Fantasy Setting Summer Dawn

[Zazz]

The assassin loosened the string of her bow at the sight of a certain Everreach... deserter. The tiniest quirk of a smile turned up one side of her face as she returned a black arrow to her quiver. The soil beneath her barely made a whisper as Azaria fell gracefully to her feet. Her gaze swept over Song and the others before meeting Falsedge's. "I believe interrogations would be quite in order. Wouldn't you say, Miss Jilaina Revess?"

A violent rustle was heard in the bushes just before an orc of Uxul's battalion broke through in a rage, headed straight for Falsedge. Without so much as a blink, Azaria had her twin daggers buried in his flesh; one in his gut, the other up under the back of his skull into his brain. A nearly instant death. The assassin released her blades and the green bulk collapsed on the forest floor.

 

[Zazz]

"Lohrithe...what you did..." He paused, put a hand through his soaking hair and tried again. "You shed blood for me...fought for me. It's not something I'll forget."

The drow's light green irises shimmered over their black backdrops at the orc's words. He felt a wave of emotion come over him, rising with his bare, moonlight chest. Lohrithe, keeping his arm around the naga's torso, took Desrick's hand and tugged him closer in the rain. Soaked in blood and rain, surrounded by death and destruction, Lohrithe could only find love in his heart for this great beast of a man. He raised his hand to the orc's temple and traced a fingertip down the side of his face, the sweetest of smiles adorning his lips. "I would do it again in a heartbeat," he told Desrick, and leaned up to kiss his cheek.

 

[SilverFlight]

"It would bother me." Pyrrhus came to his new friends' defense with an impatient flick of his tail. "Just because we've come out of a battle doesn't mean we can't all be civil. Both these fine people helped put out the fires. If they wanted to run or sit back and watch Delan burn, they had ample opportunity. Or if you're basing your suspicions on Jilaina's Sumennan appearance, I should mention that to me, there is very little to distinguish you both."
Mythee Yatasal Zazz mothspit

Desrick's breath caught in his throat at Lohr's touch, of Lohr's lips against his skin. The dawning realization was slow, and as apparent on his face as words on a page. He had not expected that. He stared down at his oldest friend and it was as if he was looking at an entirely different person. Never had he once imagined that Lohr's dedicated attention had been anything more than...but it was. The fires were gone but Desrick felt uncomfortably warm. His mind was dissolving into utter chaos.
"I..I.."
"Desrick!" Crispin's voice cut through the soup of his thoughts and his practical mind grabbed at it like a life line. "You'd better come quick! Some of the villagers have started rounding up the defeated orcs. If we're going to make this well we need to do it now!"
The peacekeepers had work to do.
"I need to go." Desrick finished quickly, turning to his brother.
He looked at Ora and though he knew they needed healers, he needed to see this through first. "There is going to be much discussion. You and Burgren clearly had time to speak, your presence will be valuable. Will you come help me settle the treaty? I fear there will be more blood if we're not careful."
Zazz Flutterby Mythee

~*~*~

Three days after The Battle of Delan most of the debris had been cleared. The town was still in shambles, many of the houses were charred husks of what they had once been. Most of the houses that had burned completely had been the ones on the ground. Only a few of the houses high in the trees had been completely destroyed, most had only been badly scorched on the outside before the flames could get into them. Tents had been put up in the center square to serve the families that had been displaced. The thick canopy of foliage that had closed Delan off from the sky was gone, and moonlight shone through the branches, casting beams over the edges of the town. The center, thanks to the efforts of so many, was still lit by the magnificent crystal. The pride of Delan.
The temple had been preserved in its entirety, though the lower chambers were still filled with ankle deep water. Most scrolls and parchments had been rescued and cluttered the main space, filling up nooks that were meant for prayer.

Desrick's house had by some miracle been spared the fire, though one of the beasts they'd baited into the village to distract the enemy had taken a huge hunk out of the workshop wall with claw or tusk. Levinia, Crispin's biological mother and Desrick's adopted one, insisted that she put them all up again, extending the invitation now to the centaur and his three new acquaintances, Jilaina, Azaria and Trileon.

The orcs, elves, Desrick and Ora had talked for marks after the battle. All were weary, and many of the orcs were injured. Finally, and with much begrudging acquiescence, the terms were set: The wood elves would cede the lands most important and return them back to the orc tribes they had taken them from. The orcs agreed to help rebuild the village, and act as ambassadors to other tribes that had been pushed out too close to the half-sun hills. They were permitted to trade in Delan's center square. For the most part, both sides seemed to respect the treaty. Desrick had made sure to correct the loopholes that had enabled the elves to take the land in the first place, and prevented the orcs from demanding the right to war with the elves as a prize for winning the duel set for political disputes. The treaty was signed and sealed in the temple of Cyndara just the day before.

Now Desrick stood at the edge of the ceremonial funeral for both Burgren and Uxul. Though Uxul had gone against the orc code and attacked Delan for Everreach, he had died in battle, and earned his honour and last rights. The clearing was not far from Delan, but this ceremony was for orcs, and only them, though Desrick's allies were invited to attend as well.

Orcish warriors ringed the funeral pyres, one for each of the two warriors. The bodies had been dressed in their finest armour, weapons placed over their chests, with hands resting atop the handles. The orc who presided over the ceremony was aged, though still a fighter, in studded leather armour, and bones woven through his grey hair.
He was speaking of past deeds and honouring both as fearless warriors but Desrick was having trouble focusing on the words, his mind kept trailing back to Lohrithe, and he had brushed his own cheek more than once since the funeral had begun.
He missed the cue, and felt foolish as he was the last to draw his weapon.
"In life we draw blood! In Death we celebrate glory in battle!" The words rose like a battle cry from all orc throats.
"Bring forth the torches!" The old orc commanded.
As the pyres were lit there was a soft hum that began in the front rows. A deep, commanding thing that gained volume as it was taken up by the orcs behind, and those behind them. The hum turned into a melody, low and haunting, framed by the baritone voices of the men. It was an old song, meant to guide the fallen to their final resting place. It called on Cyndabrynde, but in her war-like image. The goddess was peaceful, but she could also bring wrath, as had been shown by the monsters that charged into the village during the battle, and the orcs sang to that, calling for her to recognize the strength of the two who would soon be with her.
Desrick sung too, losing himself in the rhythm and the tune. As the flames rose high the orcs fell silent, and soon, nothing could be heard but the hungry roar of the flames.

Desrick came a little ways away from the pyres and the people, lost in his thoughts. There were many things to think about: He'd been avoiding Lohr for the better part of the these three days, unsure how to approach whatever was sitting between them now. He needed help but had no idea who or how to ask for it, and so, he stayed with his thoughts, or else, tried to occupy his mind with different ones, mainly those that revolved around the note that had come to Delan that morning. Another village had been attacked at the same time as Delan. Lassard, the captain of the Evereach high elves, had made two attempts for a crystal, and though Delan had held onto theirs, that other village had succumbed to the orc invasion and their crystal had been taken. So now that Evereach had what they wanted being delivered to them as Desrick sat there thinking, the question was clear: what were they going to do next?

***

The melodic notes wove their way through the forest of tents. The lute offered its music through expert hands and carried a joyful tune, something to put energy in one's step and a smile on one's face. Pyrrhus' hooves clapped the ground in time to his music as he strolled leisurely through the square, enjoying his playing as much as anyone who heard it.
There had been enough hardship endured by these good people. Now it was time for a good mood. The notes that he played were laced with just a hint of magic, to lighten the spirit and sooth the heart. Pyrrhus had been playing a lot recently, mostly in the healers tent, to strengthen the effect of poultices or elixirs. It was a task that didn't take half as much energy as healing someone outright, though when it was necessary he'd done that as well. The centaur was tired but in a good way.
He kept playing and as he did he cast about for faces he recognized.


Zazz Flutterby Nevina Mythee Yatasal mothspit hwayi

 

[mothspit]

For the past three days, Trileon had been in-and-out of various tents, helping Pyrrhus tend to the wounded. She had brought down several bundles of her own salves and potions, even fashioning a makeshift cast from tree bark for the elf who called herself Jilaina. She worked tirelessly, doing her best to take away any pain and console the distraught. In what little spare time she had left in between caring for those injured, she would sneak off to a nearby clearing, where she had hand-dug several small graves. While Desrick was mourning his people, Trileon was mourning what she considered hers-- The boars lost in battle. She spared little words for them, instead sitting by them for several hours at a time, reciting prayer after prayer in her mind that their souls be gently carried over to the other side.

