisoners with us, we do not want them to die in this cold, either." William and Eberhard argue briefly about how to divide their task, ending with Eberhard leading the bound warrior, and the larger William lifting the unconscious Druid. The warrior steadily follows where he is led, watching Sir Lorn with a predatory gaze.
The group steps out into the snow that covers Kromac's clearing. Covered lightly in the snow and huddled over eerily by the creeping mist of Vague, the ashen remains of a bonfire sits central in the clearing. A stone altar sits slightly north of it, and near them both is the small stone hut. Sir Lorn, carrying the glowing stone in the fir branches, heads for the stone altar, setting the delerium down on the flat, solid surface. The snow on the altar lights up with a pulsing, octarine glow. "Your mace, if you please, William,"Sir Lorn says, and William, with a grunt as his arms are full of the Druid, turns his hip towards the paladin.
Sir Lorn unfastens the mace, and, turning to the delerium on the stone, lifts it high in the air. "Sacred Flame, who transforms all by your purifying Fire; you are the salvation of those who turn to you. We beseech you to make powerless, banish, and drive out every evil power, presence, and machination; every evil influence, spell, or evil eye and all evil actions aimed against your servants. Where there is envy and malice, give us an abundance of goodness, endurance, victory, and chastity. Send the angels of Tarna over us, to protect us, body and soul. May they keep at bay and vanquish every evil power, every evil poison or malice invoked against us by corrupt and envious people. Then, under the protection of your authority, may we sing in gratitude: The Refining Fire has burned, and destroyed all malign things, the Radiant Flame has delivered us in life and hope that we may not wander forever in the Shadowlands. In the name of the Sacred Flame, I abjure you, cursed stone!" He slams the mace down, and it flashes with radiant light as it slams into the octarine stone.
The delerium crystal shatters, crumbling into ash, and the pulsing octarine light winks out. A crack like thunder splits across the clearing, and the stone altar cracks violently down the middle...
Just in that moment, a group of figures materialize from the woods to the north, and in the midst of them is a huge, furred creature with a pair of long, curved horns framing its head shadowed in the cold and sinister mist.
The raven waits, fluttering its feathers as the freezing rain falls on it, as Angus and Rivyre pack up their camp, bury their fire, and trudge down the slope with Valanthe towards the stooping old tree. As they draw close to it, they see that it is split down the middle, with a sizeable hollow hidden in its gnarled arms. The raven watches beadily from the topmost branches. Valanthe, remembering how this spell works, guides the others into the hollow of the tree, even Beef, hitched to the sled, squeezes mostly in, only her tail and the sled itself outside.
The raven croaks. A few esoteric words, oddly unintelligible, popping from its feathered throat. Syletha hisses and lashes her tail. The flaking and musty walls of the inside of the old tree are at least keeping out the freezing rain... and then, suddenly, Valanthe is struck with a vision of being at the Elfgates again, feeling the greenstone under her feet, the cracking and shuddering of the gates, the churning of the pool, the pained cry and awful wrenching in her gut. The cold, clinging, mist of Vague springs up around them all again, and Beef bellows, tossing at the mist with her horns, and backpedals out of the tree, pushing the sled behind her. The others stumble out after her, and the tree is not the old stooped hollow by the lake, but an enormous fir, dropping pinecones the size of human heads, which crunch under their feet in the snow and trip them up as they struggle to gain their bearings.
A snow-covered clearing stretches out beyond the trees... at its center, over a large, flat stone cracked in two pieces, is a man in silver-plated armor, raising his head to meet Beef's gaze as the fairy cow swings around to face him. And all around the clearing, shadowy forms grow and swell at the edges of the trees, and a chilling, wintered howl starts up from every direction that is somewhat more than just the wind.
Alorin is about to assure Sascha that he is alright and thank her for her concern, when he sees the unique color of the stone in her hand, and hears her words about the comet that destroyed the city of Drakkenheim. Somehow, in the eerie woods, the two thought click together, and he remembers his occasionally recurring nightmare, the one that started that fateful night his journey became a solitary one. A city of tall spires as elegant as the people who lived amongst them. A clear sky, that was suddenly marred by a large, almost flaming, stone. A stone, whose color he could never describe, and had never seen elsewhere… until today.
Alorin freezes in place, missing the rest of the conversation. His mind is stuck on the vision of that stone, and he mutters, inaudible, under his breath, “Could it be…?” When traders had told tales of the forsaken city of Drakkenheim, he had not paid them much heed, considering it another of the usual yarns merchants and sailors are wont to spin. It wasn’t until he saw this stone for himself, until he saw that distinctive octarine shade, that he realized that maybe there was more to this tale than just fanciful daydreams.
Sensing his emotional turmoil, El comes up to him and nuzzles up against him. This shakes Alorin out of his thoughts, and he glances down at the baby, and up at the group moving towards the clearing, before following them. He sees the group splitting up, Moz heading to the nearby hut, presumably for shelter, whereas the others head towards an altar near the center of the clearing. As they place the stone on the altar, and prepare to conduct what is presumably a ritual to destroy it, Alorin is torn. He wants to discover more about this stone, and about his dream and his past, but he is wary of the fascinating allure of the stone itself, and is reticent to engage with those memories at the moment. At this point, the child starts to get uneasy, perhaps due to the chill in the air, and Alorin decides to follow Moz into the hut instead. Besides, it looked like Moz wanted to talk, and might be starting to run out of patience. That would not do; he was prone to get … unpredictable when his patience ran thin.
Right as they start a fire (Alorin has a tinderbox, if it proves necessary), and Alorin places the baby in El’s warm and safe embrace, the ritual outside comes to an end, and they hear a loud thunderous blast from the clearing outside.
(P.S. Alorin does not talk about his nightmare, and has never discussed it with anyone other than El in the past. Given this, and his secluded upbringing, he does not realize that the city in his vision is not Drakkenheim.)
Spilling out of the tree onto the snow and pine cones, and tripping over an animal or sled or something, Valanthe stumbles to the ground and lies on her back and stares up through the pine needles of the massive fir tree. Taking in her surroundings, focusing on her breath and the pounding of her heart she closes her eyes and seeks calm. That was not a normal tree hop she concludes. Why did she feel the elfgates again? She shivers - half at recalling the dread and anguish she has now experienced twice and half at the cold ground upon which she lay.
