As Anguswaits in prayer, the heavy skins covering the longhouse door nearest him suddenly stir, and then are flung open. A huge man, nearly eight feet tall, his arms like tree trunks rippling muscle under the Druidic symbols tattooed there, steps out. A thick mane of red hair cascades down his back, and a matching red beard, with a grey patch at the chin, curls wildly down the front. Pelts and furs cover his body except for his head and his arms. Wild sky-blue eyes fix on Anguskneeling in the shaft of sunlight, and a wide grin breaks across the man's face.
"Ah, the Steward of the Silver Sword! This is a good omen indeed. I hear that a strange party from another world has materialized on our shores, led by your counsel! Come in, come in! Bring them all!" The enormous man steps to the side, holding the thick skins around the doorway open.
Sascha had been quiet. If she'd talked to anyone, it was Solis. She had a well-founded concern that they were walking into trouble, and if not for them right now, then for her home, and her future. She had paused Solis in his stride, and stared for a moment at the longhouse. This place represented a potential problem, but also a chance to set things right. It was clear to the noblewoman that failure here could be potentially dire. She would heed Angus' words. taking a moment to steel her nerves for whatever comes next. She didn't pray, not as he did and not to the flame. Rather she remembered the horrors of war on Westemaar. The state of things in Drakkenheim. She reminded herself of why she was willing to fight in such a way as to get into this mess, and contemplated the consequences now that she had made that choice. Whatever happened next would be one of the most important things she had done in her life.
Sascha Von Syndowe dismounted her horse. She would lead him, in search of a proper spot to hitch him, and once she'd found something she was satisfied with, she returned, and stop, waiting near to Angus.
When the mountain of a Druid makes his presence known, Stretches, rolling her shoulders, not an aggressive gesture, but one made to prepare herself, psychologically and physically. As Angus is instructed to bring the group in, Sascha moves to fall into step behind him. She wouldn't presume to stride in here as a peacocking, self-important Noble. Here, she must be Sascha the diplomat. And that meant acting, and speaking, in turn.
Rivyre looks up w/ her sad & bewildered demeanor & responds,
"I mean no disrespect Sir Druid..., I don't think it's a good idea if I were to come in. Much as I don't want to see my childhood home succumb on to war, I feel my presence will only further stir anger & hatred. Surely you understand my position...", she says quietly & reserved waiting for a response w/ baited breath.
Looking up to the large burly man, his behavior & personality is drastically different. He's much more welcoming (at least for now), but his stature is definitely intimidating and certainly not a man she wants to tangle with words or physicality in fear of provoking his anger & wrath.
Whistling between his teeth as the huge man exits the longhouse. "By the gods, what do they feed you Northfolk." As the man calls them in." Well at lest he is smiling and not holding a battle axe." Shrugging his shoulders "What the worse that can happen." Looking back at the large man. " But to be safe maybe you should go first Angus." Stepping behind the large man.
The enormous man waves his tree-trunk arm to beckon the group inside the longhouse. "Not a Druid am I, but the Druid requests all of you," he says, a bright spark flashing in his sky-blue eyes, "including the Flamekeeper of Nuada!" He begins a singsong litany. "The Emerald Fool, the Shieldmaiden of Westemar, the Flamekeeper of Nuada, the Princess of Eladria, the Steward of the Silver Sword, and the Wanderer of Kromac. The Druid requests you all by name. Come, come!"
Leaning over to Alorin and Valanthe. "Emerald Fool? Wanderer of Kormac? Princess of Eladria?"Giving Valanthe a cocked eyebrow. "Those sound like Prophecy titles." His face lights up with glee. " Oooohhh do you think we are prophesied? Wouldn't that be fun." Clapping his hands together in glee. " We need a group name."Rubbing his chin, then suddenly snapping his fingers. "Moz and the Magnificents."Waving his hands in front of him like he is imagining the name in lights. " Do you love it!"