She had respectfully declined Levinia invitation for lodging-- She still had her home perched in the trees, thankfully untouched by the efforts of Lassard and his men. Instead she proposed the idea that one of the injured take the space, if they were so willing. They needed it much more than she did.

But now she had done all that she could. The wounded would rest, and with the fallen animals properly honored, now.. she could finally relax. This much-needed break in tension she accepted with open arms. Now, she had gladly taken the opportunity to dance to the centaur's heartfelt music, and unbeknownst to her, a more playful side of her had reared it's smiling head. Her hair, once previously in two buns, now hung all the way down to her knees, with various strands intertwined with small bones and colorful flowers. Though she was laughing, there was still a million questions swirling at the back of her mind; She made a conscious effort to push them away. At least, for now. She would let those problems persist in their own world-- One she would eventually come back to, when it was time.

"If only I knew how to play a stringed instrument," She laughed to Pyrrhus, "We could have this entire square dancing!"

Trileon wore a large smile, her dark eyes scanning the immediate area for anyone she might recognize. She couldn't dance alone, surely!

 

[Flutterby]

A choked sound came out of the little dwarf's body, the instant that Desrick touched her. His words were more comforting than he knew, but it didn't stop the rush of emotions. Burgren had called on her when she felt like nothing, had listened to her when she felt she didn't have a voice, had brought the type of fire to his people that she had hoped would set the summerlands ablaze.. They may have only met a few hours ago, but he had placed more faith in her than anyone before, and it had bought him a lifetime of loyalty. If only he had lived to see it.
Desrick left her there, and she stayed until a few half-familiar orcs began to approach. One, a woman, studied her face for a long moment before giving her a deep nod. Ora returned it, but couldn't stand under their gazes for long. She felt almost like an impostor with her grief, not an orc, not even a Cyndaran.
So she turned and looked for Desrick again, but found him standing with Lohr. Being kissed on the cheek by Lohr. The dwarf watched as she approached slowly, not wanting to interrupt just yet. Finally, that piece fell into place. She would have smiled if the circumstances had been even slightly better.
Crispin's voice shattered the moment- Ora watched as Desrick's entire presence changed instantly. Catching sight of the wood elf, Ora felt a flash of relief that he was alive. When Desrick looked at her, she had already set her face and brushed away the moisture from her eyes. Her shoulder had slowed its bleeding, and she hadn't fainted yet, so she would help. She was glad her voice didn't waver when she spoke.
"Let's go then, no time to waste."
~~~~~~~~~~
Ora stood just at the edge of the clearing, neither in nor out of the funeral. She had been invited, encouraged even, to attend, and she did want to. But it felt wrong to fully participate. Funeral pyres, strong words, it was not unfamiliar- the dwarves had their own practices for fallen warriors- but this was an orc matter. So she stood just beyond the first trees, and watched quietly, because it had been suggested Burgren would want her to be there.
The flames grew higher as a song rose up, and Ora closed her eyes. The last three days had been so very trying. They had negotiated for many marks, longer than she had wished, with a bleeding shoulder and swelling wrist. Looking back, she wasn't sure what the result would have been had she not gone- the wood elves had rightfully been extremely angry, and she spent most of the conversations as the voice in between the orcs and Desrick, and the elves. Both parties saw her as a neutral third, surprisingly as someone protecting them all from Sumennan aggression, even though she readily called out the wrongs on both sides. It had been exhausting, and by the end of it, Ora was even more amazed that Desrick had managed to keep a fragile peace for so long. But the treaty that had been signed the day before had been as fair as she could have hoped. She felt it did justice to the words she had spoken to Burgren, that the warrior would have been pleased. And now she would say goodbye to him, and feel free of the burden they had carried. Even with the bad news that they had received that morning, her chest felt lighter than it had in days.

The song died out to silence, and Ora's dark eyes opened as she drew in a deep breath. Not many orcs dispersed so soon, but the one she wanted to see did. Desrick wandered away, hunched under the weight of his thoughts, and Ora took a path around the treeline to intercept him. She moved stiffly herself- her body was still quite sore, the healing hadn't addressed that. But she had finally slept through the night, and bathed that morning, so she looked better than she had in days. Most of her worry had been settled with the signing and the funeral, so when she approached Desrick, her eyes were bright and her face settled into its new normal- calm determination.

"Yesterday, you solved the problem that has plagued you for all your life. Maybe not in the way you had hoped, but it is solved. Surely, that means you can look at least slightly less troubled." Her voice was full of admiration, but also of concern. He was still carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, even though he had friends- some very, very close- that would take some of the burden.
SilverFlight

 

[Mythee]

Falsedge's smile may have been hidden by the metal mask over the lower half of her face, but her eyes did crease with satisfaction at Azaria's arrival. She had, in small part, felt vested in this particular assassin's success in life, death, what have you. Now, "Shadowhand" had made it to Cyndara- and by the way she had dropped the Summenan redhead's name, Azaria had made it clear that she was not covering for Lassard's side. It was a weight off her shoulders, to be sure- Falsedge was more well-positioned than anyone else here to understand that this was not a woman they wanted for enemy.
Azaria was an interesting figure. As an Evereach assassin whose father had been unjustly punished by the hand of Lassard himself, she had, of course, come under the attention of internal investigations- which Falsedge, or Khudalch Ir at the time, was party to. The war djinn had been quick to claim Azaria's file into personal supervision. If there was ever any moment that the assassin's occasional counter-productive bent could have put her loyalty into question, Falsedge had covered those traces.

And now... if she was going to need the trust it takes to convince others out of their naivete, she couldn't pretend they didn't know each other.
"Well there's a sight-"
She hadn't even finished her greeting when an orc burst into the scene, attacking even after the battle had ended. Azaria's hand was swift in bringing him down, merciless as her trade had fashioned her to be. The war djinn's studded brow furrowed as she joked despite the sour taste in her mouth.
"Has anyone ever told you that you make a strong first impression?"
Zazz

The redhead's attention-dodging response to the idea of being questioned elicited a scoff from the ex-Evereach intelligence officer, who wasn't having any of that from Quinn. As if she could distract questions with more questions. "You, a Summenan, whose arrival coincides with the Evereach attack- are garbed like a scout, and move like a scout. Forgive me," sarcasm dripped from her voice as she upturned her hands, "-if this demands an explanation before we can tell you anything."

A man's voice came up in protest to the idea of interrogating this character, giving Fals a double-take when she looked to its source. Eyes dart down, hooves. Eyes dart up, human torso. Rinse, repeat. Well, that's new. But more important matters were at hand than the diverse anatomy of Cyndarans- no, let's not imagine riding him- let's just not-
"Hm." She hung her head low for half a second, then spoke up, having finished up with the mental gymnastics it takes to encounter a centaur for the first time.
"Even Uxul's orcs had no idea who they were dealing with, and you would walk in their footsteps- hoofsteps- fuck. A half horse, half man, is talking to me about appearances. I'm ready to call it a day." She spread two fingers toward her own eyes, then swiveled the gesture to point at Quinn's.
"I've got my eye on you... Jilaina Revess, was it. That what all of you were calling her?" She cast a doubting look the horse-man's way.
SilverFlight mothspit Yatasal Nevina

====

The unfortunate third wheel, Valac, blinked at what was occurring between Desrick and Lohrithe, his mind going blank.
After the orc left his companion, the naga's cheeks were burning red hot with embarrassment for what he'd witnessed as well as his close proximity to it.
"Um... I'm s-ssure you two will make up. And um, juss-st going to s-s-see a healer, later-!"
His tongue had flicked out rapidly several times during those sentences, a nervous tick of his that just made everything worse, and he practically fled the scene.
Zazz SilverFlight

===timeskip===

The teenage naga loved getting festive. Really, he did. In the average celebration, he would probably have been out there, sampling the food, joining in to the music, dancing briefly, and most of all, setting up his wares for sale.
But this time was different.
The result of his earlier scuffle with Uxul had left his beautiful scales scarred, and some missing in unsightly patches. Much of his waxy, rainbow sheen had dulled from the dust and scrapes of combat. There were even bruises and cuts on his upper body, and worst of all, his face. It had left him in a rather dismal mood. The best he could do to keep himself from sulking was to continue helping with reconstruction tasks. The jovial atmosphere did lighten his mood some, but he occupied himself at this time with a broom in hand, using it alongside his tail to sweep any remaining rubble clear from the streets where festive pedestrians may trip and fall.

Anyone

 

