Interlude 1

[Jeff]

The nymph laughs at Belarin's first words. When he finishes speaking, she says, "I have learned more about you since first we met, Belarin Malizia, and I know of your allies in the Twilight Demesne and the task they have given you..." Her eyes linger on the redcap tooth hanging around his neck. "But it is a vague one. It is I who will sharpen your focus."

"Before now your arrangement has been forged of words, intentions, and spells. You may not realize it, but the gifts you have been given—the intercession of the sorceress Raeshara and her redcap friends—come from...further up than you know."

The nymph then holds out her hands, palms facing up, her fingers clasping a small but ornately-jeweled sheath. Its length suggests a blade slightly longer than the average dagger, and the hilt and pommel are of eldritch design, suggestive of a craftsmanship from no mortal race.

"If you desire it, Belarin, your pact will become one of steel and blood, as well. This is no mere weapon, but a forged symbol of your loyalty not merely to those who taught you how to wield your magic, but to Her Majesty's Court. For it is from the Queen of Dusk that your power stems, and it was the Queen of Dusk herself who approved the crafting of this blade and its twin."

Belarin knows what the dagger is, in part, the moment the nymph speaks these words: a pact blade, a weapon forged specifically for a warlock and made to channel a warlock's power. But he's never heard of a pact blade having a "twin."

"When the first dagger was commisioned, one of the Queen's seers advised that a second, nearly identical blade be crafted alongside it, as a counter to the first's intent. This blade"—the nymph draws the dagger half out of its sheath, revealing a glimmering blade marked with mystic sigils—"is that twin."

The nymph withdraws one hand, holding the dagger and sheath out for Belarin. "If you accept this blade, the one who carries the other must die, Belarin. And you will be tasked with the killing. This you will agree to merely because I ask you to do it."

"Finding the one who bears the original blade and why they must die are for you to discover before delivering the final stroke." The nymph's eyes shine with a deadly light, and Belarin knows that a new and perilous responsibility will be laid on him if he acccepts.

The nymph's voice rises, impassioned and angry, somehow both dangerous and desperate. "It is enough for you to know that this warlock has stolen something from me. And I want it returned very much, Belarin. That is what I ask of you."

"If you do this," she goes on, with a softer voice, "if you work to unravel this story, then this blade will grow in power as you do. In time, it is the only thing that may save you from the other."

[Darren]

Kal eyes the blade and unconsciously rocks back on his heels, almost as though he is trying to put distance between himself the weapon. He is not one to enter into bargains with the fey...

[Ken]

Belarin swallows hard as the nymph first starts speaking about the blade. His mind flashes back to the dream vision and his attack from behind. Was that a glimpse of my future? he thinks. But he looks up in surprise at her angry, wounded tone.

"My lady," he says finally, "I accepted a great responsibility the moment I entered the Towering Woods. And I knew that to accomplish my original task, there would have to be death. That hasn't changed. And if the owner of the first blade has caused you some sort of injury, physical or otherwise, then I'm honored that you would give me the role of your avenger."

A mischievous smile sneaks across his lips despite the gravity of the situation. "Besides, I abhor a dull life." He accepts the blade from her offered hands. He stares at it for a full second before saying, "Does the wielder of the first blade know of the twin's existence?"

[Jeff]

As the nymph and Belarin speak, the other fey watching from around the circle—the eladrin, the redcaps, the centaurs—do so with some interest.

"Does the wielder of the first blade know of the twin's existence?"

"The other has only a suspicion," the nymph replies. "When you first use this blade to channel your magic, the other will know. And understand."

[Ken]

"I see," says Belarin. "Well, this should be interesting..." He bows deeply before speaking again. "Thank you for this gift, my lady. I gratefully accept it and the responsibility that accompanies it. What can you tell me about the other wielder?"

[Jeff]

"You must discover the identity and the nature of your foe on your own, Belarin," the nymph answers with a strange smile. "But you will find that your quest, and that of your companions, may run parallel. It is not mere whim that the Emissary wishes to speak with you here, in my woods."

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Note to all: your new weapons have been added to your character sheets (the first item listed under Equipment). Have a look, and let me know in the discussions thread if you have any questions about them.

Your characters don't know the precise properties of the weapons yet, but by the time they use them in battle, they'll have learned.

[Ken]

"As you wish, my lady," says Belarin, intrigued and enchanted despite himself by the nymph's smile. "Before the Emissary arrives and we discuss our ... guest, may I ask about the whereabouts of our companions, the ranger Goran and the dwarven warrior Torhak? Are they well?"