Rolling onto her side and propping herself up on one elbow she surveys where they have ended up.
Staring at the glowing stone in Sascha's hand, he could feel the power radiating from it, calling to him . As Sascha mentions the comet his memory flashes back to the night he say it streaking across the sky. The night he entered the Feywilds and was found by Master. Licking his lips, Sir Lorn's orders shake his mind free. " Yes, yes no need to be so bossy" giving the knight a dirty look, he turns and walks over to the hut ahead of Alorin.
Entering the hut, he moves first to the fireplace. Tossing a few pieces of wood into it, he snaps his fingers and utters an arcane wood (Prestidigitation). Small flames appears and start to lick their up across the wood. Letting the fire grow, he starts ransacking the hut. Looking for food and furs for the baby, and any valuables for himself. Looking up as Alorin enters with the child.
" That pompous ass is right you know." Pausing as he is digging in a sack " If we return to Darryl with that Druid as a captive. Those meatheads are just going to free him and his henchmen and kill us. Kormac is respected in Darryl. The child will just be returned to the Druid. His family well not take him back and no one else in town will risk the wrath of Kormac to shelter him." Tossing the sack aside he grabs a bottle from a shelf, uncorks it, gives it a sniff and then takes a swig " The child has been promised to Kormac, and he is not about to give up that claim. He a possessive and brutal lord, no where on this island is safe for the child." Tossing the bottle to the side. " Today it was a hunter and a few hounds. Tomorrow it will be a full party and wolves, and after that even worse." Looking Alorin in the eyes "There is only one place we can take him to be safe." Looking at the baby in Alorin's arms " In my Master's court he will know only joy and laughter. He will never know sickness or hunger. We need to ditch these sanctimonious fire worshippers before they get us killed."
( Moz is searching the hut for food for the child and valuables for himself. Also if there is any lamp oil or other flammable substance)
Hearing Valanthestumble over and across the wooden sled, Angus steps out of the tree. He kneels down besides her and offer his hand so she can pull herself up, scanning the area they now find themselves in. Strange, he thinks to himself, the altar has been broken. And what is a knight doing at Kromac's clearing? Something has occurred here.
"Careful now, we might have trouble quite soon" Angus whispers the rest of his group.
"Hail traveler! Are you lost? It is not often that a knight pays tribute to Kromac." Angus bellows towards the armored individual.
Rivyre stumbles out of the cramped tree as she trips on Beef's sled & nearly falls on top of Neris. Shivering in the snow she stands up, brushes off any snow & water from her robes, & begins to look around getting a sense of what just happened. She's heard of such magic used by druids to teleport instantaneously from one location another..., though she expected the trip to feel a little smoother. The lurking shadows & the creepy howl of the wind sends chills up Rivyre's spine. Her's & Angus's encounter w/ the ghouls had a similar feeling...., these mists of Vague as she's heard it called really unsettles her. What has been going on in Skye in all these years she's been gone?
While taking in these uneasy feelings she does see the 3 individuals up on this near the cracked stone altar, 2 of whom she recognizes immediately! It's the sailors & warriors William & Ebherhard from the ship. That ship she chartered should have left some time ago..., why are they still here? More unusual though is the 3rd warrior clad in well crafted Elyrian armor & robes who is none other than Silver Order Knight. It's strange to see one so far out. What is his reasoning for being on Skye & his presence may very well exacerbate even more problems than Rivyre has encountered w/ the 2 Eladrian elves, Neris & Siannodel.
-Gathering herself she replies: "Flame be with you Sir Knight!" I am Flamekeeper Rivyre & what brings you all this way to the Isles of Skye? It is most unusual seeing the Silver Order this far out." -Briefly turning to the other 2 warriors, "William? Eberhard? I thought you two would have sailed away from here by now. What compelled you to stay?" -Looking around the other 3 people a 4th individual comes into sight & she believes she recognizes this person as well, but only from a brief encounter back during her early days in the local church back in Altbruke. "Less my eyes deceive me..., Lady Sascha Von Syndow? Is that you?"
“I don't know if I mistrust them so much, but I do agree that the child can no longer go back home,” Alorin begins with a wistful look in his eyes. The look steels to a resolve as he continues, “But don't try to fool me as if I don't know how life is like in the Feywild. That place would be no kinder to a mortal child stuck there with no clue or choice than the parents who abandoned her would be. I don't think the solution to this conundrum is quite so simple; we might need a third option for the time being.”
He turns to Moz and continues, "It's not that I don't appreciate the gestures of your master. I wouldn't have found the baby if not for him. But the child is yet too young for the treachery of the fae courts. Perhaps when she is older... Something tells me we're about to get pulled into some larger trouble. If we can find someone capable to watch her awhile..."Seeing Moz's expression fall, he adds, "Maybe someone not of a quick-to-judge faith, perhaps? Someone more... neutral. And we could leave a letter to let the child know whom it can thank for its life, and perhaps we can introduce her to the wonders of the Fae Realms, and your master's court, once she is old enough to appreciate these things."
Around this time, Alorin hears the commotion outside, and approaches a window to look out. "Besides, I think we're far too late for a quick exit. Maybe it already was from the beginning."
Groaning slightly at Alorin's words " You got someone in mind? Not many people on this island would meet those criteria. The Academy or maybe the Elves about the only ones I can think of, and neither are known for taking in orphans." Hearing the commotion outside he joins Alorin at the window. "Bloody Hells, more of these Flamers...... wait a minute." Squinting his eyes at the group " Is that an Eladrin dressed as a Flamekeeper?" Looking at Alorin quizzically. "You ever heard of that? That is even stranger then a regular elf joining that cult." Looking back out the window suspiciously. "It could be a trap, maybe the Huntsman got reinforcements, or it's another Fey lord making a play." Hopping down from the window. "I know you are trusting guy Alorin, and I like that about you" Giving him a grin "But we should approach this with caution, maybe watch and see how this plays out first?" gesturing out the window, he goes back to ransacking the hut for baby supplies and valuables. "Iago where are you when I need you." he mutters quietly to himself.
(Still just searching the hut for valuables and supplies, and flammable stuff.)