[Yatasal]

. "You, a Summenan, whose arrival coincides with the Evereach attack- are garbed like a scout, and move like a scout. Forgive me," sarcasm dripped from her voice as she upturned her hands, "-if this demands an explanation before we can tell you anything."

Quinn's breath caught in her throat, though she maintained a calm demeanor. It was all too clear that there was no reason, no justification, nothing that would explain her place here. Quinn thought quickly, but before she could say or think of anything to respond with, Pyrrhus stepped forward.

"It would bother me." Pyrrhus came to his new friends' defense with an impatient flick of his tail. "Just because we've come out of a battle doesn't mean we can't all be civil. Both these fine people helped put out the fires. If they wanted to run or sit back and watch Delan burn, they had ample opportunity. Or if you're basing your suspicions on Jilaina's Sumennan appearance, I should mention that to me, there is very little to distinguish you both."

"Even Uxul's orcs had no idea who they were dealing with, and you would walk in their footsteps- hoofsteps- fuck. A half horse, half man, is talking to me about appearances. I'm ready to call it a day." She spread two fingers toward her own eyes, then swiveled the gesture to point at Quinn's.
"I've got my eye on you... Jilaina Revess, was it. That what all of you were calling her?"

Quinn just nodded, and watched the group walk away. Eventually she came down from the tree, and helped with some of the wounded and bury some of the dead. There were no Summerlanders to be buried, and she knew nothing of Cyndaran burial rights. But she could follow instructions. After awhile, the paste effect's wore off, as did the centaur's magic. Trileon continued to treat her, although Quinn wasn't sure why. She didn't ask, but part of her wanted to know Trileon's story--how did she come here? Who gave her the name of Forest Mother?

The days quickly passed, blurring all into a continuous cycle of honoring the dead and caring for the living. Quinn got evil looks from almost everyone except Pyrrhus and Trileon, and tried her best to focus on helping those who would accept her help. Mostly it was those who were dead and couldn't say no. Quinn's will to leave strengthened every day, and she wondered why she hadn't simply left yet. She had no reason to stay. Lassard and Evereach would be expecting her back. As of yet, no one had questioned her sudden arrival or what she was doing in Delan, except for that first day. Although Azaria and Falsedge both kept a wary eye on Quinn at all times.

On the third day after Desrick had formed the wood elf and orc treaty, there was an orc funeral. Quinn knew she wasn't welcome to attend, but she found a tall thick tree to hide in as she watched the orcs perform their funeral rites. It was vastly different from the funerals she had been to back home. Not only that, but there was a different air about it. Quinn couldn't describe it, but she only watched for a few minutes before silently making her way back to the village. As a Summerlander, she had always been taught of the brutal, savage ways of the Cyndarans. But after spending three days helping repair and renew Delan, Quinn's heart now felt a twinge of happiness when she saw two children playing. Or a bunch of women chatting about the latest gossip. She had always ignored her Cyndaran heritage, and honestly she had never truly wondered why her grandmother had married a Cyndaran. But now she could see why. There was a certain open simpleness to these people. The Summerlanders were always caught up in politics and intrigue and who-said-what, and there were elements of that here too. But for the most part, the Cyndaran people led and loved the simpleness of life.

Quinn had perched herself in a tree, watching the festivities from behind Pyrrhus and Trileon. Absently she rubbed the cast that Trileon had made for her, and watched the flames absently. Her heart panged when she thought of summer days and running through the city, enjoying the last rays of the sun before it set. This forest was not her home, and Quinn wanted to leave. She should leave. So what was making her stay?

That was something Quinn couldn't answer. She fingered a tiny scroll in her hands. In the small moments between working and sleeping, Quinn had been writing a report of everything that had been happening. It was habit for her to keep a journal of sorts, something to give her boss once she was back. She'd give a verbal report too of course, but it was never a bad thing to keep notes. And yet, Quinn had written very little. And she wasn't sure what information would really be of interest to Evereach, except for the treaty made by the wood elves and orcs.

She tucked the piece of paper back into a secret pocket in her vest, and sighed. She would leave for home tomorrow. At dawn, before everyone else woke up. She'd give her report, and return to her life as a political scout. Everything would go back to normal.

Somehow, she doubted that they ever would.

 

[hwayi]

Very chaotic to say at least. The last days had been very chaotic. Her whole life, she had not seen anything like this. Everything was torn apart and was in the process of being built up again. Nations and groups reconciled, justice was being brought. But Han felt very suspicious of this sudden change. It all seemed to happen without a warning, jumping out of the bushes. Actually, the young lady had no idea what exactly happened. She had heard lots of different variations from travelers like her, how things had gone down in Delan like never before.

She was curious but devastated at the same time. The familiar surroundings of Delan had been destroyed, lives were lost. And she felt like she was being kept in the dark. God, Han never thought she'd be back in this place. The temple, the streets. She had been exiled, but here she was, helping those out who had once betrayed her. She still had some learning to do when it came to forgiveness. Baby steps, it was all baby steps.

The sharp screams of the young child made Han jolt and snap back to reality from her trance. She could see that this little girl was a temple maiden too, based on her appearance and clothing. Although most of the debris was cleared out, graves had been dug and people were celebrating, the citizens seemed to be the ones suffering the most. Perhaps the cause was the shortage of healers, something that sounded odd to the ears of Han. After all, Cyndarans were known to be great healers.

Han touched the wound once again to determine how serious this was. It was not deep at all but quite fresh. Han took pity on the small child and placed her hands on the girl's delicate knee. Dark purple light emitted from her hands, and she could see the terror in the child's eyes flash quickly. But it was all washed away as the wound started printing on Han's knee and disappearing from the little girl's one. The whimpers quieted down soon.

She grit her teeth to endure the pain and simply forced herself to suck it up. There were multiple similar scars on Han's body from earlier instances just like this one. She had been going around and healing people with minor cuts and wounds, transferring the hurt to herself. Once she was done, without saying anything, she stood up, tipped her woven conical hat as a way to acknowledge the little girl and turned away.

Well damn, this made even Han search for some relief. It was just a scrap, but Han never had the greatest pain resistance. She suspected that the girl had slipped while running away, who knows. It seemed that the ones that were treated were the ones who were seriously harmed. Han could only take on small injuries and was picky about whose pain was worth it to take for herself.

She finally found her pipe from the basket on her back, woven from the similar material as her hat. It took her a little rummaging, as her basket was full of lots of useless stuff. Trinkets, interesting rocks, and even a live kitten recovering from what happened earlier.

She filled the pipe with healing herbs that she had picked a few days ago, hoping to ease the pain. She lit it all up and took a long draw. Just as she was ready to relax, the loud noises that she had ignored earlier disrupted her thinking process. Her curiosity got the best of her, and Han's legs started to move towards the ruckus as it drew her in. What was all this fuss about? What were they celebrating? They had just lost so many comrades, you'd think they would be mourning. She wanted to know.


Han was covered in dirt and scars, just as were the rest of these people. Somehow they were still looking oddly happy. Typical for anyone from Cyndara, living their simple lives. She smiled to herself for a split second at her own thoughts, before returning to her natural, neutral face. Han positioned her hat in a way that would conceal her face as she crossed her arms over her chest and followed the happenings.

"I'm exhausted." the woman muttered under her breath as she exhaled once more.

 

[SilverFlight]

Pyrrhus laughed as he did a small skip, all four hooves leaving the ground at once.
"Haha! My dear Trileon, you have but to ask! I should love to teach you the magic of the lute."
As if to emphasize this he completed a complicated series of notes and ended with a strum that would have echoed had it not been swallowed by the fabric of the tents.
"Oh! There's Valac! VALAC!" Pyrrhus raised his voice, waving his arm in an arc above his head--which he didn't need to do, seeing as he stood well above all the heads...and most of the tents too--"Over here!"
Once he'd looked up to see the nagakin he noticed Jilaina as well, sitting by herself on a low-hanging branch. He waved at her too, letting her know she was more than welcome in his company.
mothspit Mythee Yatasal

"I'm exhausted."
The voice was one he hadn't heard before and Pyrrhus looked down to see a young woman, buried under a thick, dark cloak and a straw hat. For these things he couldn't see the injuries she had.
"What? Tired? But I've only just begun playing!"
He gave a sweeping bow, tucking one of his forelegs back as he did so. "Pyrrhus Elantus. At your service. Since you are feeling under the weather, would a request brighten your mood? I've learned many songs from all across Cyndara, chances are I know the one you want."