[Joe]

Streko moves closer to Belarin now. "My lady, I, too, would like to know the whereabouts and health of our friends. We have already lost too many now and their health is of great concern to me...and not simply because I bear the Mark of Healing. Are they well?"

[Jeff]

"Before the Emissary arrives and we discuss our ... guest, may I ask about the whereabouts of our companions, the ranger Goran and the dwarven warrior Torhak?

My lady, I, too, would like to know the whereabouts and health of our friends.

The nymph's face grows very serious, and she looks to Streko first. She opens her mouth—

"Therein lies the perfect segue," a voice interrupts. It is the same cultured male voice you heard earlier, bereft of a speaker. From the northeast threshold comes a gust of wind, ushering in the verdant scent of fresh pine. There is a sudden blur of motion as of something small, and then a rustle in the branches just above the portal.

"I am sorry to have kept you all waiting," the voice continues, but only Belarin can understand it.

[Darren]

Kal follows the rustle of wind with his eyes, keeping an easy pose while leaning on his newly enchanted weapon. He remains silent, learning that in dealing with the fey, it is often better to wait and let them speak first.

[Josh]

Grafth's patience persists as they wait for the congress to begin.

[Jeff]

There is another soft rustle and then a diminutive figure drops down from the leaves above and perches upon the lowest branch of the tree. It is a creature the likes of which none of have you have ever seen before.

From the waist up, this small man has the body of an athletic elf, except for the head, which is ovular and bereft of hair. Instead, two antennae sprout from where eyebrows would be, and the eyes themselves are enormous and vaguely insectoid. His skin is light blue, almost gray in this dim light. Below the waist, his folded legs are those of a giant grasshopper, on which he perches comfortably. A quiver of arrows is strapped to his back, and he wears a small blade on his belt. All in all, the fey creature is just about two feet tall, perhaps taller if he were to unfold his legs and stand tall.

He turns his large eyes on your party. "I think it unlikely that you have seen one of my kind before," he says in his cultured voice, which sounds distinctly half-elven. "Though I have on numerous occassions beheld humans, shifters, and halflings not unlike yourselves. I am, therefore to inform you, called a grig. But more to the point, I am Her Majesty the Queen of Dusk's Emissary at this time in your year."

The grig straightens his body as much as he is able, then bows from his perch. With his grasshopper legs already folded like an insect's, the gesture is an unusual sight.

"Correct me if I am mistaken," he continues with hardly a pause. "I am to understand that you are Lord Kalarian of the House of Deneith, Lord Streko of the House of Jorasco, Belarin Malizia, vested ally of the Twilight Demesne, Lady Charis ir'Vanatar of Thrane nobility, and..."

Now the grig pauses a moment, his narrow face unreadable. "Grafth." His face is so small and his lips so thin, but you're fairly certain there is a smile there.

"Is this so?"

Belarin has heard of, an only ever glimpsed, grigs. By human accounts, they're said to be tricksters among the fey, benevolent but not likely to take very much serious. It's curious to him that a grig would become something as esteemed as a royal diplomat. This might just be a very unique one.

[Darren]

Kalarian steps forward and bows. "You have it right, good emissary." Straightening, Kal looks the grig in the eyes. "First, we wish to thank your Queen for the splendid gifts she has bestowed upon us." Kalarian catches sight of himself reflected in the large orbs of the grig's eyes and once again admires the armor he is wearing. "If you are here, I can only assume that your Queen has something more she wishes to discuss with us. We await what you have to say, then, my friend, and then there are things we wish to discuss with you."

[Ken]

Belarin's eyes widen as the grig appears. Clearly, this is not what he expected the Emissary to look like! His gaze darts over to Grafth at the curious pause in the Emissary's question, but he focuses on Kal as his companion speaks in -- what is to Belarin -- a surprisingly diplomatic tone.

He bows along with Kal and says simply, "Yes, thank you and thank the Queen," then waits to hear what else the Emissary has to say.

[Josh]

Grafth returns the emissary's vague smile with an almost imperceptible raised eyebrow.

[Jeff]

"My...apologies, Master Grafth," the Emissary says. "If you possess a more formal epithet, I am unaware of it."

We await what you have to say, then, my friend, and then there are things we wish to discuss with you."

"Humans so curiously hand that word out: 'friend.' And how seldomly its definition applies. Don't misunderstand, I'm sure we'd get along swimmingly, Lord Kalarian, and would be comrades in three shakes of a cockatrice tail, but we've only just met, and in such formal circumstances. I wonder if a few of your wars might be avoided if you race spoke more truly."

Giving Kal no chance to respond, the Emissary goes on hardly without pause.

