"I don't know a lot about it myself. I know that since the civil war ended, Lord Commander Drexel has mounted multiple attempts to retake Drakkenheim, he's sought support of the nobility every time, and honestly they've given it to him as best they could. But even one of our pre-eminent commanders with an organized force hasn't made much leeway in dealing with this cursed stone at its source. I've only heard  the letters my Duchess mother received. All manner of nightmares live in the city, they don't leave the haze that blankets it, and men turn to monsters with too much exposure to the stone." 

Sascha kept her thoughts on Drexel's Defection to herself.. House Von Syndow had been loyal to Mannfred Von Kessel, and Elias' betrayal loomed large to those on her side. She imagined his expeditionary force had been made up largely of Cecilia's supporters. She'd killed some of those men who might have made a difference in Drakkenheim had that stupid, mindless conflict not broken out. But no. The stone was a horror beyond any she knew, and no man who she could bring down could have been Westemar's salvation. 

"I'm sorry, Rivyre. I suppose I was trying to entreat your guidence on a spirtual level, so I sort of defaulted to how i'm used to addressing the clergy." 

Valanthe listens in awe as Rivyre and Sascha talk of the fallen city of Drakkenheim unable to keep quiet "The stone was delerium?!" Valanthe gasps, "From Drakkenheim?!" she interjects, "Lord Commander Drexel of the Hooded Lanterns?!" she cannot help but add - all while listening intently. Captivated, Valanthe listens to the outsiders talk about the fallen city (much more interesting than the Elven scholars who were factual but lacked any passion on the subject).

Valanthe has long admired the Hooded Lanterns from the tales of their heroics in Drakkenheim that occasionally made their way to Eladria: Slaying monsters and keeping the dark at bay so that good folk may sleep well at night. Her own dreams are filled with running away to join their ranks and become a legendary monster slayer. So the Hooded Lanterns seek support from the human nobility to retake the city but failed so far? Maybe it was Elven nobility they needed instead...

But back to the now.

Actually thinking, Valanthe asks "If the delierium could raise the dead we fought, and split the alter and make the Druid go mad, what else could it do? Could it affect the Elf Gates - like - make them work again?"

Moz the Magnificent 

Descending the hill behind the Druid, Moz  plops himself down by the fire. Warming his hands by the fire. "Sooo... we have a bit of a mixed bag of news. Some good, some bad and some to be determined." Looking to Alorin " You want to tell them or can I?" Not waiting for an answer "Alorin here just made a blood pact with Kormac to be the instrument of his revenge, that is the to be determined news. Good news is we can head off the war on Skye that the Flamers started and threatens to bathe the island in an orgy of blood. All we have to do is feed Sir Lorin to Kormac. Bad news ...... well I guess there isn't really any bad news." Looking at the empty bowls " ohhh  there any more of that?"

Rivyre glares & has intense anger not seem from her before..., & she responds w/ anger, "YOU CALL THAT GOOD NEWS??? I should skure you right here!! I know Sir Lorn suspected something of you & i've confirmed it! Whatever creature you are you are hinding behind an illusion! I should kill you for your blasphempous words & your cowardice hidning behind illusions!"
"YOU BETTER HAVE PROOF OF WHAT YOU CLAIM TO SAY, ESECIALLY FOR ALL THAT SIR LORN DID PROTECT THE ISLES OF SKYE..., MINE & NERIS'S HOME!!

Rivyre stands abruptly, walks towards Moz, draws her sword, & aims it him ready to strike in anger!

Moz the Magnificent 

Stifling a yawn " Such righteous indignation, it looks good on you, my dear, very fiery." Giving her a wink. "Go ahead and ask Alorin or Angus." Gesturing to the pair. " But yes I do consider that good news." Standing he casually dusts the snow off his backside. " Because instead of hundreds or thousands dying, only one person needs to die. Now I am not sure if they teach basic math in the church, but too the rest of the world that is a pretty good deal. While your man might have been destroying something dangerous, he either lacked the brainpower or simply didn't care and destroyed the altar to Kormac. I suspect the latter personally, and in doing so he did start a holy war between the two largest clans on Skye." inspecting his fingernails. 