hwayi

 

[Zazz]

While Pyrrhus brought music to the people of Delan, Azaria sat up in a tree, sharpening the arrows she had collected from their previous targets three days prior. She watched the people below. Her sharp gaze was split between the scout, the war djinn, and the shirtless drow. The scout, for obvious reasons. Khudalch Ir, to see what her purpose was among these Cyndarans. And Lohrithe, for the sake of curiosity. Azaria knew of her father's people, but very little about them. Did all dark elves wear such little clothing? What did the women look like? She wondered if she would be considered small, by drow standards, if Lohrithe was so large and muscular. Would... would they be accepting of her?

Her gaze shifted back to the scout. Of course she wouldn't find a home, here. She was still half Sumennan, after all. Her people had just demolished most of Delan. Trust would be hard to come by.

But what of Khudalch Ir? Or Falsedge, as she had come to be known, here. What a fitting name. If she could find a place, here, with these simple, happy people, surely nearly anyone could.

The drow, meanwhile, chopped wood and helped rebuild, often working with an elf who seemed to be Desrick, the small orc's, adoptive father. Azaria had declined the invitation to stay in the house. Lohrithe did not notice as the ladies of Delan watched with interest at him working.

And while it seemed the assassin stayed put away and to herself, she had been useful; every morning, by the fire, there was a mysterious game bag full of freshly caught wildlife ready for cooking.

 

[mothspit]

Pyrrhus laughed as he did a small skip, all four hooves leaving the ground at once.
"Haha! My dear Trileon, you have but to ask! I should love to teach you the magic of the lute."
As if to emphasize this he completed a complicated series of notes and ended with a strum that would have echoed had it not been swallowed by the fabric of the tents.
"Oh! There's Valac! VALAC!" Pyrrhus raised his voice, waving his arm in an arc above his head--which he didn't need to do, seeing as he stood well above all the heads...and most of the tents too--"Over here!"
Once he'd looked up to see the nagakin he noticed Jilaina as well, sitting by herself on a low-hanging branch. He waved at her too, letting her know she was more than welcome in his company.
mothspit Mythee Yatasal

"Wonderful! Soon we will drown all of Cyndara with our sweet music!"

Trileon followed his eyes over to the sweeping Naga, her eyes lighting up with revelation. Looking into the small pouch on her hip, she remembered something important. Something she made for him with Pyrrhus' help. Similar to the salve she used on Jilaina's arm, this one was designed to help aid the healing of scars. She was so caught up in Pyrrhus' joyous tunes, she had nearly forgotten!

With the clay pot in hand, she waved with it wildly in order to get his attention, "Valac!" She called loudly, making her way over to him by jogging across the square. As she did so, her eye caught Jilaina, giving her a small wave along the way.

Trileon caught up to Valac quickly, leaving a small trail of flower petals from her hair as she did so. She never really had the opportunity to speak to him in all this chaos, but she was very familiar with Nagas-- Well, snakes actually. She had helped heal many injured strays during her time alone in the forest. Her salve was formulated on the same plants and herbs as the ones used for regular snakes, with some of Pyrrhus' magic infused for good measure. If anything could help his injuries, surely it was this.

"Hello there! I do not think we've had the opportunity to chat, but my name is Trileon. I noticed your scars, and I hope this alleviates any pain you might be feeling."

She offered the small pot to him with an open palm. The substance was thick and had a golden shine, with a smell that was abundantly sweet and tarte.

Mythee Yatasal

 

[SilverFlight]

Flutter & Silver collab

((I am so sorry it's very long XD, the last 3 lines should tell you most of what you need to take away from here if you don't want to read this!))

Desrick brightened quickly when he heard the dwarf's voice beside him. "I could not have done it without you." He replied in earnest. "You...and perhaps the fact that we were attacked by an outside force...I can't believe it took something like that to bring a solid peace to my peoples."
He smiled down at her, tusks gleaming in the firelight. "Troubled? Hmm...perhaps...distracted. There is much to distract at the moment...But what about you? Have your injuries been seen to? Pyrrhus wouldn't let us know, but he has worked himself to the bone healing the injured on both sides."
The distant chime of a lute could be heard coming from the square. Desrick shook his head. "He still pretends he had energy to spare, but I think his friends know better."

Ora listened to Desrick's voice with a distant expression, almost missing the words he said because of her focus on his presence. She was seeing him in a new light, now, after all that had happened. Uxul's betrayal, the near destruction of both his homes and peoples, the moment with Lohr in the rain. She knew he was both kind and strong, but both those qualities seemed more nuanced when she looked at him now. She decided it best to address his concern for her first, or he wouldn't let it go.
"I have been healed as much as necessary, I was attended to shortly after the signing. Still sore, especially in the wrist. I will never try to fight an orc as a dwarf again." She listened to the distant sound of Pyrrhus playing with a small smile. "Pyrrhus is a good soul- he's doing his best to help where he can. Its all any of us can do, really." She let that hang for a moment, and then added, "It's certainly all you could do, for the elves and the orcs. You would have brought them together, you had the mind to, you knew the words to say. But I think now.. they would never have given you that chance. It was always going to come to crisis."

Desrick couldn't help but smile at Ora's evasive reply as to her condition. "You answer like an orc." He paused in momentary thought before finishing: "With a little training, you might fight like one too. I'm not a very good teacher, but from what I've seen Falsedge, despite her...disposition, would be worth learning from." He listened as she spoke of the peace they had won. "You know, when I saw you had convinced Burgren to defy Uxul...I almost couldn't believe it. Don't play down your hand in this. You are a remarkable person." He stepped forward, beginning an ambling route back towards Delan. "But I am curious...why did you come to Cyndara? What is it you are looking for?"

Ora bowed her head with a small smile, amused that he had seen right through her non-answer about how she was physically. His comment about Falsedge's presence earned a chortle from her, and a slow nod. It was a very good idea- she had a feeling there were more battles to come.
Desrick's next words set her ears and cheeks ablaze with a blush. 'Remarkable' was the last thing she had ever thought to be called, along with 'beautiful.' Here in Cyndara, she was both. She had started to follow him, but her feet and her mind faltered at his probing question. She had to clear her throat twice before both started working again.
"I had my heart broken, and had no place in that world." She hated the way those words made her sound, like an immature teen run away from home, so she explained.
"The man I fell in love with married someone else. The man who trained me as a smith took on a new apprentice, because he would not pass his shop to me. Those were the only two things I had, after they took my title, so with them gone.. there wasn't much to keep me there. I heard rumors of an expedition, and thought that if I helped, I would be welcomed back a hero. Dwerstand refused to officially send someone to join, so I thought I could get away with coming on my own."
Ora gave a shrug. "It was foolish, really. I probably would have been punished for disloyalty if the court had found out. And now, well.. I've probably been branded a traitor by Lassard."
She turned her face up and gave Desrick a calm smile. "It's alright, though. I don't miss the sun as much as I thought I would."

There was that blush again, was she really so unused to praise? He listened as she told him of her past and his frown grew deeper as she spoke "Ahh, I see." Desrick rumbled pensively when she had finished. There was a short silence as he pulled his words together. "You know, its a good thing this didn't happen in Cyndara...an orc would have demanded a blood price for such slights. And as for being punished..." He patted the haft of his axe, which was jutting over his shoulder from its sheath on his back. "I'd really like to see them try." He shot her a bright grin that told her he'd be happy to break a few skulls if it would do her a favour.
"There are quite a few master smiths in Cyndara." He offered after another pause. "Though...I hope you'll consider a career as a formal peacekeeper." In the next lull Desrick took a deep breath. "The orcs loyal to Lassard have gone to Sumenna...and with a Cyndaran light crystal. I want to go after them but...I'm afraid to ask the others, I don't know what they'll say...what do you say?"

'I see,' Desrick had said, but Ora looked up at him thoughtfully and wondered if he really did. Not bitterly, but truly wondering how much insight he had to what it was like in the summerlands. She returned his smile without hesitation, the full expression feeling only a little strange now. Her heart felt warm in her chest- the offer of protection, the hope she would stay and join his line of work- it only proved that this was a better friendship than she had ever had.

She let the silence blanket them until he broke it again, and then tension formed between her brows. "I heard." Ora thought carefully, and her tone was measured when she responded. "I don't see how we have any choice but to go. However, it is much more dangerous to follow them there, than to confront them here. Everyone, every soldier and citizen, would be against us as soon as they saw us. None of us- the Sumennans- could protect you and the others, least of all myself." She shook her head once. "I worry that it would only lead to our deaths, but I would go with you in an instant."
