Tristan breaks the connection with the devils and feels the pull of Dog’s message. He provides a brief update “Not much more than we could tell by the altercation I am afraid. Typhorus is incensed and Bael is pouting. There are two new names in the mix, Centulia and Valibatasha, but I am unsure why the other two are thinking about them. My sources indicate that almost all resistance to the reorganization plan has fallen and now the argument is over the selection of new gods.”
Tristan smiles at Dog as he resumes speaking out loud. “Yes, we have not had a proper introduction, you were busy with the security for all of this when I arrived. I am at your service. Your file?” Tristan raises an eyebrow and gives a small smile and waves his hand around the clearing “Tock did not provide a lot of background on any of this, our time together was short. But he did say to trust you implicitly."
Kulloda listens to Gash describe his journey here. He looks intently at the small goblin. The concepts he discusses are at the very edge of Kulloda's experience.
"This is life have and have always had," Kulloda finally says. "Why think about future that not come?"
Kulloda is quiet for a long moment after that, anyone watching him would think he's lost interest in the conversation and is back to watching the lithe forms of the elves and nymphs move gracefully through the clearing. But eventually he looks back down at Gash.
"Some day Kulloda have no master."
He nods at his own comment, trying it on for size; thinking about the future for the first time in his life.
The only notice that Act III has arrived is a sudden dimming of the lights. A single player emerges in the darkness, the maiden, mingling among the audience. She is bathed in Faerie Fire and continues the play with a soliloquy about the unseasonal tree.
"Is the tree confused or am I?" she says. "This place makes little sense to me. Perhaps the tree is the one that is right."
The fey whoop and cheer at this line, feeling no condemnation of the echo realm in these lines.
Two more players emerge cloaked in Faerie Fire, dressed as the twin dryads. They sing in unison, "Only then can you go home. Only then can you go home."
The maiden appears to notice them, broken from her reverie. "I don't want to go home," she says, sounding angry suddenly.
The twins stop singing. "You should really fix the tree," they say together.
"Why?" the maiden says. "I like it like this."
"I want it to be green," says one twin. "Like this."
"You stopped the tree from changing!" the maiden says.
"I want it to be barren," says the other.
"Oh!" says the maiden. "You both can fix the tree as you like."
"Green!" says the first twin.
"Barren!" says the second.
The maiden's Faerie Fire fades and the dryad twins bicker for a time before the maiden suddenly reappears in full glow.
"Stop!" she says and the entire glen turns silent. This is the moment for which the fey have been waiting. Who is the creator of the Seasonal Court? A mortal woman or do the fey own this piece of history.
The maiden points at the first twin. "You," she says, "Will stay here and keep this tree green forever."
She grabs the other twin's hand. "And we will go find something more fun to do."
"Excuse me!" says the second twin as they turn to leave.
"How dare you!" says the first twin. "You would tell me what to do?"
The maiden turns and stomps a single foot. "I would," she says and the entire forest erupts with boos and hisses and chattering tiny voices. Calling out over the noise, the maid says, "You told me to fix the tree. I have."
The chattering and booing and hissing peter out. The dryad twins only glare at the maiden. "I don't want to stay here forever," the first twin says.
"Too bad," says the maiden.
"I don't want to go anywhere with a bossy mortal," says the other dryad. The fey laugh and hoot.
"Then you shouldn't have given me the power to fix the tree," says the maiden, jutting out her chin.
"You don't have..." says the first twin.
"I do!" says the maiden.
The twins bracket the maiden between them and begin a new song, an ominous one, refusing the girl's directive. They begin to sing a complicated call and answer, the dryads and the maiden. They circle her and she cowers. They lunge and she scampers. The fey in the audience begin to swirl and bob with the mortals in dryad costumes, giving the scene all the more gravitas as if the entire Feywild spins around the poor mortal girl.
At the song's conclusion, the maiden produces an axe, proclaiming, "I want to go home!"
The dryads, and many of the fey in the audience, step back in shock at the axe, not wielded as a weapon but as a promise to fell the tree and end the silly argument forever.
As the maiden begins a new song, turning herself into the antagonist of the scene, the lights reappear. The players are in the center of a circle again that is has formed spontaneously, their Faerie Fire gone, and an arcane ball of light shines over the center of this circle. What is noticeable to the emissaries and a few of the other human guests is that the angels and devils have all left.
They were not so sneaky as they would like to have been, though. Tristan noticed them leaving first, en masse. But everyone, even Kulloda, saw the large shadows of solars departing the glen. They have retreated towards the previous clearing where the play began. An attentive ear can hear voices in discussion even through the maiden's song.
Kulloda watches the start of the third act with mild interest but soon tires of it. By the end, he's completely lost until again feeling some connection when the one dryad says they don't want to be bossed around. At that he nods. But then the endless talk about fixing or not fixing the tree starts to frustrate him.
"Just cut the tree down and be done with it," he says loud enough for Gash and those nearby to hear. "Can't fix a tree."
When the Solars leave the glen he watches them for a moment, then looks around for Centulia to see if she's stayed or has gone to the other clearing.
(If Centulia has left, Kulloda will nod a farewell to Gash and go looking for her. If she's still in the glen, instead he'll turn his back on the end of the play and look for more wine, either way walking off on his deceptively quiet feet.).
“I don’t suppose they’re outraged at these mortals here for claiming some girl is responsible for the Courts?” - Llyr spoke to Passalwyck in mild derision before, with a sigh, beginning his trek towards the gathering of Angels and Demons. For a beat, the radiant Elf stopped, turned back and quipped: “Be a dear and find me the Bard that made this happen, would you?"- he motioned towards the stage with his gaze - “I’ll feel better if by this night’s end, my rear won’t be the only one set ablaze by a mob of age-old beings with a grudge.”