”Ha, keep thinking! Besides, I don’t feel particularly magnificent right about now,” Alorin responds. He checks his gear to make sure everything was in place, and turns to watch the suspiciously jovial newcomer. "Is this welcome hiding something more brutal or sinister, or is it well-intentioned”, he wonders. (Insight: 15+5=20) Keeping a watchful eye on his surroundings, Alorin turns to Angus and waits for him to take the lead. “This is his turf more than any of ours, after all,” he reasons.
It is at this point that something the newcomer said strikes Alorin as odd. “The princess of Eladria?” The only elven women here were the Flamekeeper (“of Nuada! Ha, clever joke!”) … and Neris. Alorin turns to his old friend and focuses on her with a confused gaze, then shakes his head and looks away. “Her secrets are hers to keep. Not like I don’t have my own.”
As he responds, she looks up at him & try's to determine if there are any hidden truth's or deceptions in his vocal inflections. (Insight: 19+5=24) Rivyre is a bit taken back by this burly man's upbeat attitude..., & more so that the Druid specifically requested everyone into the longhouse. Surely this some kind of elaborate ruse to lure us into a false sense of security. Rivyre doesn't like this one bit!
(Anyone w/ a passive perception of 10 can see her eyes looking up towards her head, moving side to side, & blinking at irregular intervals like she's deep in analytical thought). She thinks to herself, 'Flamekeeper of Nuada?' She's sure that was meant to be an insult..., but as she thinks there is a semblance of similarity. Nuada is the Old God of Justice & War. One of the Sacred Flame tenants: The Torch has an aspect that relates to Nuada, 'The duty of all faithful to uphold the cause of justice.' Theoretically, 'Flamekeeper of Nuada' could very well construed & interpreted as a compliment.
"Hmmm..., 'Flamekeeper of Nuada'...," Rivyre replies lowly w/ a subtle smirk & continues, "Interesting religious parallel you drew, & thank you." Choosing to take the name as a compliment instead of of insult, she's curious if she'll get a response from him. She stands up with the infant in her arms & prepares to follow everyone inside.
"Shieldmaiden of Westemar." It wasn't incorrect. Even if it wasn't the cultural term that she'd have chosen for herelf. She was a warrior, she was a defender of her people, at least in her own mind. It disregaded her noble station but she was used to that at this point, living among the soldiers and common folk. She strode into the room, with a glance to her compaions. Was everyone ready? Was anyone planning naything? She wasn't certain. She had to believe, however, that this group was interested in avoiding disaster where they could. - Not that she could be sure about them all. Her eyes lingered on Moz.
"Thank you for receiving us." Sascha says to the enormous Druid. offering a respecful nod, sh ewould reserve actual bowing for the clan head, and even then only if instructed, or following Angus' lead.
As the group prepared to enter the longhouse, Alorin moves to take the baby from Rivyre. “She’s the fastest of us, if it comes to that, and she will keep her safe,” he tells Rivyre in her mind, gesturing towards El. He then securely fastens the infant onto El’s back. As he goes about this process, Moz hears Alorin in the back of his head, “This is a powder keg of religious fanatics we're walking into, and this jovial person here looks to be the biggest fanatic of them all. Keep the insults to a minimum, would you?”
Rivyre replies w/ a whisper, "Very well, I've seen her run. I know she'll be fine. Are you okay though? You look as uncomfortable & suspicious as I do walking into this uncertainty."
Telepathically she calls to Syletha, "Well it looks like we're all going inside. Come down sweetie, hop to my shoulders." Syletha glides down & lands gracefully on her back, climbs up, & stretches out across Rivyre's shoulders wrapping herself around like a scarf head down purring.
" Have you and Angus been talking to my cat?"Squinting up at Alorin and then down at Cat-Sith. " You all seem to think I am somekind of troublemaker. Don't forget."Gesturing to the large man. " We are Prophesied." Wiggling his fingers mysteriously.
