Arc of Obares, Day 1 LA 99
Sitting cross-legged on the stone hill above the massive ruined oak, Ladriel is lost in meditation. The cooler wind of Obares whips her hair about her, but her eyes remain closed. Around her, massive, weathered stone monuments rise, an ancient dolmen made by unknown hands. The very air seems to hum with power, dangerous power. In the sky above, dark clouds gather as if the sky is angry at Ladriel's instrusion in the stone ring. Still, the dark clouds do not release the life giving rain. Slowy the afternoon drags by...
As shadows begin to gather in the dying day, Ladriel stands quickly and waves to the Elves below. Following Luthorien up the hill, Ladriel speaks, but does not leave the stone ring. My friends, the way is open, but not for long. With the anger sweeping the forest, even the Old Ways seem reluctant to help. Her face grows grim. The Old Ways are dangerous and treacherous. Stay close and do not deviate from the path. Things lurk in another world that we just do not understand. Ladriel motions to the Heroes to enter the stone ring. Reluctantly, the Heroes enter as Luthorien speaks. Find Hope for us all, my friends. Next to Starhl, Cyz stands closely, her breasts brushing against the big man's arm. Focused on the journey ahead, Starhl is startled by something that brushes up next to his leg. A massive wolf. The same from last night. The intelligent eyes bore into Starhl's before turning to Ladriel. He senses your loss, Northman. He has agreed to help. A servant of the Forest. A good omen. Ladriel smiles. Kaela also feels relief with the wolf joining the group, but she cannot help notice the scowl of jealousy that breaks across Cyz's face.
With a nod, Ladriel turns and walks between two tall stones...and disappears. With deep breaths, the Heroes follow...
A gray and bleak world in twilight surrounds the Heroes. Gone is the green forest of Erethor with is tall hills and deep valleys. Now, tall shadowy mountains tower above ther Heroes. Gone are the oak and maudrial, replaced by tall fir and pine. Ladriel stands awaiting the Heroes, her voice seeming to cover great distances, yet her form only feet away. Follow the path before us, but do not deviate. I do not know how long our journey will be, for the path changes every time we tread it.
The journey winds through forested mountains, with still, silvery lakes silent in the valleys. Dark, hulking shapes skulk at the edges of vision, tempting the Heroes. Kaela is sure she saw Aislinn's mother and father hiding in the trees above the rocky shore of a deathly still lake. Starhl swears the mournful call of the Wolf from months past called to him in a steep mountain valley. Lodric almost left the path, hearing the mournful cries of his sister.
How long the journey lasts is unknow, but as the shadows gather and the ghostly shapes draw dangerously close to the path, the Heroes steep into the brilliant green of Erethor once again. Ladriel smiles at all the Heroes. The Heroes stand in a shallow, stone strewn vale dominated by large oaks; to the west is a large stone ridge, rocky bluffs forming a bulwark facing east. Above the Heroes, a huge maudrial tree stretches high above the canopy and titled, vine covered menhirs stand near to where the Heroes appear. We have traveled almost two hundred miles in the span of one night. We are close to the Darkening Wood. Elven Hunters guard the southern edge, hopefully preventing entry of Aislinn's abductors into that dark wood. Why they would travel there, I would rather not find out. We should make camp here. This is a place of power to the Elves, a bastion in the defense of our forest.
As the Heroes prepare for rest, Ladriel stands quickly. The Whisper...evil intentions nearby. Something comes...to intercept us. The forest is in pain.
A dull roar sounds to the east, just beyond the eastern lip of the bowl-like vale before it descends. Nearby, shadows begin to flit through the green gloom from tree bole to tree bole and tree branch to tree branch. Ladriel urges the heroes to take cover, before calling out in a mix of hisses and whistles. Twenty yards away a Caransil Hunter steps out from beyond an oak, his bow nocked with an arrow. Jogging over, the Caransil shakes forearms with Ladriel and speaks in High Elven, Well met, Whisperer. He is covered in blood, none of it his own. He turns to the Heroes. I am Cullenwe. Your quest is known to us, and others as well. A Shadow forces has penetrated Erethor and has set an intercept course for this vale. It seems your path is known to the Shadow as well. My hunters have harrassed the orc and ogre berserkers. They are heavily armored leaving the forest graping in their wake. We make our final stand here with your aid. If we fail here, our bastion of power will be lost, and a gap in the already stretched thin Caransil defenses could rend, unraveling the Caransil defenses. Will you aid us?