Sascha had no objection to relinquishing the crystal to the paladin. She took note of the sensation that coursed through her body when first she had handled the crystal, and how much better the felt as soon as the wicked thing was out of her hands. She nodded along with Sirl Lorn's reasoning and as the time came to destroy the stone she followed the group , staying close by Aloran as she did. The man's reaction to the Delerium had her intrigued. However, when the time came for Lorn's prayer, and for the destruction of the stone, she could think of nothing else. She nodded along at the conclusion of the prayer she made her own sound of assent though the crack of thunder from the stone swallowed such a sound immediately.
Valanthe gratefully accepts Angus’ hand and gets to her feet, still winded from reliving the Elfgate experience. The others seem less affected, she notes. Was I the only one who felt it? She instinctively thinks of Vaelorn and wonders if he felt it too.
As she stands next to Angus and dusts the snow and bits of pine cone off of her clothes first Angus, then Rivyre, call out to the bright and shiny silver knight at the altar. Valanthe flinches at each shouted syllable The feeling when you chose the wrong tree to fall out of… and contemplates making herself scarce. She discretely pulls the hood of her cloak up and over her head and walks back around the tree to put something in between her and all these flamers.
”The mages won’t bother, not unless the child has some magic to her. I guess we might need to talk to the elves.”
Alorin looks over the newcomers; he doesn’t know the Eladrin cleric, but he does see a few familiar faces. “No, this has nothing to do with the fey, I think. I know some of that group. The big guy and his even bigger cow are unmistakeable. Makes for a good sparring partner. But he’s usually out by Giant’s Lean. What’s he doing leaving his watch?”
As he looks at the other familiar figure, a smirk of mirth briefly curls his lips. “The other elf, though. Little Neris. Quite a rapscallion, if I do say so myself. I get the feeling you two would get along swimmingly. And woe to anybody else around you once you have someone to help you with your pranks,” Alorin sighs in an intentionally exaggerated fashion.
Having said all that, however, Alorin stays at the window. He is not in a hurry to leave the baby in here and go out into the snow. He plans to keep an eye out to make sure a fight doesn’t break out, and to intervene if one does. At the same time, seeing Neris makes him think about a simpler time when they used to wander the isles, with not a care in the world.
"It's done," Sir Lorn says to Sascha, but even as he speaks the words, he is looking up, seeing the figures emerge from the woods. The mace had rested on the broken altar stone, and he lifts it up now, and hands it back to William, who hurriedly sets the unconscious Druid down to take it, his eyes also fixed on the new group.
"Fey?" William mutters to Sir Lorn, but then he squints, seeing Rivyre. "Wait a minute, no, that's Flamekeeper Rivyre that came here with us on the boat this morning. Grew up here. I don't know the rest of those folks."
"Flame be with you," Sir Lorn replies, nodding to Rivyre and Angus both. "I am Sir Geraint Lorn of the Silver Order, and I know Kromac's clearing well, unfortunately. I've been here on Skye for several months on commission. The boat was indeed scheduled to leave, and I was to be on it along with good William and farseeing Eberhard here, but there was an important issue that needed to be dealt with."
"Right that," William says, with a guttural laugh. "Some Lochlann raiders that docked about the same time as we did brought a fine piece of delerium with them and were intent to come here and offer it to Kromac."
"I've just destroyed it," Sir Lorn says, "and I wonder if that has anything to do with your sudden apparition here, right at the same moment. This hardly seems like it's a coincidence." He takes his eyes off of the group for a moment to warily eye the treeline and the strange, flickering shadows that seem to be growing at the edge of it.
~*~*~
The small stone hut is very simply appointed. The fireplace is built of stones with a large hearth, with an iron swivel set over it from which hangs a small iron pot. A simple mattress stuffed with straw is in one corner with a thick coverlet of bear pelt. Sprigs of dried herbs and mistletoe are strung above the fireplace and along the walls, and some of them smell strange and enticing, while others smell downright alarming and threatening. Amongst the bunches of herbs are hung skulls of different animals, painted with blood in disturbing symbols and patterns. A rack of knives of different sizes, including a large butcher knife, sits in another corner, all of them scoured clean. There seems to be no food anywhere, and naught but a couple of buckets and baskets, an extra heap of straw, and a few extra skins and pelts.
Shokced at hearing delerium has made it to the Isles Rivyre exclaims, "DELERIUM??? HERE? ON SKYE??? BY TARNA'S HOLY LIGHT THAT IS VERY BAD!!!" Hastily looking around the surrounding area looking at the cracked stone altar, the unconcious druid on the ground, & still thinking about the howling wind & cold shivering feeling when she stepped out of the tree...., Rivyre tries gathering her thoughts & trying to think of words to say.
She breathes in heavily...., "Okay...., first off thank the divine you were here to stop the Worshipers of Kromac from completing their ritual & offering. Part of my home is already under siege by an unknown phenomenon, my original reason for coming back to Skye, & I would hate to see an even worse catastrophe happen."
"Second question, did these shadowy figures, howling wind, & cold shiver occur after you destroyed the crystal becasue this is also very unnatural & unnerving?"
"Third question, did the destruction of the crystal cause that damage?" Rivyre staring & pointing to the stone altar. "If it did, not only have you made the Kromacian worshiopers beleive you have insulted their deity, you have also descreated one of their holy sites by this damage! Once this druid on the ground wakes up & realizes what's been done, he's going to want blood & vengeance. I can also only imagine if the Chief of Clan Lochlan finds about this & we're in deep trouble!" Pausing to collect her thoughts, "Look I know the majority of our Faith think those who still revere the Old Gods consider them heretics & demon worshipers. As a former practitioner as my parents raised me & my siblings before my willing conversion, I can't condemn those who still seek guidance & give offerings to them. BUT, we're going to need a diplomatic solution & fast if any of you want to make it off this island alive without the Followers of Kromac starting a witch hunt!