Angusfinishes his prayer, playing the totems back around his neck.
"Chieftain! I am not surprised that you were expecting us. The Druid had set out far earlier that us. How much of the discussions have we missed?" Angusrises to greet the Chieftainand then turns to the group. "This isChieftain Martyn Mac Lochlann,head of Clan Lochlann."
"Heh heh, yeah, about that.." Valanthe says nervously in response to those prophetic titles to Moz and Alorin as they prepare to enter the longhouse. Secretly, she's internally berating herself for forgetting to tell Alorin again how she is, in fact, Princess Valanthe, daughter of Queen Genevieve Autumnfall and heir to the throne of Eladria even though they had all that time on the journey here. She was amazed at how easily she forgets it sometimes, but, then she did once forget that she'd moved into the city and walked back to her father's cabin by accident after running errands for the scholars and missed the state visit from some foreign dignitary from, y'know, somewhere important...
"Oh, hello", she responds automatically as Angus introduces the Chieftan.
Chieftain Martyn Mac Lochlann smiles warmly at Angus, the fresh tinge of excitement seeming to leave him for just a moment in the more grounded warmth of a familiar bond. An enormous hand claps companionably on Angus' nearly-but-not-as-enormous shoulder. "You have missed little discussion yet. For we have been beseeching the gods for their favor since early this morning when our Druid summoned us. Come in, all of you, join us." His hand still on Angus' shoulder in a warm embrace like a father to a son, Chief Martyn nods a return greeting to Valantheand anyone else who has greeted him, before he pushes aside the heavy pelt covering the door and leads the way back into the longhouse.
A heavy cloud of sweet-smelling smoke laced with the acrid scent of burned hair and blood hits their faces as they enter the longhouse, stinging their eyes so that they cannot see in the darkness for a moment. The dim orange glow of a fire slowly pierces through the smoke as their eyes adjust from the bright cold day outside, and they can see several large men, dressed in furs, sitting in a circle around the flickering fire. Facing them on the opposite side of the fire, is the Druid of Kromac, wrapped in his heavy bear pelt, and now with the skull of a large deer on his head, two enormous antlers as of an ancient buck elk sprouting from either side of it to tower over his already imposing figure. Fresh blood paints his face in dramatic and alarming symbols and lines.
"Praised be Kromac!" he says, his voice deep and gravelly, and then booming in sudden volume. "So you have come. Welcome. We gather here to discern the will of the gods. Come forward. Join the circle."
Outside, El pauses just before the door. Wary of her vulnerable charge sleeping securely swaddled and strapped to her back, she hangs back, bracing her paws on the threshold of the longhouse door, reluctant to enter, her plumed tail ducking low between her legs as her sensitive nose tastes the scented smoke.
As the party enters the longhouse Mozwatches Alorin strap the babe to El. He looks over to Cat-Sithand focusing his thoughts, " Stay with the child keep her safe."
The cat turns his head menacingly "I am no babysitter green one."His thoughts answer back.
Moz sighs, he didn't want have to do it .. but, mentally reaching into the pact that bounds them. Moz pulls on the thread of command, " You will do as you are told Cat-Sith!" His thoughts ring in the familiar's mind.
Cat-Sithwinces like he been stung. Then giving Moz a long cold stare " I suppose you have enough protection in there and all this child has is this.... canine to guard her." Giving Elan imperious look " My talents are needed here."Taking a position to the side watching El, his tail swishing side to side
" Magnanimous of you " he thinks back
Entering the longhouse Moz gives a low whistle, "Not creepy at all" he whispers to the others as he takes a seat in the circle. Looking around the circle at the other figures, he gives a friendly smile and wave. "Hi, am the Emerald Fool, the prophesied one. Nice to meet ya all."
