The hooves of the horses make a soft, pounding rhythm on the road, paved with a layer of last year's dead leaves.

You are passenger aboard a public transit coach. You embarked as the sun was setting, transferring at a way station in Kalaine. There was little to do but sleep to pass the time, after a long day of traveling through Talaveroth.

The two full-blooded elves wake first, their four hours of trance all the rest they need.  One is dressed in rich finery, and his features betray his High Elven ancestry. The other is also apparently not native to the Westwoods. His mannerisms, coloring and clothes, and the wild glint in his eye identify him as a visitor from the Fey realms.

Still sleeping are four other passengers. A raven-haired half-elf woman leans against the window, her fingers twitching nervously as she dreams. Across from her, a middle-aged gnome dozes, wrapped in a brown cloak over a strange khaki suit with many buttoned pockets.  She wears a wide-brimmed brown hat with one side of the brim pinned up, and her heavy, military-style boots rest on a large trunk with air holes cut into it. A man with elven blood--though perhaps not much of it--cradles a fiddle case in his arms as his drooping head bobs with the bouncing of the coach. Sprawled in one corner snoring loudly is a pure-blooded human--rather an exotic race in these parts.

The coach comes to a sudden stop.  The coachman can be heard speaking to somebody, and on each side of the coach, a suspicious border guard peers in, taking stock of the passengers.  The coach moves on as a ray of red light beams from over the Nar Barâk Mountains. You have entered the kingdom of Lomalos, and the sun is rising over a beautiful, early Spring day.

"You know," Mindartis looks out the window and watches the scenery, his face trapped in a permanant scowl. "I didn't know how much I'd miss the Feywilds when I left them. These realms are just so... stagnant,"

The high elven man takes a look at those traveling with him again, clearly uncomfortable. Dressed in fine clothes of white and yellow that cover almost all of his skin, some simple silver jewelry adorned on him. His brown hair is neatly brushed and washed, his skin fair and clean, his eyes green and clear as the skinny elf replies to the weird looking elf, "I've never been to the Feywild." As the obviously noble elf speaks it is clear he is choosing his words carefully, not quite sure what to make of the other awake individual as his face is one of obvious discomfort.  

At the words the raven-haired half-elf comes awake, sitting up and glancing around.  She has hazel eyes and coppery skin, belying her wood-elf heritage.  Her hands, reflexively, touches the two short swords at her sides, then slip away when she see she is in the coach.  Looking out a window she spots the familiar land passing by and knows she has entered her mother's land once again.  It was far too short of a trip away, with her father having sent that message instead of being able to meet her as usual.  Sitting up she runs fingers through her black hair, getting out a few tangles as she takes in the other passengers.  It takes her only a moment to recognize the gnome, of course, and she gives a sigh.  At least she was not in any real trouble back home, or this would have been an uncomfortable rest of the journey.

Mindaris sits back and his scowl slowly turns to a smile, "Well, the trees and fields are blooming, obviously. But they're is just something about it that makes it feel less, stagnant." He wears a tunic without sleeves, his whip sitting on his left hip as he sits up to readjust the great sword, and the large tattoo on his right arm becomes more obvious. A large sun on his shoulder with sunrays exploding off of it and trailing down his arm to his hand. "Spring was always my sisters favorite time of year. Granted, she said that about every season. But I embraced the fury of summer a long time ago."

The short and slender half-elf wakes with the movement and voices. He moves to unwrap his fiddle, but seeing people still asleep he thinks better of it, though his fingers twitch. He looks kind of plain - as you all saw, probably less than half elf - but he has a friendly smile. When the moment presents itself, he says quietly Hello, hello. Galanodel Tosh, at your services, each and all. Are we anywhere yet?

"We are in Lomalos now."  The black-haired half-elf says with another nod to the window.  "My name is Raven." She says giving the other half-elf a friendly smile.  "What brings you to this coach and along this road?"

As more people start to rise from their sleep the high elf decides to make sure he is the most presentable to them, sitting up straight, tall, and proud he quietly observes as the other talk. A polite smile on his face as to not offend anyone. However, every once in a while his eyes to wander to the still sleeping human, curious as he can't recall ever being this close to one before, and of course the ever present question on his mind of what these folks are doing in Lomalos. 

Thank you sister. Why? Well, it is the other way away from home, and I understand there is a chance one could be of use in Lomalos. Not sure if I had much of a plan beyond that.

"Well there is certainly a good deal to do here."  Raven says with a shrug.  "Are you going to the Free City, or somewhere else?"

At the bumpy stop, Elwin's snoring caught, and he jolted awake. Blinking wearily, fair-skinned arms with bold blue tattoos still wrapped tightly around his backpack and gear, he yawned before scratching absently at his dark brown hair and looking around.