Slowing down now getting the major incident out of the way for now, Rivyre continues: "Anyway this isAngus Lochlan, of Clan Lochlan & Steward of The Silver Sword, gesturing to the large burly man.I met him in Giant's Lean on way to Almorra after crossing through from Darryl. We talked & exchanged stories, beleifs, & he gave me a quick sparring session..., of which I failed at miserably. He did stop me from being rash in going to Almorra as the terrible fate has befallen it in search of my family after the century or so i've been gone. He agreed to help me find answers & has been travelling w/ me since then. Traversing the Fairy Roads later we encountered this elf of Eladria, (gesturing to the Neris) Neris Amakiir, Daughter of Rolentraveling to investigate Darryl. I offered to help her w/ their investigation while another elf who had to depart her side is looking into my personal request.
(Asking to Neris hiding behind a tree) "Was the rumor of Delerium arriving on Skye your reason for coming down here?"
"What a dump." Moz says as he kicks the mattress apart. Picking up one of painted animal skulls and inspecting it. " An elf with a sense of humor? That would be the strangest thing I heard of, If I hadn't just seen an Eladrin dressed as a Flamekeeper. Throw in a barbarian and his cow, makes this a very interesting season of the Vauge indeed." Bored he tosses the animal over his shoulder. Stepping back up to window. " Well it doesn't look like the are going to kill each other, guess we might as well make our introductions. I imagine you can sweet talk that barbarian to give up some milk for the child." Idly tossing some of the spare firewood around the hut, he looks too Alorin. " Why don't you go talk to them, I will be right behind you" he says with a wixked grin as he pokes the fire with a piece of wood"
Alorin realizes that Moz is up to something destructive and takes a quick look around the hut to see if anything in here, such as the herbs, might be useful in the longer run (Perception: 13+7=20 in case that applies; access to a Herbalism Kit allows him to identify plants). He pulls out a satchel, and opens it up to reveal a collection of pouches, vials, and tools made for the collection and storing of herbs and other ingredients, as well as a small jornal that Alorin retrieves and begins to consult. Using the journal, he finds several potentially useful herbs from among those hanging in the hut, and collects a few samples of each.
After grabbing anything of value, Alorin bundles up the baby to keep her warm, and steps out of the hut along with El. He looks over the group entering the clearing, and starts by greeting the hulking figure of the barbarian. “Good to see you again, Angus! Pity I'm in no shape for a spar right now. What brings you so far out from Giant's Lean and your watch?” He then quickly adds, "And sorry for the abrupt request, but is there any chance Beef could spare some milk? I have a child here that I just rescued, and no way to feed her."
He then turns to the elf that is trying to hide, and grins at her, “Well, if it isn't little Neris. Been a while, hasn't it? How have you been? Is your father doing alright?”
Next, he turns to the unknown figure of the Flamekeeper, “Well met, Flamekeeper! Rivyre, was it? Unfortunately, you're right. There is likely a target on our backs.”
Finally, he glances at the raven sitting on Neris's shoulder. Something about the creature's posture or expression catches his eye, and he cocks his head, but he is not entirely sure what. (Insight: 5+5=10)
Whistling a jaunty tune Moz gives Alorin a minute to check the herbs before he start tossing burning logs around the huts interior. Stepping out of the hut he pauses and looks inside with a self satisfied sigh. " So pretty." Turning he skips up to the others. Hearing Alorin's tell Angus how 'he' rescued the child, Moz chimes in " WE rescued the child." Stopping beside Alorin he looks Angus up and down. " By the gods you are big one. Did your mother dally with a orge?"
Looking to the others he gives a grand bow. " Greetings I am Sir Mozzarella Gnomingtonson, the Emerald Knight of Skye" Looking at Rivyre, he cocks his head " Where is the costume party?" Behind him the flames and smoke begin licking out the windows of the hut.
On hearing the familiar voice of Alorin, Valanthe steps out from behind the tree, and pulls down her hood. “Alorin?” she says quietly to herself in disbelief and then runs full tilt towards the half-elf with every intent on wrapping her arms around him and not letting go until he taps out. Until she sees what he’s carrying in his arms and skids to a halt:
“Uh, oh, y-you have a baby now? Congratula…shunns..?” her voice trails off quizzically as if unsure of what one says to a new parent and not without a hint of disappointment. How long has it been since she saw him last?Long enough to have had a child?! Her mind tries to fathom how time passes so differently for non-elves as she stares at the babe. She looks back up to Alorin’s face and gives him a big smile “That’s… neat” she says awkwardly just as a gnome approaches them and makes a joke at Rivyre’s expense.
Giggling, Valanthe steps forward and gives an equally grand bow and formal greeting: “Well met, Sir Knight. I am Val… er… Neris Amakiir of Eladria”. Squatting down to pet El she ponders for a moment before quietly asking “What’s the deal with the Silver Knight? Anything I should be worried about?”
"Ahah! Alorin, it seems the gods have crossed our paths once more!" Angus lets out a hearty laugh as he gives Alorin a heavy pat on the shoulder. "And to you, 'Sir' Mozzarella" Angus steps and looms over the gnome, making sure his size is seen. "I thought knights knew better than to insult those they just met. Even more so to make comments about one's mother."
Angus then turns his gaze back to Alorin. "I would ask when you keep such strange company, I thought having might and size was required for knighthood."
"Also, why is that cabin on fire?"
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Sascha looks over the unconscious druid. For a moment she regrets not executing the man, but she sheaths her blade. As much as she'd tried to reason with these people, they had chosen to set themselves against her, and she couldn't allow them to doom themselves in the name of a sacrifice. As the warrior spoke, accused her of cowardice, noble scoffed. she looked at the man with a shake of her head. In this moment she had some respect for her defeated foe, but their zealotry and bullheadedness would be the death of them.
"If it is cowardice to believe the people of Skye deserve better than to be plunged into darkness and madness then I am as craven as any woman you'll ever meet."
The woman strode across the grove and collected her bow, before returning to Solis, she stroked the horse's mane before walking with him, leading him by the reigns toward Aloran and Sir Lorn, She reaches out, the octarine stone resting in her palm, buzzing and crackling against her skin.
""I have it, Sir Lorn."
Sascha volunteers. She's unsure of what the knight plans to do with it in the immediate term, but she was certain he'd want to destroy it sooner rather than later. she stood there, she turned her attention toward Alorin. The man had been unconscious for most of the fight.
"And you, friend? Are you alright?"
As Aloran asks about the stone question, she looks down at the thing.
"A wicked thing... This is the stuff of the comet that destroyed Drakkenheim and turned her people to monsters, and these fools would have bought that madness here."