"Honored Chieftain Mac Lochlann. I offer my thanks for your willingness to host us here today, and grant us audience." Sascha say, adopting her most respectful tone, her back straight. as she adopted her best Westemarian noble etiquette. She remembered practicing this, greeting her mother formally, and the minor nobles she would entertain. She approached the man, but maintained a respectful distance, before she gave a low bow, It took her a moment to straighten herself up."I am Sascha, of the house Von Syndow. I am the daughter of the Duchess Ursula Von Syndow, the ruler of the Achtungwald Province of Westemar. It has been my privilege to experience the wondrous lands of your Clan." In this formal introduction, Sascha's aim was two-fold. First, she sought to establish that she, had no desire to act against the authority of the Chieftain. She was here fully intending peace. Second, she hoped to establish that she was a person of consequence, deserving of respect, her words worthy of credence. She was, after all, heiress to one of the most powerful families in Westemar.
Sascha waited - Once she was acknowledged, or it became clear she would not be, she would move to join the Druid's circle. She was tense, of course. She doubted that this man was going to show much restraint, or compassion in whatever dealing they were about to commence. Sasha, for a moment, regretting sparing him. She hoped, still, that the chieftain would understand the intent of that decision. She doubted the servant of Kromac would care, however.
In a pleasant somber tone she responds to Chief Lochlaan, "A pleasure & honor to meet you Chief Lochlaan. I am Rivyre Lightdove, Daughter of Velalyn & Tavon, & Flamekeeper of the Temple of Altbruke on Westemar. This furry freind is my trusty companion, Syletha. I hope we can come to a mutually benefical compromise for all the peoples of Skye, to avoid war, & find a bridge bewteen our respective beliefs." Continuing, "Angus here has been quite lovely company since I returned home helping me w/ personal task & is quite the warrior. You should be quite proud w/ how hard he trains!
She bows her head in respect as she walks past & whispers a quick prayer to herself, "Flame, I ask for your wisdom & guidance as I navigate this difficult situation. Show me the right path & the strength to follow it."(Guidance: 1). She takes a seat across the from the Druid of Kromac eyeing him closely, but not suspiciously should he attempt any funny business. (Relying on her Passive Perception to watch him: 15) Should she need to talk & make an argument to avoid war she'll speak. (Holding a Persuasion check for Guidance).
Chief Mac Lochlann raises one large arm in salute to Sascha as she formally greets him, and nods to her in return of her greeting. He nods to Rivyre as well. "On behalf of the will of the gods, welcome." While his greeting seems sincere, a trace of uncertainty underlies his voice.
As the party slowly trickles in to join the circle, the Druid nods to each one as they sit down. All eyes fix on Rivyre as she invokes her prayer--a stony silence reigning in the smoky incense, their eyes unreadable. But eventually all eyes turn from her and back to the Druid, who is clearly holding sway over this meeting. He meets the eyes of each of the party, before his gaze comes to rest on Moz. "Tell me about this prophecy,"he says.
Moz freezes for a moment, not being used to being called on his BS, but only for a moment. "Errrrrr... Why the Prophecy of Skye."Standing to his feet and taking a dramatic pose, his voice low and quiet. " Among the courts of the Fey Lords, it was foretold long ago that the Isle of Skye would be threatened. A corrupting evil would creep into the isle. Turning Old against New. War and Fire would threaten to consume the Emerald Isle." His tone and voice changes to excitement and hope. "But a group of heroes would raise to fight this evil. Led by the dashing and daring Emerald Fool, the hero of heros! "Giving Alorin and Neris a wink. "Under the ladership, wisdom and guidance of the Emerald Fool, the Heroes would defeat the corrupting shadow and bring peace to the Isle. And there would be peace, prosperity and...... puppies for all." Finishing with a dramatic flourish. "Or lest that is how I heard the prophecy..... maybe you heard a different version or interpretation. A lot can of the subtleties can be lost in translation."
(Use Lucky to give advantage on roll. Performance: 11+5=16. For the BS.)