”Not one day of peace and quiet, I swear…” - the Eladrin grumbled under his breath, as he carried on his way to the clearing, dragging his feet in fully silent, surprisingly graceful steps. Now possessing a little less than absolutely no faith whatsoever that this Kingdom would manage, but having no intention of stepping onto the limelight - i.e. the crossfire - just yet, Llyr mentally summoned Spren, his familiar - currently in Owl form and in possession of his Bag of Holding - and continued approaching the gaggle of Divine Ambassadors until he was in earshot, though for now Llyr gave the proceedings something of a wide berth.
Tristan finds his eyes drawn to the play despite himself, he finds the interaction between the child and the dryads amusing. I am not familiar with this story, I must find out who put this play together later, he thinks to himself. He did not lose his senses however, and quickly spotted the angels and devils departing the clearing back in the direction of Act I.
He points this out to Dog and the others “It is poor form to leave a play before the final act, but this just may be the main attraction.” He follows the Solars back to the clearing silently, getting close enough to hear their conversation while attempting to remain on the fringes of the clearing.
Gash follows Kulloda to the food table and snickers at this comment as the play goes on.
“would you like company, Kulloda?” The goblin says as they walk away. Gash stands still waiting for a confirmation while also looking around for Dog and what he is doing.
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Gash- Lvl14 Goblin Wizard - The High Court of the Aasimar Queen
Forty celestial and infernal beings have gathered in the clearing where Act I took place. The tables of food and the warming fires are gone now. A few celestials have provided magical lighting. Amidst the tall and strapping divine creatures are a pair of mortals. One is a gnome, coming barely to the knees of the shortest devil there. Martin and Gash both recognize this one to be the cantankerous mage Finnegan. The other appears to be a human woman, perhaps in her late 40s with streaks of white at her temples in otherwise flame-red hair. She also stands shorter than the celestial and infernal beings around her, though not by nearly the same margin.
The divine beings have vaguely self-sorted into three groups, with a few of them not sorted into any. One group of about ten or so are milling about the flame-haired woman. Another group of about a dozen or so are gathered around the gnome. Another group of about a dozen stand apart from the others, intensely and excitedly discussing things. Centulia stands with the gnome, Kulloda sees. Parsing out the rest of the apparent factions will take some time.
Irovax, scion of Helm, notices them before anyone can take stock of the sides. He and Bailyx, representative of Tyr, are standing at the edge of the clearing away from the others, right next to where the party has passed through the trees into the open.
"Look at the mess you have encouraged, mortals,"says the Solar. "You should have left well-enough alone."
Dog:
Dog joins Gentoa, who is starting to look sleepy as the play draws to a close. The maiden has become the antagonist, singing and strutting around the dryads, accusing them of tricking her into staying in the Feywild forever. The second verse flips the dynamic and the dryads press back, accusing the maiden of tricking them into sending her home without fixing the tree. The fey are enthralled by this interaction. The flying fey drift around the center of the play, drawing slightly closer as they watch more and more intently.
The maiden presses back, the audience giving her space. She accuses them of tricking her into trying to fix a tree that is not broken, since it is the dryads that master the season of the tree. The fey boo and hiss and speed their agitation around the players. It must be terrifying to be in the center of this.
The dryads get the last verse. They press back against the maiden again, accusing her of tricking them into befriending an outsider.
"We were friends?" says the maiden as the music cascades into a soft melody.
The agitated audience likewise calms, whether to the music or to the ending of the fight, it is difficult to say.
Gentoa looks up at Dog, as she is now nestled in Regent Duliani's arms. She grabs his left forefinger and smiles at the goliath sweetly. She may not understand everything about what the players are saying, but the music, the emotion in the voices of the players, and the wild and responsive reaction of the audience has kept her attention. Here, she seems to know that the emotional note of the play is on friendship and reconciliation.
Kulloda looks up at the Solar who appears to be reprimanding him with the others who just entered the glen. He just shrugs and looks around in case there's a food or wine table still around.
"If these Solars drank more wine it might get the giant sticks out of their backsides," Kulloda says to Gash. "Do you know what's going on?"
As he looks around the glen, he notices Centulia standing in the gnomes group.
"Boring tree chopping play, or watching this," Kulloda adds. "I could have spent night sharpening axe. Why are we here?"
The angel looks down at the towering half-orc. He follows the barbarian's gaze. "Ah," Irovax says. "This is Centulia's pet. She thinks she is 10 steps ahead, that is all cosmic dragonchess. I would leave now, if I were you half-breed."
Kulloda looks up at the angel and holds his gaze for several moments, then the hoarse grunting from his throat begins but soon erupts into open laughter.
"I can tell your an angel and not devil," Kulloda says. "That is a terrible insult. Words fall from your mouth like shite from my backside."
Kulloda waits to see if anything is actually going to happen with all these gods or if he should just go back and see if the tree gets chopped down or not.
“We are blamed for causing this, and simultaneously told that we have no say in it. We say: enough. This mayhem is your own doing. It has been your own doing forever. There are already regrets, I can see it. Please… lean into change before you can’t.”