Alorin, Moz, and Sascha
William finishes tying up the warrior, and Eberhard, slinging his bow over his back, similarly binds the unconscious Druid. He spends a few minutes trying to shake him awake, without success.
Sir Lorn looks at Moz. "Go to that hut, and start a fire on whatever hearth you find. You remember the crowd that fled here as we battled---our reception back in Darryl may not be welcoming." He nods to Alorin. "Please keep the child close to you. Her parents will not want her back. They would believe her to be a changeling, and the Northfolk fear such things." Sir Lorn turns then to Sascha. "And this we must deal with, first, before we attempt any return to the village. I would give it no chance to cause harm to these people. Be careful, Lady Sascha, touching it with your hands like that, your gloves may not be adequate protection."
Turning to one of the large fir trees, Sir Lorn tears off two twigs, heavy with snow and needles, and uses them together to lift the glowing stone from Sascha's grasp. "We will destroy it now, in the clearing. Bring the prisoners with us, we do not want them to die in this cold, either." William and Eberhard argue briefly about how to divide their task, ending with Eberhard leading the bound warrior, and the larger William lifting the unconscious Druid. The warrior steadily follows where he is led, watching Sir Lorn with a predatory gaze.
The group steps out into the snow that covers Kromac's clearing. Covered lightly in the snow and huddled over eerily by the creeping mist of Vague, the ashen remains of a bonfire sits central in the clearing. A stone altar sits slightly north of it, and near them both is the small stone hut. Sir Lorn, carrying the glowing stone in the fir branches, heads for the stone altar, setting the delerium down on the flat, solid surface. The snow on the altar lights up with a pulsing, octarine glow. "Your mace, if you please, William," Sir Lorn says, and William, with a grunt as his arms are full of the Druid, turns his hip towards the paladin.
Sir Lorn unfastens the mace, and, turning to the delerium on the stone, lifts it high in the air. "Sacred Flame, who transforms all by your purifying Fire; you are the salvation of those who turn to you. We beseech you to make powerless, banish, and drive out every evil power, presence, and machination; every evil influence, spell, or evil eye and all evil actions aimed against your servants. Where there is envy and malice, give us an abundance of goodness, endurance, victory, and chastity. Send the angels of Tarna over us, to protect us, body and soul. May they keep at bay and vanquish every evil power, every evil poison or malice invoked against us by corrupt and envious people. Then, under the protection of your authority, may we sing in gratitude: The Refining Fire has burned, and destroyed all malign things, the Radiant Flame has delivered us in life and hope that we may not wander forever in the Shadowlands. In the name of the Sacred Flame, I abjure you, cursed stone!" He slams the mace down, and it flashes with radiant light as it slams into the octarine stone.
The delerium crystal shatters, crumbling into ash, and the pulsing octarine light winks out. A crack like thunder splits across the clearing, and the stone altar cracks violently down the middle...
Just in that moment, a group of figures materialize from the woods to the north, and in the midst of them is a huge, furred creature with a pair of long, curved horns framing its head shadowed in the cold and sinister mist.
Angus, Rivyre, and Valanthe
The raven waits, fluttering its feathers as the freezing rain falls on it, as Angus and Rivyre pack up their camp, bury their fire, and trudge down the slope with Valanthe towards the stooping old tree. As they draw close to it, they see that it is split down the middle, with a sizeable hollow hidden in its gnarled arms. The raven watches beadily from the topmost branches. Valanthe, remembering how this spell works, guides the others into the hollow of the tree, even Beef, hitched to the sled, squeezes mostly in, only her tail and the sled itself outside.
The raven croaks. A few esoteric words, oddly unintelligible, popping from its feathered throat. Syletha hisses and lashes her tail. The flaking and musty walls of the inside of the old tree are at least keeping out the freezing rain... and then, suddenly, Valanthe is struck with a vision of being at the Elfgates again, feeling the greenstone under her feet, the cracking and shuddering of the gates, the churning of the pool, the pained cry and awful wrenching in her gut. The cold, clinging, mist of Vague springs up around them all again, and Beef bellows, tossing at the mist with her horns, and backpedals out of the tree, pushing the sled behind her. The others stumble out after her, and the tree is not the old stooped hollow by the lake, but an enormous fir, dropping pinecones the size of human heads, which crunch under their feet in the snow and trip them up as they struggle to gain their bearings.
A snow-covered clearing stretches out beyond the trees... at its center, over a large, flat stone cracked in two pieces, is a man in silver-plated armor, raising his head to meet Beef's gaze as the fairy cow swings around to face him. And all around the clearing, shadowy forms grow and swell at the edges of the trees, and a chilling, wintered howl starts up from every direction that is somewhat more than just the wind.
Alorin
Alorin is about to assure Sascha that he is alright and thank her for her concern, when he sees the unique color of the stone in her hand, and hears her words about the comet that destroyed the city of Drakkenheim. Somehow, in the eerie woods, the two thought click together, and he remembers his occasionally recurring nightmare, the one that started that fateful night his journey became a solitary one. A city of tall spires as elegant as the people who lived amongst them. A clear sky, that was suddenly marred by a large, almost flaming, stone. A stone, whose color he could never describe, and had never seen elsewhere… until today.
Alorin freezes in place, missing the rest of the conversation. His mind is stuck on the vision of that stone, and he mutters, inaudible, under his breath, “Could it be…?” When traders had told tales of the forsaken city of Drakkenheim, he had not paid them much heed, considering it another of the usual yarns merchants and sailors are wont to spin. It wasn’t until he saw this stone for himself, until he saw that distinctive octarine shade, that he realized that maybe there was more to this tale than just fanciful daydreams.
Sensing his emotional turmoil, El comes up to him and nuzzles up against him. This shakes Alorin out of his thoughts, and he glances down at the baby, and up at the group moving towards the clearing, before following them. He sees the group splitting up, Moz heading to the nearby hut, presumably for shelter, whereas the others head towards an altar near the center of the clearing. As they place the stone on the altar, and prepare to conduct what is presumably a ritual to destroy it, Alorin is torn. He wants to discover more about this stone, and about his dream and his past, but he is wary of the fascinating allure of the stone itself, and is reticent to engage with those memories at the moment. At this point, the child starts to get uneasy, perhaps due to the chill in the air, and Alorin decides to follow Moz into the hut instead. Besides, it looked like Moz wanted to talk, and might be starting to run out of patience. That would not do; he was prone to get … unpredictable when his patience ran thin.