As Angus waits in prayer, the heavy skins covering the longhouse door nearest him suddenly stir, and then are flung open. A huge man, nearly eight feet tall, his arms like tree trunks rippling muscle under the Druidic symbols tattooed there, steps out. A thick mane of red hair cascades down his back, and a matching red beard, with a grey patch at the chin, curls wildly down the front. Pelts and furs cover his body except for his head and his arms. Wild sky-blue eyes fix on Angus kneeling in the shaft of sunlight, and a wide grin breaks across the man's face.
"Ah, the Steward of the Silver Sword! This is a good omen indeed. I hear that a strange party from another world has materialized on our shores, led by your counsel! Come in, come in! Bring them all!" The enormous man steps to the side, holding the thick skins around the doorway open.
Sascha had been quiet. If she'd talked to anyone, it was Solis. She had a well-founded concern that they were walking into trouble, and if not for them right now, then for her home, and her future. She had paused Solis in his stride, and stared for a moment at the longhouse. This place represented a potential problem, but also a chance to set things right. It was clear to the noblewoman that failure here could be potentially dire. She would heed Angus' words. taking a moment to steel her nerves for whatever comes next. She didn't pray, not as he did and not to the flame. Rather she remembered the horrors of war on Westemaar. The state of things in Drakkenheim. She reminded herself of why she was willing to fight in such a way as to get into this mess, and contemplated the consequences now that she had made that choice. Whatever happened next would be one of the most important things she had done in her life.
Sascha Von Syndowe dismounted her horse. She would lead him, in search of a proper spot to hitch him, and once she'd found something she was satisfied with, she returned, and stop, waiting near to Angus.
When the mountain of a Druid makes his presence known, Stretches, rolling her shoulders, not an aggressive gesture, but one made to prepare herself, psychologically and physically. As Angus is instructed to bring the group in, Sascha moves to fall into step behind him. She wouldn't presume to stride in here as a peacocking, self-important Noble. Here, she must be Sascha the diplomat. And that meant acting, and speaking, in turn.
Rivyre looks up w/ her sad & bewildered demeanor & responds,
"I mean no disrespect Sir Druid..., I don't think it's a good idea if I were to come in. Much as I don't want to see my childhood home succumb on to war, I feel my presence will only further stir anger & hatred. Surely you understand my position...", she says quietly & reserved waiting for a response w/ baited breath.
Looking up to the large burly man, his behavior & personality is drastically different. He's much more welcoming (at least for now), but his stature is definitely intimidating and certainly not a man she wants to tangle with words or physicality in fear of provoking his anger & wrath.
Moz the Magnificent
Whistling between his teeth as the huge man exits the longhouse. "By the gods, what do they feed you Northfolk." As the man calls them in. " Well at lest he is smiling and not holding a battle axe." Shrugging his shoulders "What the worse that can happen." Looking back at the large man. " But to be safe maybe you should go first Angus." Stepping behind the large man.
The enormous man waves his tree-trunk arm to beckon the group inside the longhouse. "Not a Druid am I, but the Druid requests all of you," he says, a bright spark flashing in his sky-blue eyes, "including the Flamekeeper of Nuada!" He begins a singsong litany. "The Emerald Fool, the Shieldmaiden of Westemar, the Flamekeeper of Nuada, the Princess of Eladria, the Steward of the Silver Sword, and the Wanderer of Kromac. The Druid requests you all by name. Come, come!"
Moz the Magnificent
Leaning over to Alorin and Valanthe. "Emerald Fool? Wanderer of Kormac? Princess of Eladria?" Giving Valanthe a cocked eyebrow. "Those sound like Prophecy titles." His face lights up with glee. " Oooohhh do you think we are prophesied? Wouldn't that be fun." Clapping his hands together in glee. " We need a group name." Rubbing his chin, then suddenly snapping his fingers. "Moz and the Magnificents." Waving his hands in front of him like he is imagining the name in lights. " Do you love it!"