Gash follows Kulloda using shape water to snake the wine from his glass to his mouth to amuse his new friend.
when the question of what’s going on comes up, “ya know, I’ve done so much for them it’s hard to ever tell what’s going on.”
when the solar blames the mortals Gash leans over to Kulloda “now that seems about right. For some reason it’s always our fault. It’s tiring.” Gash then laughs at Killodas remark
when Martin moves to address the blame Gash steps forward and addresses the Solar to back up Martin, “We have done everything. We saved the child and mother. We saw them to the king. We had to fight off and run from demons and devils. We lost friends. We gave it all to you damn people. You’ve already ran off emissary Tock. You’re about to lose all of us. We have earned your respect and we deserve it but yet you show only contempt. I gotta say, the heavens have felt more like hell than hell. At least you know what the demons and devils want — what they’re motivated by — I’m at my wits end with you.”
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Gash- Lvl14 Goblin Wizard - The High Court of the Aasimar Queen
In a soundless flutter of wings, an Owl crisscrossed by magic circle-like glowing lines, descended upon the Eladrin. In its talons there laid a pouch. Well crafted, relatively small, and dark in colour, Llyr calmly retrieved it from the bird, and proceeded to calmly fasten it to his belt, as the bird flew off, the silent beating of its wings buffeting the Elf’s hair against his face no less than three times. The item secured, the Bladesinger turned to glare at this odd creature which, if beaks could allow for it, would no doubt be grinning from proverbial ear to ear.
With a sigh, he ran his fingers through his luminescent hair, taming it with relative ease, before making his presence known. The robed Ambassador weaved a few signs and mumbled a few words, boosting his Persuasive ability (Skill Empowerment), and stepped closer to the proceedings, his gaze panning through the forty-odd beings that had gathered here before, finally, he spoke. His voice rang clearly and with authority, in the distinct and distinguished language of the Courts themselves, Sylvan.
“I confess I‘m not entirely certain I understand the point of this conversation.”- Llyr turned to address the pair of Solars that had engaged them so far, his eyes looking through the mortals gathered - “They’ll all be dead soon. Tomorrow, or in some fifty years, what’s the difference? They’ll be in the ground, forgotten. And you’ll still be you. You’ve won. Congratulations.” - the words escaped his lips matter-of-factly but there was always the notoriously Fey hint of jest, playfulness and infinitely refined sarcasm, walking the blade’s edge between assertion and offence ever so gracefully -“So why debase yourselves by bickering with children?”
The Silverhand Envoy now directed his stare to the remainder of the Divine messengers across the clearing. “You do not care for mortals, lack respect for them, perhaps. I understand.”- having dealt with age-old beings more than most, he did - “But I’d ask that you remember that there is now a third group of Eternals at the table. One that has very graciously accepted your Masters’ requests to Mediate your discussions. And while I’m certain you know that the Courts do not typically possess quite so long a memory as the Divine, I’m sure you’re also aware that while not all Immortals preach Respect, none of them tolerate being disrespected… or ignored.“
A breath, long and almost sigh-like. “There is little point in adding more everlasting wrath to an already tense situation. Tonight is a farce, this much is no secret. But all the same I would beseech those gathered here. Allow the Courts the ability to do what they’ve been asked to. The day for discussion will come, and decisions will be made, witnessed by those who’ll actually be around to see them. For tonight, though, the rulers of my kindwould ask you simply play the game. Pretend… or stand stoically in corners, if it tickles your fancy. But please, allow the night to end in some semblance of peace.”
”As for the rest of you.” - the Eladrin now spoke in an amicable, clean Common, in an offering of friendly advice, though his eyes remained tracked on the gathering of Angels and Devils - “Anyone whose natural lifespan will run out in the next couple of hundred years. Return to the gathering. Enjoy the wine. Consider eating some food as well, perhaps. Eternity is much too far away. Don’t waste your precious, limited time with its matters.”
Martin thinks that’s good enough for him and heads back for more wine. ”The point was missed again, it seems. No matter how long they live, it won’t be forever if they can’t give and take.”
As Martin turns to leave, Bailyx, the other Solar, speaks up. "They're right, Irovax, You are being unfair. The mortals cannot be both pawns and responsible for the mistakes of the gods."
The angel turns to Kulloda. "My apologies for his behavior. He is frustrated with how things have turned out. I hope," he says with a pointed look at Irovax, "He will apologize as well."
Irovax mumbles an apology to the half-orc for being rude. The angel is clearly chastened, though, and he steps back, leaning his bulk against a tree and crossing his arms.
"It is, indeed, the role of the gods to look over the mortals. My lord Tyr, and the same can be said for Helm, will abide by the will of the other gods. There will be no war waged from our planes on this. But what follows, we firmly object to. Record it for posterity for all our objections will do at this point."
Dog:
Dog does not hear anything from the next clearing over. There is little excitement there yet, it seems.
In the play, the maiden slumps to the ground, the fight in her gone. The dryads look at each other as if unsure of what to do. They circle the maiden slowly. Eventually, she says, "I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to trick you. I couldn't fix your tree. I'm sorry for that too."
The dryads move in, hugging the maiden. "You couldn't fix our tree because you are not fey," they say in unison.
"I wish I was," she says. The audience gasps at this.
"We are sorry you are not," say the dryads. "But you can still stay as long as you like."
There is a long pause as the maiden considers this. "No," she says at last. "I don't wish to fight as often as you do. I love you dearly. There is so much fun to be had here. Except when there isn't."
"That is the way of the fey," say the dryads.
"I know," says the maiden. She stands and walks slowly towards the edge of the clearing. "Goodbye, my friends. I will think of you constantly."
The dryads look at each other for a long time. Their joy and their vigor is sapped as their mortal plaything, or maybe even friend, walks away.
"Wait," they say together. The maiden turns. "We have an idea."
The play ends with a song about sharing the tree, one in the summer and one in the winter. They will take turns. They will celebrate the exchange. They will enjoy their time in the Feywild, whether they mind the tree or not. It is just a tree but it is also so much more.