Right as they start a fire (Alorin has a tinderbox, if it proves necessary), and Alorin places the baby in El’s warm and safe embrace, the ritual outside comes to an end, and they hear a loud thunderous blast from the clearing outside.
(P.S. Alorin does not talk about his nightmare, and has never discussed it with anyone other than El in the past. Given this, and his secluded upbringing, he does not realize that the city in his vision is not Drakkenheim.)
Spilling out of the tree onto the snow and pine cones, and tripping over an animal or sled or something, Valanthe stumbles to the ground and lies on her back and stares up through the pine needles of the massive fir tree. Taking in her surroundings, focusing on her breath and the pounding of her heart she closes her eyes and seeks calm. That was not a normal tree hop she concludes. Why did she feel the elfgates again? She shivers - half at recalling the dread and anguish she has now experienced twice and half at the cold ground upon which she lay.
Rolling onto her side and propping herself up on one elbow she surveys where they have ended up.
Moz the Magnificent
Staring at the glowing stone in Sascha's hand, he could feel the power radiating from it, calling to him . As Sascha mentions the comet his memory flashes back to the night he say it streaking across the sky. The night he entered the Feywilds and was found by Master. Licking his lips, Sir Lorn's orders shake his mind free. " Yes, yes no need to be so bossy" giving the knight a dirty look, he turns and walks over to the hut ahead of Alorin.
Entering the hut, he moves first to the fireplace. Tossing a few pieces of wood into it, he snaps his fingers and utters an arcane wood (Prestidigitation). Small flames appears and start to lick their up across the wood. Letting the fire grow, he starts ransacking the hut. Looking for food and furs for the baby, and any valuables for himself. Looking up as Alorin enters with the child.
" That pompous ass is right you know." Pausing as he is digging in a sack " If we return to Darryl with that Druid as a captive. Those meatheads are just going to free him and his henchmen and kill us. Kormac is respected in Darryl. The child will just be returned to the Druid. His family well not take him back and no one else in town will risk the wrath of Kormac to shelter him." Tossing the sack aside he grabs a bottle from a shelf, uncorks it, gives it a sniff and then takes a swig " The child has been promised to Kormac, and he is not about to give up that claim. He a possessive and brutal lord, no where on this island is safe for the child." Tossing the bottle to the side. " Today it was a hunter and a few hounds. Tomorrow it will be a full party and wolves, and after that even worse." Looking Alorin in the eyes "There is only one place we can take him to be safe." Looking at the baby in Alorin's arms " In my Master's court he will know only joy and laughter. He will never know sickness or hunger. We need to ditch these sanctimonious fire worshippers before they get us killed."
( Moz is searching the hut for food for the child and valuables for himself. Also if there is any lamp oil or other flammable substance)
Hearing Valanthe stumble over and across the wooden sled, Angus steps out of the tree. He kneels down besides her and offer his hand so she can pull herself up, scanning the area they now find themselves in.
Strange, he thinks to himself, the altar has been broken. And what is a knight doing at Kromac's clearing? Something has occurred here.
"Careful now, we might have trouble quite soon" Angus whispers the rest of his group.
"Hail traveler! Are you lost? It is not often that a knight pays tribute to Kromac." Angus bellows towards the armored individual.
Rivyre stumbles out of the cramped tree as she trips on Beef's sled & nearly falls on top of Neris. Shivering in the snow she stands up, brushes off any snow & water from her robes, & begins to look around getting a sense of what just happened. She's heard of such magic used by druids to teleport instantaneously from one location another..., though she expected the trip to feel a little smoother. The lurking shadows & the creepy howl of the wind sends chills up Rivyre's spine. Her's & Angus's encounter w/ the ghouls had a similar feeling...., these mists of Vague as she's heard it called really unsettles her. What has been going on in Skye in all these years she's been gone?
While taking in these uneasy feelings she does see the 3 individuals up on this near the cracked stone altar, 2 of whom she recognizes immediately! It's the sailors & warriors William & Ebherhard from the ship. That ship she chartered should have left some time ago..., why are they still here? More unusual though is the 3rd warrior clad in well crafted Elyrian armor & robes who is none other than Silver Order Knight. It's strange to see one so far out. What is his reasoning for being on Skye & his presence may very well exacerbate even more problems than Rivyre has encountered w/ the 2 Eladrian elves, Neris & Siannodel.
-Gathering herself she replies: "Flame be with you Sir Knight!" I am Flamekeeper Rivyre & what brings you all this way to the Isles of Skye? It is most unusual seeing the Silver Order this far out."
-Briefly turning to the other 2 warriors, "William? Eberhard? I thought you two would have sailed away from here by now. What compelled you to stay?"
-Looking around the other 3 people a 4th individual comes into sight & she believes she recognizes this person as well, but only from a brief encounter back during her early days in the local church back in Altbruke. "Less my eyes deceive me..., Lady Sascha Von Syndow? Is that you?"
Alorin
“I don't know if I mistrust them so much, but I do agree that the child can no longer go back home,” Alorin begins with a wistful look in his eyes. The look steels to a resolve as he continues, “But don't try to fool me as if I don't know how life is like in the Feywild. That place would be no kinder to a mortal child stuck there with no clue or choice than the parents who abandoned her would be. I don't think the solution to this conundrum is quite so simple; we might need a third option for the time being.”
He turns to Moz and continues, "It's not that I don't appreciate the gestures of your master. I wouldn't have found the baby if not for him. But the child is yet too young for the treachery of the fae courts. Perhaps when she is older... Something tells me we're about to get pulled into some larger trouble. If we can find someone capable to watch her awhile..." Seeing Moz's expression fall, he adds, "Maybe someone not of a quick-to-judge faith, perhaps? Someone more... neutral. And we could leave a letter to let the child know whom it can thank for its life, and perhaps we can introduce her to the wonders of the Fae Realms, and your master's court, once she is old enough to appreciate these things."