Alorin
”Ha, keep thinking! Besides, I don’t feel particularly magnificent right about now,” Alorin responds. He checks his gear to make sure everything was in place, and turns to watch the suspiciously jovial newcomer. "Is this welcome hiding something more brutal or sinister, or is it well-intentioned”, he wonders. (Insight: 15+5=20) Keeping a watchful eye on his surroundings, Alorin turns to Angus and waits for him to take the lead. “This is his turf more than any of ours, after all,” he reasons.
It is at this point that something the newcomer said strikes Alorin as odd. “The princess of Eladria?” The only elven women here were the Flamekeeper (“of Nuada! Ha, clever joke!”) … and Neris. Alorin turns to his old friend and focuses on her with a confused gaze, then shakes his head and looks away. “Her secrets are hers to keep. Not like I don’t have my own.”
As he responds, she looks up at him & try's to determine if there are any hidden truth's or deceptions in his vocal inflections. (Insight: 19+5=24) Rivyre is a bit taken back by this burly man's upbeat attitude..., & more so that the Druid specifically requested everyone into the longhouse. Surely this some kind of elaborate ruse to lure us into a false sense of security. Rivyre doesn't like this one bit!
(Anyone w/ a passive perception of 10 can see her eyes looking up towards her head, moving side to side, & blinking at irregular intervals like she's deep in analytical thought).
She thinks to herself, 'Flamekeeper of Nuada?' She's sure that was meant to be an insult..., but as she thinks there is a semblance of similarity. Nuada is the Old God of Justice & War. One of the Sacred Flame tenants: The Torch has an aspect that relates to Nuada, 'The duty of all faithful to uphold the cause of justice.' Theoretically, 'Flamekeeper of Nuada' could very well construed & interpreted as a compliment.
"Hmmm..., 'Flamekeeper of Nuada'...," Rivyre replies lowly w/ a subtle smirk & continues, "Interesting religious parallel you drew, & thank you." Choosing to take the name as a compliment instead of of insult, she's curious if she'll get a response from him. She stands up with the infant in her arms & prepares to follow everyone inside.
"Shieldmaiden of Westemar." It wasn't incorrect. Even if it wasn't the cultural term that she'd have chosen for herelf. She was a warrior, she was a defender of her people, at least in her own mind. It disregaded her noble station but she was used to that at this point, living among the soldiers and common folk. She strode into the room, with a glance to her compaions. Was everyone ready? Was anyone planning naything? She wasn't certain. She had to believe, however, that this group was interested in avoiding disaster where they could. - Not that she could be sure about them all. Her eyes lingered on Moz.
"Thank you for receiving us." Sascha says to the enormous Druid. offering a respecful nod, sh ewould reserve actual bowing for the clan head, and even then only if instructed, or following Angus' lead.
Alorin
As the group prepared to enter the longhouse, Alorin moves to take the baby from Rivyre. “She’s the fastest of us, if it comes to that, and she will keep her safe,” he tells Rivyre in her mind, gesturing towards El. He then securely fastens the infant onto El’s back. As he goes about this process, Moz hears Alorin in the back of his head, “This is a powder keg of religious fanatics we're walking into, and this jovial person here looks to be the biggest fanatic of them all. Keep the insults to a minimum, would you?”
Rivyre replies w/ a whisper, "Very well, I've seen her run. I know she'll be fine. Are you okay though? You look as uncomfortable & suspicious as I do walking into this uncertainty."
Telepathically she calls to Syletha, "Well it looks like we're all going inside. Come down sweetie, hop to my shoulders." Syletha glides down & lands gracefully on her back, climbs up, & stretches out across Rivyre's shoulders wrapping herself around like a scarf head down purring.
Moz the Magnificent
" Have you and Angus been talking to my cat?" Squinting up at Alorin and then down at Cat-Sith. " You all seem to think I am somekind of troublemaker. Don't forget." Gesturing to the large man. " We are Prophesied." Wiggling his fingers mysteriously.