The fey and the mortals in the audience applaud for the silent players at the end for a full five minutes. When Dog looks over, Gentoa is asleep. Neventi is taking her from Regent Duliani and returning towards the first clearing. Dog knows a tent is set up nearby for the queen, complete with guard detail and attendants. The fey and mortals mingle for a while, crowding around the players as the lights are recast. As people desire to leave, they are shepherded expertly towards the first clearing and the road home. The traffic is directed away from the angels and devils and their business. This is a good time for Dog to join his comrades.
Everyone:
Dog arrives as the play has concluded. Nobody else is coming this way, thanks to the excellent shepherding of guests by the staff.
"Brothers and sisters," calls out a powerful female voice. An angel in the center of the milling factions of divine beings stands tall, turning as she speaks. Dog, Martin, and Gash recognize her to be Orbinata, scion of Selune, the goddess of the moon. "Let us begin our deliberations."
Bailyx leans forward, saying, "Pay close attention, mortals. This will be historic, however it turns out."
"You know how it will turn out," Irovax says.
"Now who is playing cosmic dragonchess,"says Bailyx. Irovax does not respond.
Orbinata continues. "First, a vote. Two-thirds is required to carry the vote. All in favor of reorganization of the celestial and infernal planes, into celestial, limbo, and infernal planes per the plan formally proposed by Deneir of the eighth sphere of the heavens, raise your hands."
Twenty-seven divine beings raise their hands. The gnome Finnegan raises his hand as well, grinning and it is swatted away by one of the devils.
"The vote passes," Orbinata says. Murmurs and rapid discussion rumble through the crowd but it calms quickly. This was not unexpected. "The divine planes will require two new gods to balance the planes, one for the hells and one for the newly formed limbo. Syn your proposal."
Syn, the devil of Mask, the god of thieves, steps forward. "We only speak for the future circles of the hells but grant our brothers and sisters of the Limbo planes their freedom to choose a new god. We propose to elevate Finnegan the mage to the god of ambition to sit alongside Bane and Malar in the plane of Domination."
There is no response in the crowd, since this seems to be well-known already. "Ezath and Arroch, do Bane and Malar agree to this proposal?" Orbinata says. They nod and say yes. "Do the gods of Limbo propose a god?"
"We would accept the god only known as the Traveler,"says Brune, scion of Deneir.
The Traveler, known to most except perhaps Kulloda (roll a religion check if you are unsure? DC 12), the Traveler is the banished god. The why and when and how is not known but he or she is a god known to wander the mortal plane, ejected from the heavens long ago.
"Our proposal,"says Syn, "is contingent on Limbo choosing a new god, not one formerly of the heavens who has had no part in this deliberation."
"Then Limbo will defer any suggestion for the time being but will put forth a proposed new god should this proposal pass," says Brune.
"Morrikal, the counter-proposal?" says Orbinata.
Morrikal, gray and gaunt, steps forward. "We have strong support for elevating Xa'lawea, ancient and feared red dragon, to the god of adversity to sit alongside Beshaba and Talona. This proposal allows the Traveller to take a place in Limbo, should they agree to numerous conditions."
The human-looking woman with flame-red hair steps forward, giving a polite bow. She then steps back among the towering solars and devils.
"Jal'gennoch? Valibatasha? Do your gods agree to this plan?" Orbinata says.
"Beshaba does,"says Valibatasha.
"Talona prefers the other plan," Jal'gennoch says. "But will accept this plan if it passes the vote."
Orbinata nods. "Lets try a vote, then," she says, but does not sound hopeful. The way the devils and angels have divided themselves up, it looks to be an even match. "In favor of Syn's proposal?"
Fourteen raise their hands, almost all devils. The only two angels stand near the party: Irovax and Bailyx.
Orbinata nods grimly. "A two-thirds vote is impossible, then,"she says.
"May we see the support for my proposal?" Morrikal says.
"Certainly. All in favor?" Orbinata says.
Thirteen raise their hands.
"I have no preference," says Felistra, scion of Waukeen.
A few angels and devils murmur agreement.
"Well, I suppose it is time to discuss. Find favor with one before we vote again, if you can. We will try a vote again before dawn."
Angels and devils begin to find each other for hushed, urgent conversations.
"If you wish to have any say in the future of your hells and limbo," Bailyx says dryly, "Now is your chance to try and sway the gods themselves, little mortals."
Kulloda watches all of the conversation between those of the heavens, hells and limbo with ever increasing boredom. He doesn't even bother to hide the yawn that stretches across his tusked and scarred visage. He looks around to find Gash.
"A lot of pretty talk, but if get gist," Kulloda says. "All about who pisses on us and from where. Why would mortal care? All same. This one, that one. All piss on mortals."
But he also remembers who brought him there and the power wielded by those in attendance. He looks for Centulia again, making sure he can see her and that she doesn't want his presence.
He does look up at Bailyx and Irovax when they talk to him and he does acknowledge the apology with a nod. But he does laugh a little when he gets one. It would have been a short fight, but it would have been something to test himself against one of these creatures.
Dog and Tristan
Tristan breaks the connection with the devils and feels the pull of Dog’s message. He provides a brief update “Not much more than we could tell by the altercation I am afraid. Typhorus is incensed and Bael is pouting. There are two new names in the mix, Centulia and Valibatasha, but I am unsure why the other two are thinking about them. My sources indicate that almost all resistance to the reorganization plan has fallen and now the argument is over the selection of new gods.”