Around this time, Alorin hears the commotion outside, and approaches a window to look out. "Besides, I think we're far too late for a quick exit. Maybe it already was from the beginning."
Moz the Magnificent
Groaning slightly at Alorin's words " You got someone in mind? Not many people on this island would meet those criteria. The Academy or maybe the Elves about the only ones I can think of, and neither are known for taking in orphans." Hearing the commotion outside he joins Alorin at the window. "Bloody Hells, more of these Flamers...... wait a minute." Squinting his eyes at the group " Is that an Eladrin dressed as a Flamekeeper?" Looking at Alorin quizzically. "You ever heard of that? That is even stranger then a regular elf joining that cult." Looking back out the window suspiciously. "It could be a trap, maybe the Huntsman got reinforcements, or it's another Fey lord making a play." Hopping down from the window. "I know you are trusting guy Alorin, and I like that about you" Giving him a grin "But we should approach this with caution, maybe watch and see how this plays out first?" gesturing out the window, he goes back to ransacking the hut for baby supplies and valuables. "Iago where are you when I need you." he mutters quietly to himself.
(Still just searching the hut for valuables and supplies, and flammable stuff.)
Sascha had no objection to relinquishing the crystal to the paladin. She took note of the sensation that coursed through her body when first she had handled the crystal, and how much better the felt as soon as the wicked thing was out of her hands. She nodded along with Sirl Lorn's reasoning and as the time came to destroy the stone she followed the group , staying close by Aloran as she did. The man's reaction to the Delerium had her intrigued. However, when the time came for Lorn's prayer, and for the destruction of the stone, she could think of nothing else. She nodded along at the conclusion of the prayer she made her own sound of assent though the crack of thunder from the stone swallowed such a sound immediately.
"Is it done?" She asked, hesitantly.
Valanthe gratefully accepts Angus’ hand and gets to her feet, still winded from reliving the Elfgate experience. The others seem less affected, she notes. Was I the only one who felt it? She instinctively thinks of Vaelorn and wonders if he felt it too.
As she stands next to Angus and dusts the snow and bits of pine cone off of her clothes first Angus, then Rivyre, call out to the bright and shiny silver knight at the altar. Valanthe flinches at each shouted syllable The feeling when you chose the wrong tree to fall out of… and contemplates making herself scarce. She discretely pulls the hood of her cloak up and over her head and walks back around the tree to put something in between her and all these flamers.
Alorin
”The mages won’t bother, not unless the child has some magic to her. I guess we might need to talk to the elves.”
Alorin looks over the newcomers; he doesn’t know the Eladrin cleric, but he does see a few familiar faces. “No, this has nothing to do with the fey, I think. I know some of that group. The big guy and his even bigger cow are unmistakeable. Makes for a good sparring partner. But he’s usually out by Giant’s Lean. What’s he doing leaving his watch?”
As he looks at the other familiar figure, a smirk of mirth briefly curls his lips. “The other elf, though. Little Neris. Quite a rapscallion, if I do say so myself. I get the feeling you two would get along swimmingly. And woe to anybody else around you once you have someone to help you with your pranks,” Alorin sighs in an intentionally exaggerated fashion.
Having said all that, however, Alorin stays at the window. He is not in a hurry to leave the baby in here and go out into the snow. He plans to keep an eye out to make sure a fight doesn’t break out, and to intervene if one does. At the same time, seeing Neris makes him think about a simpler time when they used to wander the isles, with not a care in the world.
"It's done," Sir Lorn says to Sascha, but even as he speaks the words, he is looking up, seeing the figures emerge from the woods. The mace had rested on the broken altar stone, and he lifts it up now, and hands it back to William, who hurriedly sets the unconscious Druid down to take it, his eyes also fixed on the new group.
"Fey?" William mutters to Sir Lorn, but then he squints, seeing Rivyre. "Wait a minute, no, that's Flamekeeper Rivyre that came here with us on the boat this morning. Grew up here. I don't know the rest of those folks."
"Flame be with you," Sir Lorn replies, nodding to Rivyre and Angus both. "I am Sir Geraint Lorn of the Silver Order, and I know Kromac's clearing well, unfortunately. I've been here on Skye for several months on commission. The boat was indeed scheduled to leave, and I was to be on it along with good William and farseeing Eberhard here, but there was an important issue that needed to be dealt with."
"Right that," William says, with a guttural laugh. "Some Lochlann raiders that docked about the same time as we did brought a fine piece of delerium with them and were intent to come here and offer it to Kromac."
"I've just destroyed it," Sir Lorn says, "and I wonder if that has anything to do with your sudden apparition here, right at the same moment. This hardly seems like it's a coincidence." He takes his eyes off of the group for a moment to warily eye the treeline and the strange, flickering shadows that seem to be growing at the edge of it.
~*~*~
The small stone hut is very simply appointed. The fireplace is built of stones with a large hearth, with an iron swivel set over it from which hangs a small iron pot. A simple mattress stuffed with straw is in one corner with a thick coverlet of bear pelt. Sprigs of dried herbs and mistletoe are strung above the fireplace and along the walls, and some of them smell strange and enticing, while others smell downright alarming and threatening. Amongst the bunches of herbs are hung skulls of different animals, painted with blood in disturbing symbols and patterns. A rack of knives of different sizes, including a large butcher knife, sits in another corner, all of them scoured clean. There seems to be no food anywhere, and naught but a couple of buckets and baskets, an extra heap of straw, and a few extra skins and pelts.
Shokced at hearing delerium has made it to the Isles Rivyre exclaims, "DELERIUM??? HERE? ON SKYE??? BY TARNA'S HOLY LIGHT THAT IS VERY BAD!!!" Hastily looking around the surrounding area looking at the cracked stone altar, the unconcious druid on the ground, & still thinking about the howling wind & cold shivering feeling when she stepped out of the tree...., Rivyre tries gathering her thoughts & trying to think of words to say.
She breathes in heavily...., "Okay...., first off thank the divine you were here to stop the Worshipers of Kromac from completing their ritual & offering. Part of my home is already under siege by an unknown phenomenon, my original reason for coming back to Skye, & I would hate to see an even worse catastrophe happen."
"Second question, did these shadowy figures, howling wind, & cold shiver occur after you destroyed the crystal becasue this is also very unnatural & unnerving?"