"As to your absent companions, that is a simple but understandable query. The answers are not so simple. The Mrorian, Torhak, is not here because he did not wish to be. More correctly, he was not invited to this council because his heart did not dwell along your shared road. Interesting fellow, noble spirit. He has been long from his homeland and his heart desired to return there. For agreeing to the requests of the Wood Mistress, we have decided to help him to that end. I hope he was of some assistance to your, in the brief time you shared his company. He spoke highly, but with few words, of you all."

"As to Goran Ys-Il, the Eldeen ranger, there is greater concern. He brought out from Shadowcrest Manor a spirit now inside him, a devil which does belong in council such as ours. You may not realize the peril he is in, for he risks true possession from this spirit of Shavarath. Until it can be raised from his body, the Wood Mistress has agreed to care for him. His heart is already sorrowful, for he was once lovelorn for the dryad Lethea, who was...regrettably destroyed some time ago. It will take an artist such as the Wood Mistress to calm his rage and quell the spirit's power. Goran left his homeland in the Eldeen for reasons not unlike your own, Belarin, and when he is free of this spirit he may set out again."

"I hope these are satisfatory answers."

[Darren]

"They are satisfactory, indeed, Emissary," Kalarian says, winking while placing slight emphasis on the honorific.

"I am happy to see Amal is well," he continues, gesturing towards the Blademark. "May he return with us, now that our task is completed? And what of the psuedodragon that travelled with us? Have you seen him?" Kal still refrains from speaking of Fairhaven, Alvek or Malov, waiting for the right moment.

[Ken]

"Excuse me for a moment." Belarin gently removes the sheathed dagger Skyfang from his belt and gestures to the Wood Mistress. "My lady, since Goran is in your care, may I leave this with you? The blade is a treasured possession of his, and he was understandably reluctant to carry it because of his condition. I'm sure he'd appreciate his weapon waiting for him when he recovers."

If she agrees, Belarin gives her the blade and waits for the Emissary to continue speaking.

[Josh]

"We have all, to some degree, told this council our reasons for arriving here. I assume, also, that the fugue or reverie in which we were placed a short while ago was meant as an inquiry into our resolve. You all certainly know more about my companions and I than we know of one another.

"We have been given extraordinary gifts, and if I may be so bold, I would like to know to what ends we are meant to employ them."

[Joe]

Streko nods, seemingly overwhelmed b everything he is seeing and hearing. His eyes dart back and forth between his friends (and how he wanted to argue about his use of that term with this...insect...grig, yes...) and the emissary.

Is the time here worth wasting? So much to do and so little time to do it in.

Streko indeed takes in a deep breath and, with effort, slowly lets it out. He listens quietly, taking everything in that he can.

[Darren]

Kal's eyes widen as Belarin offers the dagger to the Wood Mistress. He hesitantly places a hand on Belarin's outstretched arm. "Ah, if I may, Belarin," he turns his head briefly to the nymph, "Please, excuse me for a moment, my lady, but," and he turns his eyes back to Belarin, "this dagger, Skyfang, was actually a gift from Lady Korvine of House Deneith. It was given to me and put into Goran's safekeeping." He smiles nervously at the Wood Mistress. "I'm sure you understand, my lady, if I would rather see it returned to House Deneith..."


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Ha! Sorry, Ken. I was going to ask you about it, and then you got all role-playin' on me.

[Ken]

"I believe the term is, oops," says Belarin with sincere regret. "My apologies to you both for the awkwardness. Having known you," he looks at Kal, "and Goran for such a short time, I naturally thought this excellent blade was something Goran had acquired on his own. If it's not the prized possession of his that I assumed, then the fault is mine."

[Jeff]

Neither the nymph nor the grig intervene as Belarin and Kal speak of the dagger, Skyfang. When they have apologized, they resume as if there was no interruption.

"We have been given extraordinary gifts, and if I may be so bold, I would like to know to what ends we are meant to employ them."

The handsome eladrin standing on the east side of the circle immediately says something at this, his language foreign but his tone venemous. Even Belarin can't understand the words; although the language is Sylvan, the dialect is difficult to follow.

At this, the Emissary swivels his head toward the eladrin. "Please use their tongue," the grig says to the eladrin in Sylvan, which Belarin does understand perfectly well. He turns his head and looks at the centaurs as well. "Exceedingly elementary though some of you may deem it. Out of courtesy to the natives."

Then, in Common, the Emissary says to Grafth, "You may be so bold, Master Grafth. Your candor is welcome here. We should come to the point, but first we must all be introduced."

"In attendance at this willful council are....

"An Agent of the Seventh Brother of Night." The grig gestures to the handsome eladrin and the tall green monster-thing behind him. "He represents his liege, who has shown some interest in the movements of Malov."