Tristan smiles at Dog as he resumes speaking out loud. “Yes, we have not had a proper introduction, you were busy with the security for all of this when I arrived. I am at your service. Your file?” Tristan raises an eyebrow and gives a small smile and waves his hand around the clearing “Tock did not provide a lot of background on any of this, our time together was short. But he did say to trust you implicitly."
Gash and Kulloda
Kulloda listens to Gash describe his journey here. He looks intently at the small goblin. The concepts he discusses are at the very edge of Kulloda's experience.
"This is life have and have always had," Kulloda finally says. "Why think about future that not come?"
Kulloda is quiet for a long moment after that, anyone watching him would think he's lost interest in the conversation and is back to watching the lithe forms of the elves and nymphs move gracefully through the clearing. But eventually he looks back down at Gash.
"Some day Kulloda have no master."
He nods at his own comment, trying it on for size; thinking about the future for the first time in his life.
Then he points over at the food tables.
"Come. We get more wine. Come."
The only notice that Act III has arrived is a sudden dimming of the lights. A single player emerges in the darkness, the maiden, mingling among the audience. She is bathed in Faerie Fire and continues the play with a soliloquy about the unseasonal tree.
"Is the tree confused or am I?" she says. "This place makes little sense to me. Perhaps the tree is the one that is right."
The fey whoop and cheer at this line, feeling no condemnation of the echo realm in these lines.
Two more players emerge cloaked in Faerie Fire, dressed as the twin dryads. They sing in unison, "Only then can you go home. Only then can you go home."
The maiden appears to notice them, broken from her reverie. "I don't want to go home," she says, sounding angry suddenly.
The twins stop singing. "You should really fix the tree," they say together.
"Why?" the maiden says. "I like it like this."
"I want it to be green," says one twin. "Like this."
"You stopped the tree from changing!" the maiden says.
"I want it to be barren," says the other.
"Oh!" says the maiden. "You both can fix the tree as you like."
"Green!" says the first twin.
"Barren!" says the second.
The maiden's Faerie Fire fades and the dryad twins bicker for a time before the maiden suddenly reappears in full glow.
"Stop!" she says and the entire glen turns silent. This is the moment for which the fey have been waiting. Who is the creator of the Seasonal Court? A mortal woman or do the fey own this piece of history.
The maiden points at the first twin. "You," she says, "Will stay here and keep this tree green forever."
She grabs the other twin's hand. "And we will go find something more fun to do."
"Excuse me!" says the second twin as they turn to leave.
"How dare you!" says the first twin. "You would tell me what to do?"
The maiden turns and stomps a single foot. "I would," she says and the entire forest erupts with boos and hisses and chattering tiny voices. Calling out over the noise, the maid says, "You told me to fix the tree. I have."
The chattering and booing and hissing peter out. The dryad twins only glare at the maiden. "I don't want to stay here forever," the first twin says.
"Too bad," says the maiden.
"I don't want to go anywhere with a bossy mortal," says the other dryad. The fey laugh and hoot.
"Then you shouldn't have given me the power to fix the tree," says the maiden, jutting out her chin.
"You don't have..." says the first twin.
"I do!" says the maiden.
The twins bracket the maiden between them and begin a new song, an ominous one, refusing the girl's directive. They begin to sing a complicated call and answer, the dryads and the maiden. They circle her and she cowers. They lunge and she scampers. The fey in the audience begin to swirl and bob with the mortals in dryad costumes, giving the scene all the more gravitas as if the entire Feywild spins around the poor mortal girl.
At the song's conclusion, the maiden produces an axe, proclaiming, "I want to go home!"
The dryads, and many of the fey in the audience, step back in shock at the axe, not wielded as a weapon but as a promise to fell the tree and end the silly argument forever.
As the maiden begins a new song, turning herself into the antagonist of the scene, the lights reappear. The players are in the center of a circle again that is has formed spontaneously, their Faerie Fire gone, and an arcane ball of light shines over the center of this circle. What is noticeable to the emissaries and a few of the other human guests is that the angels and devils have all left.
They were not so sneaky as they would like to have been, though. Tristan noticed them leaving first, en masse. But everyone, even Kulloda, saw the large shadows of solars departing the glen. They have retreated towards the previous clearing where the play began. An attentive ear can hear voices in discussion even through the maiden's song.
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Kulloda watches the start of the third act with mild interest but soon tires of it. By the end, he's completely lost until again feeling some connection when the one dryad says they don't want to be bossed around. At that he nods. But then the endless talk about fixing or not fixing the tree starts to frustrate him.
"Just cut the tree down and be done with it," he says loud enough for Gash and those nearby to hear. "Can't fix a tree."
When the Solars leave the glen he watches them for a moment, then looks around for Centulia to see if she's stayed or has gone to the other clearing.
(If Centulia has left, Kulloda will nod a farewell to Gash and go looking for her. If she's still in the glen, instead he'll turn his back on the end of the play and look for more wine, either way walking off on his deceptively quiet feet.).
Martin considers the tree and the maiden.
He turns to follow the devils and angels then, casting enhance ability at 4th level on Dog, Gash, and himself to enhance charisma.
Paladin - warforged - orange
“I don’t suppose they’re outraged at these mortals here for claiming some girl is responsible for the Courts?” - Llyr spoke to Passalwyck in mild derision before, with a sigh, beginning his trek towards the gathering of Angels and Demons. For a beat, the radiant Elf stopped, turned back and quipped: “Be a dear and find me the Bard that made this happen, would you?" - he motioned towards the stage with his gaze - “I’ll feel better if by this night’s end, my rear won’t be the only one set ablaze by a mob of age-old beings with a grudge.”