Ah, right. He was traveling with this... assortment. He began to rub the sleep out of his blue eyes as he covertly took stock of the other passengers. Quite a number of elves. Not that he had anything against elves specifically, but.... his hand dropped, and he cast a slow, deliberate glance at the obvious high elf before sighing and rolling his eyes. Clear nobility, this one. He was surprised the coach wasn't already reeking of flowers and milk and too-strong perfumes. Still, he didn't bother to conceal the smirk that came to his lips as he relished in the fact that at least the man was stuck traveling with the riff-raff. Maybe some common sense might rub off on him, at least enough that he wouldn't act like a full-blown snob.

He listened quietly as some of the other occupants talked, giving them the courtesy of appearing to be looking out toward the road. Had the odd-looking elf mentioned the Feywild? Elwin sat up a bit at that... he had only heard of the Feywild, but knowing what it was made him take notice. He avoided staring, but tried to catch a glimpse or two to size up the elf. He seemed odd, but not... like that. He was pretty sure this wasn't some powerful entity like his patron. The young warlock scoffed at his own thought. Like someone with real power--real, world-shaking magic--would bother traveling like this.

Lomalos. That's where they currently were, according to the conversation the two half-elves--probably?--were having. This might be a good place to stop, depending. Elwin glanced over at the gnome, sizing her up, then once more around the carriage. A few of the passengers looked like they might be adventurers too. Perhaps a companion or two could be found among them?

He turned back to continue looking out the coach. Feeling movement, he discretely slid a finger under his white leather armor, caressing the tiny mouse nestled in a pocket next to his body. Pim was waking, it seemed. Him wanting to be active was usually a good sign. Perhaps this would be the place their adventures would start after all?

"Mindartis," Mindartis replies. "Perhaps summer will be better in this realm."

Quentin very quickly shifts his eyes as the human awakes, sure he was caught by the smirk that appeared on his face. Needing to distract them so as to not be called out he decides to answer Mindarti's question. "Summer is very pleasant here. Nice chilled wine, a cool summer breeze, a book on the veranda. Nothing really beats it. Much better than the chill of winter when you can hardly take a step outside." 

"With summer brings fury," Mindarti replies, "fury and stubborn pride. Yes, summer is a great season for emotions. I never understood how my sister could stand to change so much."

 Eventually, the gnome opens her eyes, yawns, stretches, and looks out the window.

She starts rummaging in her pockets one by one, removing the contents and putting them back.  She pulls out a whistle, a large red handkerchief, a rubber duck, and finally a leather bag, which she opens.  From the sack she takes a few dried locusts, berries and nuts, and pokes them through the air holes of the chest.  You see a large, pink nose snuffle at the hole for a moment, then you hear the sound of crunching from within.

The gnome turns to give each of you a long, searching look. (Her gaze seems to linger just a little longer on the black-haired half-elf woman.) "Good morning," she says politely, opening one more pocket, removing a golden, shield-shaped badge, and pinning it to her cloak.  "I am Kibble Zando Quust of the Queens Guard. So, who are you fine folks, and what brings you to Lomalos today?  Not in any official capacity, of course. Only asking friendly-like."

All awake then? Del unwraps his fiddle and holds it in a left-handed plucking position, being careful not to jostle anyone in this crowded space. His fingers move on the strings even when he's not making any music. Looking at Mindartis, noticing muscles and gear with a grin: You've mentioned fury and such a couple times already, Brother Mindartis. Am I wrong to guess it's a professional interest? An avocation, as it were, rather than a casual fancy? That'd be a nice play against type, as the novelists might call it. Not a Summertime, and the livin's easy - Bradley's on the microphone with Ras MG.... but more a <whistles a bit of Vivaldi> is it?

Turning to the gnome Well met Lady Kibble. Galanodel Tosh - Del will do - and I'm not sure I can properly say. Seemed like the right direction to head? Hoping to be of use, I guess.

Looking around, he says quietly and hopefully There are a thousand epics that start like this...

"It is good to meet you, Del," says Kibble. "A talented musician is always welcome in Lomalos.  But it is merely Captain Kibble, not 'Lady.' Even among the noble houses here, titles are rarely used, except for in the most formal situations, or for the highest-placed leaders."

"Eladrin don't see the seasons the same way those who live in this realm do," Mindartis replies. "To us, the seasons are connected to an emotional state. Spring," he gestures out the carriage window to the nature around them, "brings Joy. Fall brings generosity. Winter brings Sorrow, and Summer, well Summer brings Fury."

"As for why I'm here, I'm searching for answers," he gestures to his tattoo. "My sister and I woke up with them one day. We drew lots, and I was the lucky winner of one trip to this realm while my sister explores the Feywild and see if any fey or Archfey might be able to help us. I get to see if anyone here has done any research on these kinds of tattoos."

Quentin chuckles some at the mention of titles not being used before he speaks up again. "If they are magical in nature you should perhaps head to the same place as I. Lord Quentin Adiyodi." There is an emphasis on the word lord as he says it out loud, obviously wanting everyone in the cart to know, "I am heading to the school run by the House of Simul. It is after all the best place to further expand my understanding of the arcane arts."