There was a heartbeat of silence, and then she smiled slyly up at the orc. "As would others, especially Lohr."

Ora had struck a chord with her final words. It dislodged the feigned aura of control Desrick had tied tightly about his emotions. "Ah...that. I'm a fool Ora." His calm and easy smile was gone, the inner turmoil laid bare and obvious on his face. "I can't believe I didn't see it before!" He sighed and put a hand to his forehead. "We were always good friends. We looked out for one another in our youth. Lohrithe was sent to live with my tribe when he was young. I suppose his mother thought living with orcs would toughen him up. But they would have killed him. I had to protect him. Getting too close though...that would have made it all worse...But now we're not tied to the tribe...and then at the battle he..." Desrick felt his face heat, "and then I just walked away!...Why did I do that?!"
He threw his hands out, clearly exasperated with himself. This was the most passionate he had been in a long while and it felt odd. Suddenly he sighed and shot an embarrassed look at Ora. "I'm sorry...I must not be making much sense."

Ora raised an eyebrow at his burst of emotion. She had noticed him avoiding Lohr, but hadn't realized he had pent up so much inside about it. Ora's face relaxed into a small smile, and she shook her head. "You make sense, Desrick, mostly." She walked a few steps without saying anything, and then offered the only words she could think of. "But.. and I'm obviously no expert, skies above, I know the situation is difficult. But.." She didn't wanted to offend him, but frankness was always her friend when it came to murky emotional waters. "But I don't understand why you continue avoiding him." She wavered, and then continued confidently. "I know that how Lohr remains in your life now is a decision, one that could be very big, and complicated. That should be thought about carefully. But your feelings, your heart- whether you share his affection or not- that's not a decision. It just.. is. So why avoid him? Why not at least tell him where your heart lies, even if you don't know what it means?"

Desrick seemed to squirm under the weight of the question. "Because I..." something in him surrendered then and he deflated, broad shoulders sagging. "I'm afraid."
Orcs weren't afraid. Not of anything. That was the way of it. So for Desrick to admit his fear went so against what he had been taught he felt the shame of it immediately, but elves, they were often as free with their feelings as breathing. He decided then, to try and think like an elf. "I'm afraid of telling him...of not telling him...I'm afraid I've already mucked it up...grah! There's so much here..." He grasped the air with his upturned palms, as if trying to fit the fabric of his thoughts into them. "It's hard to know which is the right thing..."

Ora looked up, and her face completely softened. She reached up, placing her hand on his forearm for a moment. She would have put it on his shoulder, like others would, but she couldn't reach without an amount of effort that would make it awkward.
"My friend, I will never fault you for fear. It is one of the most natural things in the world. So is love," She hoped that she had reassured him enough for him to receive her next words well. She let her hand fall away, and then turned her eyes forward again. Delan was beginning to peak through the trees at them.
"As for mucking things up.. As far as Lohr is concerned, well.. He's the most forgiving being I've ever met. I am ashamed to think about how many times I offended him at first, and he was still kind to me." She tossed a smile up at him, but her words were serious.
"I don't think Lohr will hold anything against you, except being dishonest with him."
Ora stopped, and watched the movement in the square with a small smile. "I understand, at least some, the confusion with the feelings. Dwarves aren't very good at them. Sometimes.. it feels like drowning in a sea.. or being yelled at in a language I don't know."
She looked up at Desrick, and sighed fondly. "But you're not going to figure yours out by talking to me. You could try your mother, that magnificent woman, but the best person to help you sort it out.. is Lohr himself." The tiny woman gave him another small, reassuring smile, and added, "Good luck. If something goes badly, we can drink about it later." And then she started toward the village again. Phyrrus's playing seemed like a good way to cheer up after the somber morning.

Desrick listened intently, he was amazed at how she spoke, how everything from her lips seemed to name exactly what he was thinking...and what he was feeling, and she was right of course. Desrick had been so caught up in these new emotions that he'd completely forgotten how forgiving, devoted and patient Lohr was. "I can see how you managed to sway Burgren." He called to her. Her invitation to drink if things went that far south made him chuckle. "Would you help me collect the others?...I need to find Lohrithe."

Flutterby

 

[hwayi]

It was quickly proven that voicing your opinions, emotions, and thoughts aloud was a mistake. Han had learned that the hard way. Someone decided to grab on what she had said to start a conversation. Once again, the young woman snapped out of her trance as she was addressed. She didn't lift her head to see who, or what had greeted her. The limbs of a horse revealed a lot. Sure it could have just been someone that was on a horse, but the way he bent his leg to mimic a bow, she quickly made an assumption. Even if her siblings and herself traveled around Cyndaran terrain together and saw all kinds of species, there weren't many times that she had seen a centaur. Then again, how many times did she see anyone who was not her sibling? The idea depressed her, thinking about her siblings. She quickly shook that idea out of her head. She didn't move as he introduced himself, just carefully listened. You could draw many conclusions out of a name, how a person moved and how they sounded.

She put her hand on her hat once again, ever-so-slightly tipping it. Her arms were covered with multiple wounds from healing others, but she was careful to only reveal her hand. Some may see this as rude, but Han thought of this as a just as proper way greet someone as was curtsying or bowing. Then came the next obstacle. Han knew how dangerous revealing your name was. You could do lots of things with one's name and not all of them were good. She pondered for a while, pausing, before answering.

"Pleasure to meet you Pyrrhus Elantus." her voice was gentle as she spoke to the stranger. It had no malice in it, quite frankly, she sounded just like you'd think someone who has lived under the disciplines of a Goddess for a long time would sound. Han let her arm slide back on her side, refusing to introduce herself unless he'd specifically ask.
"I see that you are a talented musician, Sir, if capable of playing songs from all over Cyndara." she was not trying to test him in any way, she was simply complimenting his skills. She even offered him a tiny piece of a smile that lasted for a few seconds, a record for the lady. Han too had a fine taste in music. She had always leaned towards the arts. Art of healing, art of swords and art of music!

SilverFlight

 

[Yatasal]

Quinn saw Pyrrhus wave to her, and despite herself she gave him a small smile and waved back. The music reminded her of her sisters, and the many times they snuck out of the house to go to one of the parties around time. That memory gave her courage that when Trileon ran by and gave her another wave, Quinn scaled down the tree. She still had to ask Trileon if she'd give Quinn a few pointers on climbing trees... She'd never seen anyone do it so gracefully.

But it appeared that she was busy, calling someone named "Valac". Quinn had learned so many names and faces over the past three days that she could never hope to remember them all. Normally she was good with faces and names, but these were special circumstances. Quinn stepped quietly to Pyrrhus' side, dwarfed by the massive centaur. Quinn was tall by fairy standards, a good four feet tall, but that meant nothing here in Cyndara, where heights varied from four feet to eight feet. Several times she had had to dive to the side to avoid being kicked because an orc hadn't seen her. She clapped along in time to the music, and her smile grew bigger. It had been a long time since she had just listened to music, as opposed to being surrounded by music and trying to gather information from the people around her.

She kept by Pyrrhus' side, knowing full well that she was still getting ugly looks from various people. Fortunately, most of them were too drawn in by Pyrrhus' lute to really pay her any mind. She'd be sad to leave this place--something she'd never thought she'd feel--but there was a simpleness here that didn't exist in Summena. Still, she belonged under the sun, in the golden cities, among the political jungle of intrigue. That was her home. This was simply a mission.

Quinn continued to clap, and when Pyrrhus stopped and turned to someone else, she peeked curiously around him. Standing next to them was a woman who was shrouded by a conical hat. Quinn remembered seeing her around, healing various people. The woman probably didn't remember Quinn, and if she did it probably wasn't out of wanting to get to know Quinn. Rather as the Summenan who should've gone home a long time ago. She tried to catch the woman's name, but she didn't give it. Quinn shrugged and watched the bonfire once again.

 

[SilverFlight]

"I meant for you to request a song for me to play." Pyrrhus laughed.
He glanced over at Quinn and gave her a roguish wink. Clearly delighted to have her near. He'd noticed that some of the reception she had had was less than welcoming, and it had made him a bit protective of her.
"I can play you a jig." He played a few quick, bouncing notes to demonstrate. "Or a ballad?" The next few were slow and melodic. "Or, maybe you'd prefer a march." These notes were formal, precise and rigid. His fingers danced across the strings with expert skill and he was enjoying showing off.