”Not one day of peace and quiet, I swear…” - the Eladrin grumbled under his breath, as he carried on his way to the clearing, dragging his feet in fully silent, surprisingly graceful steps. Now possessing a little less than absolutely no faith whatsoever that this Kingdom would manage, but having no intention of stepping onto the limelight - i.e. the crossfire - just yet, Llyr mentally summoned Spren, his familiar - currently in Owl form and in possession of his Bag of Holding - and continued approaching the gaggle of Divine Ambassadors until he was in earshot, though for now Llyr gave the proceedings something of a wide berth.
Spren.
(Night Owl by Alvaro Estrada - ArtStation)
Tristan finds his eyes drawn to the play despite himself, he finds the interaction between the child and the dryads amusing. I am not familiar with this story, I must find out who put this play together later, he thinks to himself. He did not lose his senses however, and quickly spotted the angels and devils departing the clearing back in the direction of Act I.
He points this out to Dog and the others “It is poor form to leave a play before the final act, but this just may be the main attraction.” He follows the Solars back to the clearing silently, getting close enough to hear their conversation while attempting to remain on the fringes of the clearing.
Gash follows Kulloda to the food table and snickers at this comment as the play goes on.
“would you like company, Kulloda?” The goblin says as they walk away. Gash stands still waiting for a confirmation while also looking around for Dog and what he is doing.
Gash - Lvl14 Goblin Wizard - The High Court of the Aasimar Queen
Kulloda pauses for a moment, looks back down at Gash, then nods.
"Yes," Kulloda finally says. "You're okay. But do more water magic. Can you do it with wine?"
Everyone but Dog:
Forty celestial and infernal beings have gathered in the clearing where Act I took place. The tables of food and the warming fires are gone now. A few celestials have provided magical lighting. Amidst the tall and strapping divine creatures are a pair of mortals. One is a gnome, coming barely to the knees of the shortest devil there. Martin and Gash both recognize this one to be the cantankerous mage Finnegan. The other appears to be a human woman, perhaps in her late 40s with streaks of white at her temples in otherwise flame-red hair. She also stands shorter than the celestial and infernal beings around her, though not by nearly the same margin.
The divine beings have vaguely self-sorted into three groups, with a few of them not sorted into any. One group of about ten or so are milling about the flame-haired woman. Another group of about a dozen or so are gathered around the gnome. Another group of about a dozen stand apart from the others, intensely and excitedly discussing things. Centulia stands with the gnome, Kulloda sees. Parsing out the rest of the apparent factions will take some time.
Irovax, scion of Helm, notices them before anyone can take stock of the sides. He and Bailyx, representative of Tyr, are standing at the edge of the clearing away from the others, right next to where the party has passed through the trees into the open.
"Look at the mess you have encouraged, mortals," says the Solar. "You should have left well-enough alone."
Dog:
Dog joins Gentoa, who is starting to look sleepy as the play draws to a close. The maiden has become the antagonist, singing and strutting around the dryads, accusing them of tricking her into staying in the Feywild forever. The second verse flips the dynamic and the dryads press back, accusing the maiden of tricking them into sending her home without fixing the tree. The fey are enthralled by this interaction. The flying fey drift around the center of the play, drawing slightly closer as they watch more and more intently.
The maiden presses back, the audience giving her space. She accuses them of tricking her into trying to fix a tree that is not broken, since it is the dryads that master the season of the tree. The fey boo and hiss and speed their agitation around the players. It must be terrifying to be in the center of this.
The dryads get the last verse. They press back against the maiden again, accusing her of tricking them into befriending an outsider.
"We were friends?" says the maiden as the music cascades into a soft melody.
The agitated audience likewise calms, whether to the music or to the ending of the fight, it is difficult to say.
Gentoa looks up at Dog, as she is now nestled in Regent Duliani's arms. She grabs his left forefinger and smiles at the goliath sweetly. She may not understand everything about what the players are saying, but the music, the emotion in the voices of the players, and the wild and responsive reaction of the audience has kept her attention. Here, she seems to know that the emotional note of the play is on friendship and reconciliation.
Act III continues, but nears its conclusion...
Kulloda looks up at the Solar who appears to be reprimanding him with the others who just entered the glen. He just shrugs and looks around in case there's a food or wine table still around.
"If these Solars drank more wine it might get the giant sticks out of their backsides," Kulloda says to Gash. "Do you know what's going on?"
As he looks around the glen, he notices Centulia standing in the gnomes group.
"Boring tree chopping play, or watching this," Kulloda adds. "I could have spent night sharpening axe. Why are we here?"
The angel looks down at the towering half-orc. He follows the barbarian's gaze. "Ah," Irovax says. "This is Centulia's pet. She thinks she is 10 steps ahead, that is all cosmic dragonchess. I would leave now, if I were you half-breed."
Kulloda looks up at the angel and holds his gaze for several moments, then the hoarse grunting from his throat begins but soon erupts into open laughter.
"I can tell your an angel and not devil," Kulloda says. "That is a terrible insult. Words fall from your mouth like shite from my backside."
Kulloda waits to see if anything is actually going to happen with all these gods or if he should just go back and see if the tree gets chopped down or not.
Dog:
He looks to Duliani (is Nev there? is she often not around Genny?), and says, "I wonder who plays the maiden? She does not lack courage."
Can he hear any celestial/infernal commotion behind him?
Martin et al
Martin looks around the circle.
“We are blamed for causing this, and simultaneously told that we have no say in it. We say: enough. This mayhem is your own doing. It has been your own doing forever. There are already regrets, I can see it. Please… lean into change before you can’t.”