" I know you feel like you have the moral high ground, ohhh  Sir Lorin was doing what is right blah blah. Do you know what the moral high ground gets you in the real world. A great view. Of all the bodies of the innocent men, women and children as they stack up, all because of the stupidity of one man." Crossing his arms he stares intently at her. " And for the record Skye is my home too, I was born here, which is more than can be said for you."

Stepping over to stand by Alorin. " Now because of your precious Sir Lorin my friend, a man whose annoying streak of nobility outshines your Sir Lorin, is bound by blood pact to Kormac, all in an attempt to stop the bloodshed. And only the Gods know what that truly means. So stow your righteous fury and indignation, I didn't start a holy war, I am just trying to end it with as little death as possible."

"Rivyre!" Sascha calls as the Flamekeeper draws her blade. Sascha also stands moving to place a hand on the elf's shoulder. "Attacking the messenger won't do us any favors. I'm not going to harm Sir Lorn either, and this brings me no comfort, but there's no merit to be gained in attacking anyone here. Particularly not if you're right and this is some fey. Any proof ihe shows you could just as easily be another trick, anyway." Sascha herself rounds on Moz. "No harm will come to Sir Lorn without me fighting alongside him. If your Druid wishes to feed the Ravager, then he can take his blood price from me, in combat."  

Moz the Magnificent

Laughing out loud. "My Druid!! That is funny." Laughing out loud again. "I don't care about that dog worshipping hermit."  wiping a tear from his eye. "My Druid, that is funny, and I thought I was the Jester here."  Leaning against Angus's dog sled. "I will start by reminding you I said we should have killed him earlier, but no you all wanted to be all noble." Shrugging his shoulders "Well you reap what you sow." Giving Sascha a toothy grin. " Second you accuse me of being a Fey, and you yet you take the word of an actual FEY! The magic of the Feywild runs through her veins, Eladrin are the favored agents of the Lords of the Fey. Is it because she wears the robes of a Flamekeeper? I can too." Without a word his clothing shimmers and becomes the robes of a Flamekeeper. "Very flattering I must say." inspecting himself.

"As for the blood price, you didn't spit in the face of Kormac so he doesn't care about your blood, so the Druid has no reason to accept your challenge. But if he did, he could easily choose a champion, Angus maybe or perhaps his cousin. Are you prepared to kill them?" Yawning again. "As for Sir Lorin, have you considered asking him, or does the Sacred Flame not believe in free will? If he has half the honor and nobility of Alorin, then he will give himself to Kormac willingly too save the people of Enniskillen. I thought you Flamers were all about sacrifice and martyrdom. Your bloody books certainly like to harp on about it." Standing up from his lean against the sled. "This is the real world, not some imaginary game where everything works out with the roll of a dice. In the real world there are consequences to ones actions and sometimes you can't fix everything with a blade." 

Rivyre responds sternly w/ power & righteousness still in her voice, "My ancestry may come from the Faerie Realms, but I DO NOT & NOR HAVE I EVER SERVED THE LORDS OF THE FEY!" She looks on w/ disgust as Moz dons the illusion of Sacred Flame robes..., insulting the very fiber of what has made her who she is!

Furthering responding w/ unending frustration..., "Do not spout the words of our faith & convictions for which you not know. You insult me & Sir Lorn w/ your lack of understanding & your disgusting parlor tricks. You know nothing of the Silver Order & the knights of it's ranks. Sir Lorn may have his tolerances which I respect & is unusual for Silver Order knight, but if you believe he's going to willingly participate in a what he most likely believes would be satanic ritual you are sadly mistaken! Most knights purposes in the Silver Order are to destroy the people like the druid, warlocks, & other demon worshipers. Tread carefully on your words you little cretin! Even MY tolerances & patience of your insults has its limits!"

Valanthe is shocked by Rivyre's sudden wrath towards Moz and springs up, placing herself between the flamekeeper and the gnome whilst the two exchange fiery words.

“Oh, for all that is green and good, would everyone please stop using fey as a slur? Or have you forgotten it's insulting to me and my people?”

“This beef is not between us…“ Valanthe gestures at everyone standing around the campfire “...but between that Druid and Sir Lorn.” now pointing off in a general 'not here'  direction. "So everybody just needs to take a breath and put their swords away, Rivyre.” Valanthe makes a point to look at Rivyre directly.