"The music can heal too, slowly, but it does work well if you have many wounded."
Yatasal hwayi

 

[Mythee]

((Zazz Mythee collab))

Though she was keeping passing tabs on 'Jilaina''s location, Falsedge had been to the funeral. She stood silent, solemn, still. It was a good ceremony, honoring both friend and foe that died fighting for what they believed in. It was honest. When was the last time she had believed herself to be in the presence of so many with clear vision? The negotiations were handled expertly, ceding lands back to the orcs, but establishing proper diplomatic ties and communication channels between them and the wood elves- thus achieving a best-case scenario where both parties had put aside their grievances and could walk away with a better life for their people. That is, still with the looming shadow of Summena's unknown intents that could threaten all that had been built. With war on the horizon, Cyndara should be thinking of recruiting part of the populace into defense forces, but militarization would take its toll on their society. There was much to think about, including what role she could play in that equation. On her way up the ladder of her profession, she had experience in training troops. After the ceremony, she moved toward the festivities. Fals was appreciative of the fact that the spirit of Delan's inhabitants was in full recovery. They would need their strength. Not one for joining in, she preferred watching from a distance.
She spotted a figure in... the trees again. Azaria really felt at home in those, didn't she. Falsedge approached her. She wasn't one to care much for small talk either, despite engaging in it often- it was always with purpose. Now, she'd lead in with curiosity, and see if the assassin was about to share any useful information after. Testing the waters, so to speak. "I've noticed you keep staring at the drow. When do you plan on asking him about your father's birthplace?"

Green eyes flickered downward at the war djinn, and Azaria paused in the sharpening of her arrows. The halfling put away her arrows and swung her feet over the edge of her branch, peering down at Falsedge. "When do you plan on introducing yourself properly to your... friends," she shot back, "Falsedge?"

"How do you know," the war djinn spoke in a fake offended tone, armored fingers placed against her chestplate over her heart, "I haven't already told them the truth?" She then shrugged off the question and frowned, putting a stop to her act. "They know I soldiered for Evereach, and that I deserted them. It's accurate enough. I'm telling you this because if you don't let things slip, I don't let things slip. I'm sure you understand." There was no reason to dance around the issue. They knew they had leverage over each other, and if her offerings of hunted game for her 'host family' were any sign, Azaria had an attachment to these people already. "On the topic of identities, 'Jilaina Revess'... what do you know about her? If you tell me something useful, I'll see how I can help with the drow situation."

The halfling merely rolled her eyes at Khudalch Ir's dramatics. It was clear no one knew her true name but Ünentove - Song, that was. No, Azaria looked down at Falsedge with amusement. "Is that a threat? Oh, I'm just trembling." Sarcasm dripped like holey bucket. "Surely you dont think anyone would believe a rebel and a deserter." She knew very well that it was the shaksran who had been covering her tracks back in Everreach; at times, the assassin had purposely left evidence against herself in the hopes that... well, that wasn't important now. But when she got away clean, she started sticking around, say, in a loose vent, to see just who was cleaning up her very precise messes. Azaria dropped from the tree in front of Falsedge without so much as a cracked twig. "She goes by many names. Gillena Horst, Alais Gerrel, Liliana Noss... you name it. She is an Everreach scout. But I don't believe she quite knew what to expect, here."


"Tough nut." Khuda smirked. "True. What was Lohrithe yelling at Uxul like an insult earlier on the battlefield- 'Traitor!' was it. Is anyone going to break it to him sometime that it describes half his allies? Heheh heh." Azaria's silent landing had nothing to envy from a cat. Stealth... it would be beneficial if Cyndarans could learn these skills, as well. It was one thing for hunters to fool an animal, and another thing entirely for one to fool a fortified camp with surveillance. What a pleasant surprise that Shadowhand so readily ratted out the scout's Evereach alliance, though it had been more or less obvious to the ex-intelligence officer already. It would have been better if she would have dropped the scout's real name. She didn't quite know what to expect here, was it. "You talking about yourself?" She made the verbal jab lightly. "But ah, yes, Cyndara. Such a wonderful society, and how very undefended. You should enjoy the festivities while they last." Even the assassin might have something to gain from them, and was probably thinking twice on whether she'd be ready to watch them fall. Either way, Jilaina was the only reason Fals had left not to talk about her past openly. If the scout informed Evereach of her presence, any information she may be able to share with Cyndarans for them to employ against them could entirely lose efficacy. "Pleasure to finally get to talk to you, Shadowhand. Hope I get to stay a fan." Another ambiguous threat- seeking alliance, but warning of opposition should Azaria threaten to support a side of history whose course Falsedge now hoped, ever so slightly, to steer. She winked at the assassin with a brisk tilt of her head and turned back to check up on the others.

 

[hwayi]

Han followed the wink with her eyes, laying her eyes on yet another person. She looked very foreign, and tiny in comparison to the people around her. Even Han often had to be careful not to be stepped over. Some Cyndarans were truly huge. Her eyes lingered on the woman for a while as she registered the features of this lady. Pretty, and definitely from not around here. Immediately Han's subconscious reaction was to cross her arms over her chest in a defensive way. Psht, was she one of them? As she noticed what she had done, she immediately let her arms slide back. If anything, she'd have to be open to anyone new. She was not going to refuse someone due to their birthplace, or whatever set the difference between them. Han believed that they were all connected at their roots. So she cleared her head from any prejudice, she really tried to.

Her attention was grabbed again by the man addressing her. Gee, he really wanted her to make some type of a request. What was it about again? Right, songs. She tapped her chin for a while, tilting her head very slightly to the side. He claimed that he could play all kinds of songs, and they could even slowly heal people. It sounded rather impressive. Han decided to give it a go. She didn't really know where she was exactly from. She liked to think she was the child of the world, born under the sky. In reality, it was just her way to cover up her confusion about her birthplace. She could only guess from her appearance, name and a bunch of vague memories.

Han started lightly humming a song she remembered from years ago. She didn't remember where it exactly was from, but it had always been stuck in her head. "That song." she stopped after a few recognizable notes. She hoped he'd know where it was from, maybe this was a clue?

SilverFlight Yatasal

 

[LazyDaze]

Iolas exhaled with a overwhelming feeling of satisfaction, awkwardly blended with frustration as he took in the cold, damp air of Cyndara. "This was supposed to be routine," he whispered gently to himself, almost jokingly as he admired the patchwork of a brace he had created for what could only be described as a moderately mangled arm. Not to be outdone, pain radiated from two of his cracked ribs underneath his chinked armor. The pain came in waves, but this is something he had experienced before, albeit not often.

Iolas sighed once again as he looked up toward the speckled sea of darkness and relaxed against the soothing luminescent boulder as he viewed Delan from afar. He had hoped to intervene before any of this could happen. Iolas did not witness the battle, but at first glance one could see the worst of it had run its course. Even from afar he wondered if his mind played tricks on him as he saw the light of fire flash through the land. If he were the type of man to curse, expletives would rain down for an eternity as his frustrations reached a climax and subsided just as quickly. He thought of himself as the guardian of Bryn, but what good was a guardian who could not even prevent something as miniscule as a burned city.

Flashback

Days prior to this, Iolas was on a trek to his homeland, Summena. There was no real purpose for this journey since their weren't any signs of battles in the last few weeks. During times like these, Iolas would have to endure the hassle of cities and villages although he would prefer the latter. Despite his feelings toward them they were good places to obtain information, and items that could be useful for his travels. Furthermore, he could spread his peaceful philosophy to those that would hear him. (He was not really welcome in Cyndaran villages.) As he moved across the Half Sun Hills he came across what appeared to be Sumennan activity. Whenever signs of any race appeared in "Gods' country" it was almost never any good. Without hesitation Iolas decided this took precedent over his original plans and preceded to track the group of Sumennans. The trail was almost cold; however, they most likely did not deem it necessary to cover their tracks toward Cyndara since it was their homeland that lay behind them. Iolas had successfully reached Cyndara; more importantly, he had nearly closed in on their trail; however, his success would be shortly lived. After wandering through the dark lands for a bit, Iolas had come across a powerful demon who could practically smell the foreign scent emitted from Iolas. Out of respect for the demon's power Iolas removed his hood and scarf to reveal his face. This only served to anger the demon. The greatest battle never told would take place as Iolas and the nameless demon clashed for days on end. Iolas had no desire to kill the demon, after all Iolas was the one trespassing and probably deserved to be killed for his past transgressions. Even if he had resolved to end his life, Iolas was not completely sure he could.