Paladin - warforged - orange
No Dogs allowed
Gash follows Kulloda using shape water to snake the wine from his glass to his mouth to amuse his new friend.
when the question of what’s going on comes up, “ya know, I’ve done so much for them it’s hard to ever tell what’s going on.”
when the solar blames the mortals Gash leans over to Kulloda “now that seems about right. For some reason it’s always our fault. It’s tiring.” Gash then laughs at Killodas remark
when Martin moves to address the blame Gash steps forward and addresses the Solar to back up Martin, “We have done everything. We saved the child and mother. We saw them to the king. We had to fight off and run from demons and devils. We lost friends. We gave it all to you damn people. You’ve already ran off emissary Tock. You’re about to lose all of us. We have earned your respect and we deserve it but yet you show only contempt. I gotta say, the heavens have felt more like hell than hell. At least you know what the demons and devils want — what they’re motivated by — I’m at my wits end with you.”
Gash - Lvl14 Goblin Wizard - The High Court of the Aasimar Queen
In a soundless flutter of wings, an Owl crisscrossed by magic circle-like glowing lines, descended upon the Eladrin. In its talons there laid a pouch. Well crafted, relatively small, and dark in colour, Llyr calmly retrieved it from the bird, and proceeded to calmly fasten it to his belt, as the bird flew off, the silent beating of its wings buffeting the Elf’s hair against his face no less than three times. The item secured, the Bladesinger turned to glare at this odd creature which, if beaks could allow for it, would no doubt be grinning from proverbial ear to ear.
With a sigh, he ran his fingers through his luminescent hair, taming it with relative ease, before making his presence known. The robed Ambassador weaved a few signs and mumbled a few words, boosting his Persuasive ability (Skill Empowerment), and stepped closer to the proceedings, his gaze panning through the forty-odd beings that had gathered here before, finally, he spoke. His voice rang clearly and with authority, in the distinct and distinguished language of the Courts themselves, Sylvan.
“I confess I‘m not entirely certain I understand the point of this conversation.” - Llyr turned to address the pair of Solars that had engaged them so far, his eyes looking through the mortals gathered - “They’ll all be dead soon. Tomorrow, or in some fifty years, what’s the difference? They’ll be in the ground, forgotten. And you’ll still be you. You’ve won. Congratulations.” - the words escaped his lips matter-of-factly but there was always the notoriously Fey hint of jest, playfulness and infinitely refined sarcasm, walking the blade’s edge between assertion and offence ever so gracefully - “So why debase yourselves by bickering with children?”
The Silverhand Envoy now directed his stare to the remainder of the Divine messengers across the clearing. “You do not care for mortals, lack respect for them, perhaps. I understand.” - having dealt with age-old beings more than most, he did - “But I’d ask that you remember that there is now a third group of Eternals at the table. One that has very graciously accepted your Masters’ requests to Mediate your discussions. And while I’m certain you know that the Courts do not typically possess quite so long a memory as the Divine, I’m sure you’re also aware that while not all Immortals preach Respect, none of them tolerate being disrespected… or ignored.“
A breath, long and almost sigh-like. “There is little point in adding more everlasting wrath to an already tense situation. Tonight is a farce, this much is no secret. But all the same I would beseech those gathered here. Allow the Courts the ability to do what they’ve been asked to. The day for discussion will come, and decisions will be made, witnessed by those who’ll actually be around to see them. For tonight, though, the rulers of my kind would ask you simply play the game. Pretend… or stand stoically in corners, if it tickles your fancy. But please, allow the night to end in some semblance of peace.”
”As for the rest of you.” - the Eladrin now spoke in an amicable, clean Common, in an offering of friendly advice, though his eyes remained tracked on the gathering of Angels and Devils - “Anyone whose natural lifespan will run out in the next couple of hundred years. Return to the gathering. Enjoy the wine. Consider eating some food as well, perhaps. Eternity is much too far away. Don’t waste your precious, limited time with its matters.”
Martin and the mortals
Martin thinks that’s good enough for him and heads back for more wine. ”The point was missed again, it seems. No matter how long they live, it won’t be forever if they can’t give and take.”
Paladin - warforged - orange
All but Dog:
As Martin turns to leave, Bailyx, the other Solar, speaks up. "They're right, Irovax, You are being unfair. The mortals cannot be both pawns and responsible for the mistakes of the gods."
The angel turns to Kulloda. "My apologies for his behavior. He is frustrated with how things have turned out. I hope," he says with a pointed look at Irovax, "He will apologize as well."
Irovax mumbles an apology to the half-orc for being rude. The angel is clearly chastened, though, and he steps back, leaning his bulk against a tree and crossing his arms.
"It is, indeed, the role of the gods to look over the mortals. My lord Tyr, and the same can be said for Helm, will abide by the will of the other gods. There will be no war waged from our planes on this. But what follows, we firmly object to. Record it for posterity for all our objections will do at this point."
Dog:
Dog does not hear anything from the next clearing over. There is little excitement there yet, it seems.
In the play, the maiden slumps to the ground, the fight in her gone. The dryads look at each other as if unsure of what to do. They circle the maiden slowly. Eventually, she says, "I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to trick you. I couldn't fix your tree. I'm sorry for that too."
The dryads move in, hugging the maiden. "You couldn't fix our tree because you are not fey," they say in unison.
"I wish I was," she says. The audience gasps at this.
"We are sorry you are not," say the dryads. "But you can still stay as long as you like."
There is a long pause as the maiden considers this. "No," she says at last. "I don't wish to fight as often as you do. I love you dearly. There is so much fun to be had here. Except when there isn't."