“If what you say is true about delerium, all Sir Lorn has done for Skye is trade the evil of that crystal for the evil of war. He is as blinded by his duty as the druid is blinded by his lust for blood. Neither of you need stand by Sir Lorn and pay for his mistakes.” referring to both Rivyre and Sascha.

Now, she turns to address Moz and Alorin “Sir Lorn dying won’t prevent a war - only delay a bigger, bloodier one. If Sir Lorn is sacrificed willingly or not, a whole ******* legion of the Silver Order will descend on Skye and wipe out everyone that isn’t a follower of the flame. And that means my people. So, Moz, your maths is equally as flawed. So please stop poking the dragon on this one.”

“Now, you can all kill each other over who's god is best, but I’m going to get that babe and take her to Eladria where she at least has a chance of safety. It’s a long walk - and I don’t know anything about babies…” Valanthes voice breaks as the tears start “...so I’d appreciate if someone would come with me.” And she turns and trudges back to Lorcan’s cabin.

Moz the Magnificent 

Laughing again " My lack of understanding? If you were not blinded by anger you could see what your knight has started, War. Do you think it will stay isolated between Darryl and Enniskillen? What happens when Kormac's Ravagers wipe the Sacred Flame off the island. How will your Sacred Fame respond? A crusade? How will the other clans respond?" Grinning at her. " As for conviction, I heard you earlier. Without batting an eye you offered to pray to Dian Cheht. I believe your Divine Matriarch would frown on one her Flamekeepers offering prayers to a 'Demon'."

Gesturing to the others. " And what of the others? Are you going to smite them too? Angus he carries the totems of Nuada and Nodens, are you going to smite him for worshipping 'Demons' or his cousin prehaps. And what of Alorin? He is now literally the instrument of Kormac. He is bound to pledge his kills to Kormac both creature and person. Are you going smite him now for feeding a 'Demon'. If the Silver Order decides he must die what will you do then?"

As Valanthe interjects into the argument. Moz claps his hands together " Wise words from one so young. You have the makings of a great leader, my dear. And prehaps you are correct my math could be wrong, I can admit that I could be wrong, I do hope I am." Turning his back on Rivyre he starts to walk away after Valanthe " So strike me down if you wish, I am sure your faith has some self-righteous carve out that allows for stabbing an unarmed man in the back for voicing an opinion that differs from yours and hurting your feelings." Catching up to Valanthe. " You know poking a dragon is quite the sport in the Fey, but we use real ones"

Alorin 

Alorin walks up to Lorcan’s hut, still lost in his own thoughts. “Oh, whatever have I done?”

He half-hears the argument between his friends, new and old, but it’s not until Neris speaks up, almost bursting into tears, that he snaps himself out of it. As she walks away, he begins to follow her, but then pauses, turns around, and addresses the group. “She’s right. It’s about time you guys stopped this nonsense. I didn’t walk into a pact I wasn’t entirely looking forward to just to prevent a war only for you all to start fighting each other instead.”

”Moz is picking a fight, as usual, but you should know better than to indulge your emotions, Flamekeeper! Stop, listen, and think. Or is this what the Flame teaches nowadays? Certainly can’t say that’s been my experience - most flamekeepers I’ve met have had more poise and wisdom. Ha, maybe it’s the Eladrin in you showing!” The grin Alorin gives is almost forced and painful, like he is trying hard to make a joke to break the tension, but is not quite in the mood for it.

”Nobody here has agreed to give the Druid anything. All Angus and I have agreed to do is slay some monsters on the mainland to sate Kromac’s thirst, for a while. And no, before you ask, that does not make me a follower of Kromac, just someone who made a deal with him. For now, at least. Hopefully that deal does its part in staving off war. Indeed, he has agreed not to attempt to kill any of the followers of the flame here on Skye, except he seems to have a vendetta against Sir Lorn, and he claims Kromac demands Sir Lorn make sacrifice to him.”

”Now, I don’t know if Kromac wants that or if it’s just the injured pride of one man. I don’t know if the stone has anything to do with it  But I recommend we tell Sir Lorn about it, and let him do as he will, though I’d probably urge him to leave Skye, and to do so publicly, so as to not cause any further trouble for the faithful of the Flame here on Skye. I believe that’s all Moz meant as well. But something tells me he is just as stubborn as the Druid, given he chose to destroy the stone on the altar.”