Angus finishes his prayer, playing the totems back around his neck.
"Chieftain! I am not surprised that you were expecting us. The Druid had set out far earlier that us. How much of the discussions have we missed?" Angus rises to greet the Chieftain and then turns to the group. "This is Chieftain Martyn Mac Lochlann, head of Clan Lochlann."
"Heh heh, yeah, about that.." Valanthe says nervously in response to those prophetic titles to Moz and Alorin as they prepare to enter the longhouse. Secretly, she's internally berating herself for forgetting to tell Alorin again how she is, in fact, Princess Valanthe, daughter of Queen Genevieve Autumnfall and heir to the throne of Eladria even though they had all that time on the journey here. She was amazed at how easily she forgets it sometimes, but, then she did once forget that she'd moved into the city and walked back to her father's cabin by accident after running errands for the scholars and missed the state visit from some foreign dignitary from, y'know, somewhere important...
"Oh, hello", she responds automatically as Angus introduces the Chieftan.
Chieftain Martyn Mac Lochlann smiles warmly at Angus, the fresh tinge of excitement seeming to leave him for just a moment in the more grounded warmth of a familiar bond. An enormous hand claps companionably on Angus' nearly-but-not-as-enormous shoulder. "You have missed little discussion yet. For we have been beseeching the gods for their favor since early this morning when our Druid summoned us. Come in, all of you, join us." His hand still on Angus' shoulder in a warm embrace like a father to a son, Chief Martyn nods a return greeting to Valanthe and anyone else who has greeted him, before he pushes aside the heavy pelt covering the door and leads the way back into the longhouse.
A heavy cloud of sweet-smelling smoke laced with the acrid scent of burned hair and blood hits their faces as they enter the longhouse, stinging their eyes so that they cannot see in the darkness for a moment. The dim orange glow of a fire slowly pierces through the smoke as their eyes adjust from the bright cold day outside, and they can see several large men, dressed in furs, sitting in a circle around the flickering fire. Facing them on the opposite side of the fire, is the Druid of Kromac, wrapped in his heavy bear pelt, and now with the skull of a large deer on his head, two enormous antlers as of an ancient buck elk sprouting from either side of it to tower over his already imposing figure. Fresh blood paints his face in dramatic and alarming symbols and lines.
"Praised be Kromac!" he says, his voice deep and gravelly, and then booming in sudden volume. "So you have come. Welcome. We gather here to discern the will of the gods. Come forward. Join the circle."
Outside, El pauses just before the door. Wary of her vulnerable charge sleeping securely swaddled and strapped to her back, she hangs back, bracing her paws on the threshold of the longhouse door, reluctant to enter, her plumed tail ducking low between her legs as her sensitive nose tastes the scented smoke.
Moz the Magnificent
As the party enters the longhouse Moz watches Alorin strap the babe to El. He looks over to Cat-Sith and focusing his thoughts, " Stay with the child keep her safe."
The cat turns his head menacingly "I am no babysitter green one." His thoughts answer back.
Moz sighs, he didn't want have to do it .. but, mentally reaching into the pact that bounds them. Moz pulls on the thread of command, " You will do as you are told Cat-Sith!" His thoughts ring in the familiar's mind.
Cat-Sith winces like he been stung. Then giving Moz a long cold stare " I suppose you have enough protection in there and all this child has is this.... canine to guard her." Giving El an imperious look " My talents are needed here." Taking a position to the side watching El, his tail swishing side to side
" Magnanimous of you " he thinks back
Entering the longhouse Moz gives a low whistle, "Not creepy at all" he whispers to the others as he takes a seat in the circle. Looking around the circle at the other figures, he gives a friendly smile and wave. "Hi, am the Emerald Fool, the prophesied one. Nice to meet ya all."