"That is the way of the fey," say the dryads.
"I know," says the maiden. She stands and walks slowly towards the edge of the clearing. "Goodbye, my friends. I will think of you constantly."
The dryads look at each other for a long time. Their joy and their vigor is sapped as their mortal plaything, or maybe even friend, walks away.
"Wait," they say together. The maiden turns. "We have an idea."
The play ends with a song about sharing the tree, one in the summer and one in the winter. They will take turns. They will celebrate the exchange. They will enjoy their time in the Feywild, whether they mind the tree or not. It is just a tree but it is also so much more.
The fey and the mortals in the audience applaud for the silent players at the end for a full five minutes. When Dog looks over, Gentoa is asleep. Neventi is taking her from Regent Duliani and returning towards the first clearing. Dog knows a tent is set up nearby for the queen, complete with guard detail and attendants. The fey and mortals mingle for a while, crowding around the players as the lights are recast. As people desire to leave, they are shepherded expertly towards the first clearing and the road home. The traffic is directed away from the angels and devils and their business. This is a good time for Dog to join his comrades.
Everyone:
Dog arrives as the play has concluded. Nobody else is coming this way, thanks to the excellent shepherding of guests by the staff.
"Brothers and sisters," calls out a powerful female voice. An angel in the center of the milling factions of divine beings stands tall, turning as she speaks. Dog, Martin, and Gash recognize her to be Orbinata, scion of Selune, the goddess of the moon. "Let us begin our deliberations."
Bailyx leans forward, saying, "Pay close attention, mortals. This will be historic, however it turns out."
"You know how it will turn out," Irovax says.
"Now who is playing cosmic dragonchess," says Bailyx. Irovax does not respond.
Orbinata continues. "First, a vote. Two-thirds is required to carry the vote. All in favor of reorganization of the celestial and infernal planes, into celestial, limbo, and infernal planes per the plan formally proposed by Deneir of the eighth sphere of the heavens, raise your hands."
Twenty-seven divine beings raise their hands. The gnome Finnegan raises his hand as well, grinning and it is swatted away by one of the devils.
"The vote passes," Orbinata says. Murmurs and rapid discussion rumble through the crowd but it calms quickly. This was not unexpected. "The divine planes will require two new gods to balance the planes, one for the hells and one for the newly formed limbo. Syn your proposal."
Syn, the devil of Mask, the god of thieves, steps forward. "We only speak for the future circles of the hells but grant our brothers and sisters of the Limbo planes their freedom to choose a new god. We propose to elevate Finnegan the mage to the god of ambition to sit alongside Bane and Malar in the plane of Domination."
There is no response in the crowd, since this seems to be well-known already. "Ezath and Arroch, do Bane and Malar agree to this proposal?" Orbinata says. They nod and say yes. "Do the gods of Limbo propose a god?"
"We would accept the god only known as the Traveler," says Brune, scion of Deneir.
The Traveler, known to most except perhaps Kulloda (roll a religion check if you are unsure? DC 12), the Traveler is the banished god. The why and when and how is not known but he or she is a god known to wander the mortal plane, ejected from the heavens long ago.
"Our proposal," says Syn, "is contingent on Limbo choosing a new god, not one formerly of the heavens who has had no part in this deliberation."
"Then Limbo will defer any suggestion for the time being but will put forth a proposed new god should this proposal pass," says Brune.
"Morrikal, the counter-proposal?" says Orbinata.
Morrikal, gray and gaunt, steps forward. "We have strong support for elevating Xa'lawea, ancient and feared red dragon, to the god of adversity to sit alongside Beshaba and Talona. This proposal allows the Traveller to take a place in Limbo, should they agree to numerous conditions."
The human-looking woman with flame-red hair steps forward, giving a polite bow. She then steps back among the towering solars and devils.
"Jal'gennoch? Valibatasha? Do your gods agree to this plan?" Orbinata says.
"Beshaba does," says Valibatasha.
"Talona prefers the other plan," Jal'gennoch says. "But will accept this plan if it passes the vote."
Orbinata nods. "Lets try a vote, then," she says, but does not sound hopeful. The way the devils and angels have divided themselves up, it looks to be an even match. "In favor of Syn's proposal?"
Fourteen raise their hands, almost all devils. The only two angels stand near the party: Irovax and Bailyx.
Orbinata nods grimly. "A two-thirds vote is impossible, then," she says.
"May we see the support for my proposal?" Morrikal says.
"Certainly. All in favor?" Orbinata says.
Thirteen raise their hands.
"I have no preference," says Felistra, scion of Waukeen.
A few angels and devils murmur agreement.
"Well, I suppose it is time to discuss. Find favor with one before we vote again, if you can. We will try a vote again before dawn."
Angels and devils begin to find each other for hushed, urgent conversations.
"If you wish to have any say in the future of your hells and limbo," Bailyx says dryly, "Now is your chance to try and sway the gods themselves, little mortals."
Kulloda watches all of the conversation between those of the heavens, hells and limbo with ever increasing boredom. He doesn't even bother to hide the yawn that stretches across his tusked and scarred visage. He looks around to find Gash.
"A lot of pretty talk, but if get gist," Kulloda says. "All about who pisses on us and from where. Why would mortal care? All same. This one, that one. All piss on mortals."
But he also remembers who brought him there and the power wielded by those in attendance. He looks for Centulia again, making sure he can see her and that she doesn't want his presence.
He does look up at Bailyx and Irovax when they talk to him and he does acknowledge the apology with a nod. But he does laugh a little when he gets one. It would have been a short fight, but it would have been something to test himself against one of these creatures.