”But indeed, the Druid cannot be allowed to force a sacrifice or start a war on any of these followers of the flame. As Neris says, that would just bring down the full force of Elyria on Skye. If you can’t persuade a general to start a war, you must persuade his soldiers not to fight for him. The Druid won’t listen to reason, which means we must talk to the people on this island - the clan folk to make sure they don’t sign up to be his soldiers, the followers of the flame to make sure they don’t start the war themselves, and the innocent elves to prepare them for the storm that is brewing around them.”

”And then, I suppose we must be off to the mainland. To hunt monsters, and to find more about this stone. The Druid still won’t listen, but maybe we can persuade the clan folk that the stone is a corrupting influence. And maybe that’s enough to stave off war. Unless you go crazy and start one instead.” With a pointed look at the group, but Moz (who is starting to walk away) and Rivyre in particular, Alorin turns around and walks off to follow Neris.

In her head (Alorin casts Message), she hears Alorin say “Wait up, Neris!” He jogs to catch up to her, and briefly puts an arm around her shoulder, to show his support. He gives a quick rap on Moz’s head with his knuckles for being so childish and provocative in an already fraught situation. He hears in his head “You just had to pick a fight with the few allies we have, didn’t you? Would it hurt you to pick a nicer tone? Or let others talk first?” He then keeps walking to the hut with them. 

At Valanthe's objection, Sascha immediately takes a step back, giving her an abashed, apologetic look. "I meant no disrespect, nor insult to your people, Neris. I apologize."  she sighs. The idea of the horrors of war touching this place weigh heavily on her. The idea that she might need to murder a member of the clergy also simply didn't sit well with her. "You're asking a man to pay with his life for the destruction of a rock."  Sascha continues. "We didn't kill the druid, I made certain no permanent harm would come to him, as best I could, and yet Sir Lorn doesn't deserve the same? There is no offering short of death that will abate this war?" 


As Valanthe begins to cry, Sascha's own composure breaks, and she simply yells to the sky. A raw vocalization. No words, just frustration.. The soldier is sick to death of war, and noble obligations to a religion she had never been a devout follower of. She had stood by Sir Lorn because she truly believed she was preventing something terrible, but all of this was getting out of hand. She couldn't stand the thought of being party to the man's murder when all he had intended was saving the people of this isle, but fighting alongside him would only assure another terrible, bloody conflict. In that moment the baby became her world. That child deserved better than to be thrust into either of those futures.

"The journey will be faster on horseback, Neris. Solis can bare us both there. Or, we can take her to the mainland, but you're right to put her first." 

Moz the Magificent

Rubbing his forehead " The truth hurts, it brutal and to the point, and doesn't care about someone's feeling. That is why so many don't care to hear it, but it still must be said." Looking Neris. "I am sorry for upsetting you my dear, it was not my intent." Giving her a warm smile. "I do think Eladria is the best place for the baby. Do you think the elves will take her in?"

Looking up at Alorin "And don't worry about my "nefarious designs' for the baby. I know she is no longer in play. Now I just want her to find a good home, I know what it is like to not be wanted by family." Chuckling to himself "Like I told Neris earlier, I suspect my Master set me up for failure. Probably laughing his ass off at me right now.  I imagine he is maneuvering me toward something else."

Alorin

He smiles wryly, and talks to Moz in his mind, “Given what I know of your master, I think that’s exceedingly likely. Especially since he is the one who tipped me off to the existence of the child as well.”

Moz the Magnificent 

Moz stops in his tracks, genuine surpise on his face and momentarily speechless "That sneaky, double dealing, two faced, manipulating..... " shaking his head, growling softly "Well played, well played indeed."

Rivyre pushing herself out of her anger & fury, looks around frantically. That's behavior she thought she had contained under the discipline that was instilled in her from monks & clerics who instructed her. She sheathes her sword, looks down @ her hands, her body shaking uncontrollably, fear, uncertainty, confusion, sadness, & depression all rushing to replace the emotions of anger & fury. 

She runs to the back of the longhouse, falls to her arms & knees & begins to cry uncontrollably. There's nothing she can do to mask her sadness & she feels completely unconsolable. "What have I done?" she says to herself.