Although their battle was long, it would be a mistake to assume they fought for such a lengthy time frame. Simply put, Iolas and the demon had many battles which usually resulted in Iolas withdrawing into hiding while the demon found him again. Their final battle resulted in Iolas' mangled arm while the condition of the demon, who was certainly alive, was unknown. Whatever the case, Iolas and the demon had ended their war in a truce for now. Iolas was thankful that the group of Sumennans had not encountered such a creature, even though they were probably up to no good; nevertheless, because of that ordeal Iolas had fallen further behind. Moreover, he was vaguely disoriented since he could not really have time to keep track of his position while he clung to life. He glanced at his right arm once more. It was crudely stitched and tightly wrapped while a couple of sticks were used to keep his arm from moving too much. Iolas slowly rose to his feet and took a moment to recall the taxing battle. Believing he had finally gained his bearings, Iolas pulled his hood over his head and retraced his steps. Eventually he picked up the cold trail which lead to Delan.

Present time

Iolas fixated on Delan for a moment, uncertain of what to do. The lack of screams, and women fleeing out of the city with their children was always a good sign. All things pointed to a clash with the Sumennans, although it is possible it was a dispute amongst themselves. Iolas was fairly certain it was not the latter since Cyndarans were typically diplomatic and internal affairs would almost never escalate to this level. It was an unknown as to how receptive they would be of help from an outsider, let alone a high elf, after a tragedy. Even with his cloak and scarf, he still stood out more than he would like. Iolas knew his limits, he was not a healer, as evidenced by the first aid he performed on himself, and he did not know any magic. However, there was information to be gained from such an event.

"Whatever the cause, I have to find out what happened here. Summrbrynde although I am without your protective sight you are not forgotten and I will be your eyes. Cyndabrynde I ask that your graceful watch falls upon me...please guide me."

It was a prayer that Iolas has always said. The prayer changed depending on what country he was in since he served both gods. With that final prayer Iolas tugged on his hood and scarf once more for reassurance and entered the city, unsure of what to look for, but certain something was here to be found.

 

[Mythee]

Valac looked up at the sound of his voice and waved back to Pyrrhus, smiling politely. Upon Pyrrhus' call he guessed that he was needed for something. The teenage naga began to set his broom aside against a wall so that he could come over. He heard his name being called again by one of the ladies who had shown up to help with the fire- Trileon was her name. The other woman, Quinn, was there too... and others gathered to listen to the centaur playing his music. Having been a little withdrawn since the end of the conflict, Valac hadn't really had much chance to learn more about anyone, Trileon included. He had many concerns occupying his thoughts, and nobody here that he could talk to about it- it was hard to feel himself after everything that had transpired.

Hesitating, he slithered carefully over through the passing crowd, just as Pyrrhus was offering to perform a song at a woman's request- which left him to address Trileon directly. He nodded bashfully at her, passing a hand subconsciously through a lock of his chestnut hair and glancing a little over her shoulder as she spoke to him- that is, until she drew his attention to the poultice in her hands. A gift... for him? "Oh, wow." He received it with sparkle-eyed gratitude, taking it in both hands. The mere fact that someone had done something so thoughtful for him had brightened his face immediately. "That's... so nice. Thank you! You made this?" He seemed eager to give it a try, turning the pot this way and that to see the light catching the golden shimmer of the substance inside.

SilverFlight Yatasal hwayi mothspit

 

[mothspit]

Trileon took a moment to brush a series of stray hairs from her face, swatting away falling flower petals. Now that she had more of an opportunity to take in the sights, she noticed there were others she hadn't had the privilege of meeting yet-- A drow chopping wood, a woman smoking, an orc walking alongside a dwarf -- People who must have gotten lost in the chaos, or involved in a way where they just merely didn't cross paths.

She turned her attention back to Valac. Trileon hadn't encountered many Nagakin in her time, and her fascination was stricken across her face. Her eyes trailed down his tail, to the scars that littered his body. But where others might have seen disgust, she could see only beauty.

Her smiled widened, and with her hands folded neatly on one another, she began slowly rocking back and forth on her heels, "With Pyrrhus's help, but yes. Scars are more tricky to heal, but with this, the process should be simplified down to a few days."

Similar to how he turned the pot to get a better look, Trileon tilted her head to see his scales reflect in the low light of Cyndara. Simply beautiful.

"..Normally you'd wrap the afflicted area, but considering you.." She gestured to his elegant snake body, "Ah.. move around, the poultice is formulated to absorb into the wound. Or at least, that's what I tried to do, haha.."

She rubbed the back of her neck. Similar to Pyrrhus, she had the look of someone who hadn't got much rest in several days; But in a good way. Most of her time had been spent taking care of others, the one thing she found immense joy in. She wore a sheepish smile, accompanied by frizzy hair and sleepy eyes. A nap was definitely in order.

"Don't hesitate to ask for my help if you need it, okay?"

Mythee

 

[Flutterby]

Ora slowed when Desrick called to her, and she looked back over her shoulder. She only smiled, sadly, when he mentioned Burgren. She may have said it nicely, but she still clung to the idea that you couldn't sway people to do things they didn't already desire. She hadn't persuaded him to do anything- just gave him the encouragement needed. But maybe it didn't look that way to others.
She called back, "Go on, I'll take our hooligans back to your house." The dwarf was smiling to herself the entire way down into the square.
SilverFlight
She caught sight of Falsedge first, talking with one of their new.. friends. Azaria, she had overheard Pyrrhus call her. Ora couldn't place what made her uneasy about that woman, but it probably stemmed from both Cyndarans and Sumennans seeming to be familiar with her. Nevertheless, Ora included her with a look when she called to Falsedge as she walked by.
"Falsedge! Need everyone together. At Desrick's house, there's news."
Mythee Zazz
Ora continued down into the square, weaving in and out until she reached Pyrrhus. She waited a moment before speaking, partly to listen to what he was saying and playing at that moment, but mostly because there was the suspicious scout there, and an unknown woman. Ora's hesitation about their presence was rather obvious, but she eventually removed her gaze from them and spoke to Pyrrhus.
"Pyrrhus, I hate to interrupt, but we are needed. I'm hoping to get everyone gathered at Desrick's house." She looked at Quinn again, and then at the stranger. "I suppose.. your new friends could come as well, if you have faith they would be helpful to us." Ora's eyes lingered more on Quinn than the other, before going back up to Pyrrhus. "Grab anyone else you see that I can't catch, please."
SilverFlight hwayi Yatasal
Quickly, she gave a nod and started away- she had made herself uncomfortable with her outright suspicion of Quinn. Even though she couldn't bring herself past it, she had enough manners to feel a twinge of shame at being rude.
Her path took her toward Valac and Trileon, both tall and distinctive enough to see through the crowd. She didn't know the forest-woman's name, so she just yelled for Valac.
"Valac! Bring our new friend to Desrick's. More work to do, I'm afraid." She gave the young being a smile, and then jerked her head in the general direction she was headed in case he wanted to follow.
Mythee mothspit

She would go straight to Desrick's house, so there would be someone there to meet everyone. And, to see if she could beg a snack of Levinia, not that it would be very hard.

 

[SilverFlight]

"Ahhhh, that song." Pyrrhus smiled warmly, "A beautiful choice."
He put his fingers to the strings and pulled the melody out, delicate and slow.

Spoiler: The song

((Since you put the song in my hands, I thought hard about it, and the one that seemed to appeal most was this one. I can't find a good accoustic version, so you'll have to imagine what it sounds like on the lute.
))

As he played the square grew quiet, entranced by the serenity of it: People stopped their conversations, small children ceased squalling, even the animals grew still.
Pyrrhus closed his eyes and let the music take him as it drifted up to a starlit sky. He was so involved with his playing he almost didn't hear Ora come up to them.
The tune faded mid note and he looked up. "Ora! What a delightful surprise." He listened to her and gave a small salute. "Never fear, I'll make sure they stay out of trouble." He shot Quinn a wink and grinned at Trileon too. "I have a feeling I know what's coming: Our placating orc friend is going to ask us to cross the half sun hills..."
Pyrrhus shouldered his lute and began the short walk to Desrick's house.
"Well, we had better go see if I'm right!"
hwayi Yatasal mothspit Mythee Flutterby

The house was quiet. Levinia and her husband were out, only Crispin, Desrick's wood elf brother was there, sitting outside, sanding new beams for the house.