"Third question, did the destruction of the crystal cause that damage?" Rivyre staring & pointing to the stone altar. "If it did, not only have you made the Kromacian worshiopers beleive you have insulted their deity, you have also descreated one of their holy sites by this damage! Once this druid on the ground wakes up & realizes what's been done, he's going to want blood & vengeance. I can also only imagine if the Chief of Clan Lochlan finds about this & we're in deep trouble!"
Pausing to collect her thoughts, "Look I know the majority of our Faith think those who still revere the Old Gods consider them heretics & demon worshipers. As a former practitioner as my parents raised me & my siblings before my willing conversion, I can't condemn those who still seek guidance & give offerings to them. BUT, we're going to need a diplomatic solution & fast if any of you want to make it off this island alive without the Followers of Kromac starting a witch hunt!
Slowing down now getting the major incident out of the way for now, Rivyre continues: "Anyway this is Angus Lochlan, of Clan Lochlan & Steward of The Silver Sword, gesturing to the large burly man. I met him in Giant's Lean on way to Almorra after crossing through from Darryl. We talked & exchanged stories, beleifs, & he gave me a quick sparring session..., of which I failed at miserably. He did stop me from being rash in going to Almorra as the terrible fate has befallen it in search of my family after the century or so i've been gone. He agreed to help me find answers & has been travelling w/ me since then. Traversing the Fairy Roads later we encountered this elf of Eladria, (gesturing to the Neris) Neris Amakiir, Daughter of Rolen traveling to investigate Darryl. I offered to help her w/ their investigation while another elf who had to depart her side is looking into my personal request.
(Asking to Neris hiding behind a tree) "Was the rumor of Delerium arriving on Skye your reason for coming down here?"
Moz the Magnificent
"What a dump." Moz says as he kicks the mattress apart. Picking up one of painted animal skulls and inspecting it. " An elf with a sense of humor? That would be the strangest thing I heard of, If I hadn't just seen an Eladrin dressed as a Flamekeeper. Throw in a barbarian and his cow, makes this a very interesting season of the Vauge indeed." Bored he tosses the animal over his shoulder. Stepping back up to window. " Well it doesn't look like the are going to kill each other, guess we might as well make our introductions. I imagine you can sweet talk that barbarian to give up some milk for the child." Idly tossing some of the spare firewood around the hut, he looks too Alorin. " Why don't you go talk to them, I will be right behind you" he says with a wixked grin as he pokes the fire with a piece of wood"
Alorin
Alorin realizes that Moz is up to something destructive and takes a quick look around the hut to see if anything in here, such as the herbs, might be useful in the longer run (Perception: 13+7=20 in case that applies; access to a Herbalism Kit allows him to identify plants). He pulls out a satchel, and opens it up to reveal a collection of pouches, vials, and tools made for the collection and storing of herbs and other ingredients, as well as a small jornal that Alorin retrieves and begins to consult. Using the journal, he finds several potentially useful herbs from among those hanging in the hut, and collects a few samples of each.
After grabbing anything of value, Alorin bundles up the baby to keep her warm, and steps out of the hut along with El. He looks over the group entering the clearing, and starts by greeting the hulking figure of the barbarian. “Good to see you again, Angus! Pity I'm in no shape for a spar right now. What brings you so far out from Giant's Lean and your watch?” He then quickly adds, "And sorry for the abrupt request, but is there any chance Beef could spare some milk? I have a child here that I just rescued, and no way to feed her."
He then turns to the elf that is trying to hide, and grins at her, “Well, if it isn't little Neris. Been a while, hasn't it? How have you been? Is your father doing alright?”
Next, he turns to the unknown figure of the Flamekeeper, “Well met, Flamekeeper! Rivyre, was it? Unfortunately, you're right. There is likely a target on our backs.”
Finally, he glances at the raven sitting on Neris's shoulder. Something about the creature's posture or expression catches his eye, and he cocks his head, but he is not entirely sure what. (Insight: 5+5=10)
Moz the Magnificent
Whistling a jaunty tune Moz gives Alorin a minute to check the herbs before he start tossing burning logs around the huts interior. Stepping out of the hut he pauses and looks inside with a self satisfied sigh. " So pretty." Turning he skips up to the others. Hearing Alorin's tell Angus how 'he' rescued the child, Moz chimes in " WE rescued the child." Stopping beside Alorin he looks Angus up and down. " By the gods you are big one. Did your mother dally with a orge?"
Looking to the others he gives a grand bow. " Greetings I am Sir Mozzarella Gnomingtonson, the Emerald Knight of Skye" Looking at Rivyre, he cocks his head " Where is the costume party?" Behind him the flames and smoke begin licking out the windows of the hut.
On hearing the familiar voice of Alorin, Valanthe steps out from behind the tree, and pulls down her hood. “Alorin?” she says quietly to herself in disbelief and then runs full tilt towards the half-elf with every intent on wrapping her arms around him and not letting go until he taps out. Until she sees what he’s carrying in his arms and skids to a halt:
“Uh, oh, y-you have a baby now? Congratula…shunns..?” her voice trails off quizzically as if unsure of what one says to a new parent and not without a hint of disappointment. How long has it been since she saw him last? Long enough to have had a child?! Her mind tries to fathom how time passes so differently for non-elves as she stares at the babe. She looks back up to Alorin’s face and gives him a big smile “That’s… neat” she says awkwardly just as a gnome approaches them and makes a joke at Rivyre’s expense.
Giggling, Valanthe steps forward and gives an equally grand bow and formal greeting: “Well met, Sir Knight. I am Val… er… Neris Amakiir of Eladria”. Squatting down to pet El she ponders for a moment before quietly asking “What’s the deal with the Silver Knight? Anything I should be worried about?”
"Ahah! Alorin, it seems the gods have crossed our paths once more!" Angus lets out a hearty laugh as he gives Alorin a heavy pat on the shoulder.
"And to you, 'Sir' Mozzarella" Angus steps and looms over the gnome, making sure his size is seen. "I thought knights knew better than to insult those they just met. Even more so to make comments about one's mother."
Angus then turns his gaze back to Alorin. "I would ask when you keep such strange company, I thought having might and size was required for knighthood."
"Also, why is that cabin on fire?"