Returning to the longhouse in a sort of haze, Angus sits by the fire and stares. Thoughts race through his head but he is unable to piece them together. This recent upset in circumstance has brought a lot to think about. Almost too much to think about. So... he doesn't. He sits, stares, and focuses on the pain from his sacrifice. In a world of power and politics, gods and demons, the one thing that grounds him is simple pain. It isn't until the conversation turns from friendly small talk to accusations and threats that Angus is woken from his haze.
Can't say I didn't expect a fight of some sort. But they are going to wake the baby.

"CAN'T WE ALL be just a little quieter?" Angus rises from the snow-covered grass, his hands turned upwards in an aggressive and annoyed shrug. His fur cloak falling to the wayside as he stands to his full 7-foot frame. What appears to be visible bite marks adorn his left shoulder, blood still seeping down his torso. His hands, dripping with his own blood. Now that it is visible, the shaft of his great axe too, is wet with life. "It seems all of us are halfway across Lake Cygnet in a termite riddled canoe, and the lake itself is dying to get aboard! The last thing any of us need at the moment is biting at each other's throats." (Intimidation: 18) The Ravager has that part handled, if he gets his way. "And the last thing the child inside needs is to be woken from what should be a very needed rest. And much like that child, I think it'd benefit all of us to do the same." Angus visibly shrinks from the full height he was, confusion and exhaustion setting in.
"It'd be at least a week's travel from here to return to Eladia." gesturing towards Valanthe "Without preparation, no-one is making the trek there, or to Enniskillen, especially with the Vague still afoot. Hm... except for maybe Alorin... Don't get yourself killed before we have a chance to sort this out. I can get supplies in the morning for whomever wishes."

"It has been a long day for all of us, longer for some. We could all benefit from a little more compassion amidst the threat of war." Angus shoot an ire-filled glare towards Moz "And maybe let the ones that made the sacrifices inform at our discretion."

"Now, I'm getting some stew."
Angus heads into the longhouse. "The beast sure is hungry this season" Angus greets Lorcan with a chuckle, presenting his wounds. "I can handle these if you have a poultice at the ready. I smelled some of your famous stew earlier, any of that left? Any chance you'd allow our guests to spend the night? Can't exactly stroll into town after this morning." 

Moz the Magnificent 

Stepping up to Lorcan he gives him bow " Good sir, I saw some various herbs and other ingredients drying on your windows. I wonder if I may purchase some off you? I find myself out and in need of some."

(Just looking to get some incense, for summoning my familiar again)

Lorcan stands up as Angus enters. The Druid is here, resting already, deep in meditation seated on a bed of pelts and furs, one of his forearms wrapped with a steaming poultice. His other wounds look nearly closed, thanks to Alorin's magic. "So he is, Cousin," Lorcan says, returning a wry grin at Angus' chuckle. "I've got plenty of both--poultices and stew. Sit down a moment, and I'll fix you up." He dips a few ladles of the hot herbal water into a wooden bucket and hands it to Angus with a wool rag to wash his wounds, then brings over some strips of wool cloth and smears the mashed herbs mixed with bear grease in them. Then he brings him a large bowl of steaming stew.

"Yes, they must all rest here tonight," Lorcan says. "The Druid told me that would be the case. We must wait out the Vague. If it has passed tomorrow, the council will begin. The horse can stay inside here with my cows, if you wish."

As Moz steps up to ask about purchasing herbs, Lorcan nods. "You may... help yourself to what you need."

Alorin

As Moz and Angus negotiate with Lorcan, Alorin checks on the baby where she is sleeping peacefully, unaware of all that is going wrong around her. He settles down on the ground next to the bench she is lying on and El comes over to settle down next to him as well. As he sits there, he is lost in thought, about the pact he has made, about the nightmares of the meteor, about the war that is brewing, and above all, about the nightmare that is the sea that he just agreed to cross. “What have I done”, he mumbles, barely audible and completely incomprehensible. As his thoughts wander over these nightmares of the past, present, and future, repeatedly and in turns, he begins to curl up and shiver, and the mumbles turn into near-whimpers. This time, not even El’s nudges or muzzling break him out of this stupor, and he remains in that state for a period of time, blind and deaf to what is going on around him.