"Honored Chieftain Mac Lochlann. I offer my thanks for your willingness to host us here today, and grant us audience." Sascha say, adopting her most respectful tone, her back straight. as she adopted her best Westemarian noble etiquette. She remembered practicing this, greeting her mother formally, and the minor nobles she would entertain. She approached the man, but maintained a respectful distance, before she gave a low bow, It took her a moment to straighten herself up. "I am Sascha, of the house Von Syndow. I am the daughter of the Duchess Ursula Von Syndow, the ruler of the Achtungwald Province of Westemar. It has been my privilege to experience the wondrous lands of your Clan." In this formal introduction, Sascha's aim was two-fold. First, she sought to establish that she, had no desire to act against the authority of the Chieftain. She was here fully intending peace. Second, she hoped to establish that she was a person of consequence, deserving of respect, her words worthy of credence. She was, after all, heiress to one of the most powerful families in Westemar.
Sascha waited - Once she was acknowledged, or it became clear she would not be, she would move to join the Druid's circle. She was tense, of course. She doubted that this man was going to show much restraint, or compassion in whatever dealing they were about to commence. Sasha, for a moment, regretting sparing him. She hoped, still, that the chieftain would understand the intent of that decision. She doubted the servant of Kromac would care, however.
In a pleasant somber tone she responds to Chief Lochlaan, "A pleasure & honor to meet you Chief Lochlaan. I am Rivyre Lightdove, Daughter of Velalyn & Tavon, & Flamekeeper of the Temple of Altbruke on Westemar. This furry freind is my trusty companion, Syletha. I hope we can come to a mutually benefical compromise for all the peoples of Skye, to avoid war, & find a bridge bewteen our respective beliefs."
Continuing, "Angus here has been quite lovely company since I returned home helping me w/ personal task & is quite the warrior. You should be quite proud w/ how hard he trains!
She bows her head in respect as she walks past & whispers a quick prayer to herself, "Flame, I ask for your wisdom & guidance as I navigate this difficult situation. Show me the right path & the strength to follow it." (Guidance: 1). She takes a seat across the from the Druid of Kromac eyeing him closely, but not suspiciously should he attempt any funny business. (Relying on her Passive Perception to watch him: 15) Should she need to talk & make an argument to avoid war she'll speak. (Holding a Persuasion check for Guidance).
Chief Mac Lochlann raises one large arm in salute to Sascha as she formally greets him, and nods to her in return of her greeting. He nods to Rivyre as well. "On behalf of the will of the gods, welcome." While his greeting seems sincere, a trace of uncertainty underlies his voice.
As the party slowly trickles in to join the circle, the Druid nods to each one as they sit down. All eyes fix on Rivyre as she invokes her prayer--a stony silence reigning in the smoky incense, their eyes unreadable. But eventually all eyes turn from her and back to the Druid, who is clearly holding sway over this meeting. He meets the eyes of each of the party, before his gaze comes to rest on Moz. "Tell me about this prophecy," he says.
Moz the Magnificent
Moz freezes for a moment, not being used to being called on his BS, but only for a moment. "Errrrrr... Why the Prophecy of Skye." Standing to his feet and taking a dramatic pose, his voice low and quiet. " Among the courts of the Fey Lords, it was foretold long ago that the Isle of Skye would be threatened. A corrupting evil would creep into the isle. Turning Old against New. War and Fire would threaten to consume the Emerald Isle." His tone and voice changes to excitement and hope. "But a group of heroes would raise to fight this evil. Led by the dashing and daring Emerald Fool, the hero of heros! " Giving Alorin and Neris a wink. "Under the ladership, wisdom and guidance of the Emerald Fool, the Heroes would defeat the corrupting shadow and bring peace to the Isle. And there would be peace, prosperity and...... puppies for all." Finishing with a dramatic flourish. "Or lest that is how I heard the prophecy..... maybe you heard a different version or interpretation. A lot can of the subtleties can be lost in translation."
(Use Lucky to give advantage on roll. Performance: 11+5=16. For the BS.)