~~~

Desrick had remembered seeing Lohr on the other side of town chopping wood, so that is where he headed. As he entered the village and turned onto the busy main street he was doing his best to think of something to say.
"No...that's awful...I'm sure I'll have figured it out by the time I get--" He was so engrossed in what he was thinking that he ran straight into someone ( LazyDaze ), but for all his bulk it would have been like hitting a wall.
"Oh, I'm sorry I--" He froze as just enough of the scarf fell away for Desrick to see the complexion of its wearer. High elf. But he couldn't draw his blade. Not here. It would cause a panic, or the elf would fight him and innocents would get hurt.
Instead he made a harsh grab for the elf. "What do you think you're doing here? Haven't you Evereach bastards caused enough harm?"
LazyDaze

 

[LazyDaze]

Despite the circumstances, it was a beautiful a city unlike the many tales of old that described Cyndara as an ugly, foul hell. However, this might have actualy been hell for the inhabitants. Iolas slowly sauntered through the streets, trying to learn the entire layout of the city before he made an actual move. He was certain it was a bit to early to throw himself into the relief efforts, and he prized information over anything else in order to circumvent any future attacks like these. Everyone seemed too shell shocked to pay him any attention and it nearly tricked him into believing he belonged here. He tried his best to release the small amount of tension in his steps due to him being in enemy territory, but covertness was not his specialty even after years of experience. He learned a few tricks to get by after all these years; however, he had always avoided entering Delan.

A mother and child stole his gaze a bit longer than he had anticipated. These were the images that seared into his mind and reminded him why he was not somewhere on a plush sofa enjoying the luxuries of sunlight and power. Before he knew it, he had ran into building. ( SilverFlight ). It was strange, because his spatial awareness was usually reliable and running into a building was just about the silliest thing Iolas could imagine himself doing. When he finally looked ahead he was oddly relieved that it was an orc just about his own size, but bulkier.

"Oh...,"

Iolas said softly to himself as he peered back into the eyes of the orc who seemed to warp his default expression of apology into one of fear, anger, and determination. Either way Iolas could tell he had already been found out through that brief interaction. He saw the muscles of the Orc tense up and without warning the orc made a grab for him. It was time for split second decisions to be made. He could fight...maybe survive, even in his condition. He could runaway, and lose the chance of uncovering what had took place here. In fact, almost any action on his part would draw suspicion, especially if he was to draw his Sumennan crafted blades. Taking a calculated gamble Iolas turned to give up his mangled arm to Desrick. Should he take it, Iolas would place his hand on one of his blades just in case. He was comfortable taking a risk because he saw the intelligence behind his eyes. It was almost completely opposite of the innate savagery of the demon that had haunted him the past few days. Call it an act of good faith.

What do you think you're doing here? Haven't you Evereach bastards caused enough harm?" Those words uttered by Desrick illustrated to Iolas most of what he needed to know. Sumennans were here, and they were most likely of the elf variety. Sadly, Iolas was almost desensitized to tragedy at this point. What intrigued was a term Iolas had not heard for a long time, Evereach. Perhaps it was because of his brief connection with them that Desrick's words stung a little bit because they held some truth for Iolas as well. Meanwhile, the pain in his arm started to radiate again. Iolas winced slightly and then reverted back to his blank stare.

"You're not like most orc's, are you?" Iolas paused, only for a moment, to observe Desrick once more. If he was wrong about him, then he might just lose his arm. "Had I been here this would not have happened."

Iolas gave a faint smile of sympathy as he looked into Desrick's eyes as if he wanted to peer into the mind itself. Other than that, Iolas refrained from speaking more than he had to. One of the few things he hated other than himself was wasted time. Coming out to say he was a good guy then proving it would take an eternity, and he did not wish to have a full conversation about how he was a high elf in Cyndara while standing in the main street of Delan.

"We need to talk...somewhere away from the civilians." Using the innocent lives of the civilians might have been the opposite direction to go when gaining one's trust, but it as the quickest way to probably gain a private audience with one of the locals. Even though their encounter had been brief, he could easily see the threat of a cornered Evereach soldier slaughtering those around him weigh on Desrick's mind. Most importantly, with any luck...he would at least let go of what was left of his arm.

Interacting: SilverFlight

 

[Zazz]

Sweaty and sore, Lohrithe set down his tools and took the cup of water a young elven boy had brought for him. He thanked the little one kindly and fished a shiny stone from his pocket - the colour of milky moonlight - for the boy. The drow peered over his drink at the town. There was much work to be done. Sure, the water had put out the fires, but it had also soaked through the wooden structures on the ground. Perhaps if they had stone foundations...

He perked up when he saw a familiar orc; Desrick had been busy with peacekeeping and funerals and whatnot, and Lohrithe had given him his space to do what he needed. But it had been three days since their encounter, and the drow did not know how Desrick felt. It had only been a kiss on the cheek, but there had been so much emotion behind it that Lohrithe was nervous. Desrick had never expressed much interest in anyone, at least not to his friend. Perhaps he did not feel similarly. Perhaps he could not. Lohrithe set down the empty cup and sighed heavily, then made his way over to approach Desrick.

"Friend, may we talk-"

The drow froze at the sight of the Sumennan elf. He looked just like the whiterobes, except... he also did not. Tilting his head to the side, Lohrithe stepped up beside Desrick and asked the man, "Who are you?"

 

[hwayi]

She waited for him to start, and it seemed that he knew that song. At least his voice told her that. He started to play the song, and everything around her seemed to slow down. Everyone was quiet, curious about the tune. Han imagined what else he could do if this was just a little part of his power. The things he could achieve. He could even help her with this! The sense of familiarity in that tune calmed her down. She felt like all the wounds, both mental and physical were gone. That was until he stopped playing. Someone had interrupted him. Han felt the disappointment sink in, he was just getting to the best part! She was determined that she should hear more one day. Who knows what kind of results she could get from that. Maybe she could finally remember. But for now, she had to wait. The universe didn't seem to want her to know just yet. Who else could have sent this woman if not the universe itself? Han caught herself feeling fidgety and annoyed because of this lady.


Ora. That name was restored in of the shelves of Han's mind, pushed into the far back. She had always had a very good name memory, but sometimes had troubles with linking names to faces. She still hadn't revealed her face and had not seen anyone's face either. It was all just voices and...legs. Suddenly they mentioned the word 'half sun hills' and everything lit up in her brain, active once again. She knew very well that you weren't supposed to cross those lands. Then again, they had crossed already. And what had been the divine punishment? A battle with many losses and tears. The man started moving, and Han pondered her options. Either she could go, or stick her nose in someone else's business.


'If I were you, I'd do it.' a honey covered voice suddenly infiltrated her head. Han took a quick glance at her own shadow, it was definitely growing. Here we go again, trouble. She tried to shake the voices off. They were the damned, of course they wanted her to go. She stood there, frozen, occasionally looking at her shadows. Furrowing her brows, she suppressed it. The shadow shrunk back to its original size. Of course, they fed on her emotions, especially the negative ones. She shouldn't have reacted so strongly to Ora. Now she had to pay the price.


'It could stop your suffering. Think about Minh, and your brother.' the voice lingered for a moment until finally leaving. Han moved after the man. The shadows managed to convince her the moment they brought up what was important to her. She quickly ran after him, millions of questions bothering her and waiting to be asked.
"Half sun hills? What do you mean by that? What is going on?" she might have sounded a bit demanding, but there were no bad intentions. The hunger for knowledge was powerful enough to drive her to this point. Asking help from strangers.


SilverFlight Flutterby