The Emissary turns and points at the nymph and the redcaps across from him. "The Maiden of Secrets and Mistress of the Wood, and her attendants. She represents Thelanis here in the Whisper Woods."

Pointing at the centaurs, he says, "Representatives of the Whisper tribes. They dwell here on your world, and are chiefly interested in the preservation of this forest."

The grig gestures towards the two as-yet unidentified thresholds. "Others have been informed and invited, out of political respect, but perhaps have not deigned to appear. That is just as well. There may be one or two atomies eavesdropping—who's to say?"

Finally, he taps his own chest. "And I am, again, Emissary of the Queen of Dusk. I am not here to impart—as you say, Lord Kalarian—what my Queen 'wishes to discuss' with you. In fact, her knowledge of this council is quite peripheral. It is one of my duties to decide what matters are to be brought to her attention. This council has no predetermined objective, nor are there, Master Grath, any 'ends' to which you are meant to be employed. Were are here merely discuss common facts. To...compare notes, as humans call it. We have knowledge you may find useful, and you may have knowledge we find useful."

The grig crouches lower and looks at Grafth. "The reveries of which you speak were not mere constructions of ours, Master Grafth. What influence our presence bears on them are without design."

Belarin knows little of the political workings of Thelanis, but he does know that like the mortal world, it is divided into a number of different provinces and kingdoms. There are Nine Brothers of Night, powerful fey lords who each rule a sort of barony of their own. The Queen of Dusk is without a doubt one of the most powerful and well known monarchs in all Thelanis. But there are still more, and how they relate to one another he does not know.

[Josh]

The grig crouches lower and looks at Grafth. "The reveries of which you speak were not mere constructions of ours, Master Grafth. What influence our presence bears on them are without design."

Grafth nods. "I believe I understand, though I am unsure as to wether or not I am relieved by this. I take comfort in that what I experienced was not some sort of trick, but the idea that it was no illusion is... disconcerting."

[Joe]

"Then please, let us begin, for time is short and Malov still runs free and unfettered to cause havoc and despair. Let us compare notes and find a way to destroy the Six-be-damned villain once and for all eternity, Olladra-willing and the gray mists remain still.

[Jeff]

Streko (and everyone else) certainly gets no sense of "hurry" from these fey. And you suspect that getting them to hurry would be difficult, as well. However...

"You are concerned for your sister, Lord Streko." The Emissary nods his tiny head. "Understandable. I would like to tell you what I know, and suspect, about her. It is my belief that she is alive and well, if in terrible company. But we must begin with what we do know and not theorize just yet."

The eladrin, the Agent of the Seventh Brother of Night, speaks up now for the first time in the Common tongue. "I would like to remind you, halfling, that we are not meeting here to unite our banners and wage a personal war against your enemy of choice. There are many foes out there. We are here to talk first. We have agreed to nothing."

[Ken]

May 14, 2009 23:35:31 GMT -4 Jeff said:

The eladrin, the Agent of the Seventh Brother of Night, speaks up now for the first time in the Common tongue. "I would like to remind you, halfling, that we are not meeting here to unite our banners and wage a personal war against your enemy of choice. There are many foes out there. We are here to talk first. We have agreed to nothing."

Belarin's lips tighten as the eladrin speaks. He places a hand on Streko's shoulder. Then he looks at the Emissary and says with a deceptively light tone, "Emissary, now that the perfectly obvious has been spoken, we look forward to hearing your information and your counsel, for which we deeply grateful. I know that conversations like this are rare, and those of us who have been inside Shadowcrest appreciate the importance of the time that you've set aside."

[Joe]

Streko nods approvingly at Belarin's words. "Indeed," he adds, "and while no direct assistance was asked for or expected, it would be appreciated. Also, I am more than happy to offer any information I can provide to you regarding our enemies that I personally know or have heard. Our enemies may not be common at this moment, but they do they do tend to have a dreadful habit of becoming enemies of many others further down The Traveller's wicked path. I wish to not see this occur."

[Darren]

Kalarian turns his head slowly, taking in each of the fey as the emissary introduces them. He listens to the words of his companions, then fixes his eyes on the eladrin. "Very well," Kalarian says at last. "Let's move past the formalities and begin to discuss more important issues." He addresses the Wood Mistress. "First, will you allow Amal to rejoin us?"

[Jeff]

The Wood Mistress looks to Kal, and there is sadness in her eyes. "I had hoped that Amal would remain with me for longer. But your friend, Goran, is in greater need of my help. Amal will return to the land of his birth, but the Whisper Woods will always remain...here for him."

Amal meets Kal's eye. He nods softly, his face unreadable.