Sitting cross-legged on the stone hill above the massive ruined oak, Ladriel is lost in meditation. The cooler wind of Obares whips her hair about her, but her eyes remain closed. Around her, massive, weathered stone monuments rise, an ancient dolmen made by unknown hands. The very air seems to hum with power, dangerous power. In the sky above, dark clouds gather as if the sky is angry at Ladriel's instrusion in the stone ring. Still, the dark clouds do not release the life giving rain. Slowy the afternoon drags by...
As shadows begin to gather in the dying day, Ladriel stands quickly and waves to the Elves below. Following Luthorien up the hill, Ladriel speaks, but does not leave the stone ring. My friends, the way is open, but not for long. With the anger sweeping the forest, even the Old Ways seem reluctant to help. Her face grows grim. The Old Ways are dangerous and treacherous. Stay close and do not deviate from the path. Things lurk in another world that we just do not understand. Ladriel motions to the Heroes to enter the stone ring. Reluctantly, the Heroes enter as Luthorien speaks. Find Hope for us all, my friends. Next to Starhl, Cyz stands closely, her breasts brushing against the big man's arm. Focused on the journey ahead, Starhl is startled by something that brushes up next to his leg. A massive wolf. The same from last night. The intelligent eyes bore into Starhl's before turning to Ladriel. He senses your loss, Northman. He has agreed to help. A servant of the Forest. A good omen. Ladriel smiles. Kaela also feels relief with the wolf joining the group, but she cannot help notice the scowl of jealousy that breaks across Cyz's face.
With a nod, Ladriel turns and walks between two tall stones...and disappears. With deep breaths, the Heroes follow...
A gray and bleak world in twilight surrounds the Heroes. Gone is the green forest of Erethor with is tall hills and deep valleys. Now, tall shadowy mountains tower above ther Heroes. Gone are the oak and maudrial, replaced by tall fir and pine. Ladriel stands awaiting the Heroes, her voice seeming to cover great distances, yet her form only feet away. Follow the path before us, but do not deviate. I do not know how long our journey will be, for the path changes every time we tread it.
The journey winds through forested mountains, with still, silvery lakes silent in the valleys. Dark, hulking shapes skulk at the edges of vision, tempting the Heroes. Kaela is sure she saw Aislinn's mother and father hiding in the trees above the rocky shore of a deathly still lake. Starhl swears the mournful call of the Wolf from months past called to him in a steep mountain valley. Lodric almost left the path, hearing the mournful cries of his sister.
How long the journey lasts is unknow, but as the shadows gather and the ghostly shapes draw dangerously close to the path, the Heroes steep into the brilliant green of Erethor once again. Ladriel smiles at all the Heroes. The Heroes stand in a shallow, stone strewn vale dominated by large oaks; to the west is a large stone ridge, rocky bluffs forming a bulwark facing east. Above the Heroes, a huge maudrial tree stretches high above the canopy and titled, vine covered menhirs stand near to where the Heroes appear. We have traveled almost two hundred miles in the span of one night. We are close to the Darkening Wood. Elven Hunters guard the southern edge, hopefully preventing entry of Aislinn's abductors into that dark wood. Why they would travel there, I would rather not find out. We should make camp here. This is a place of power to the Elves, a bastion in the defense of our forest.
As the Heroes prepare for rest, Ladriel stands quickly. The Whisper...evil intentions nearby. Something comes...to intercept us. The forest is in pain.
A dull roar sounds to the east, just beyond the eastern lip of the bowl-like vale before it descends. Nearby, shadows begin to flit through the green gloom from tree bole to tree bole and tree branch to tree branch. Ladriel urges the heroes to take cover, before calling out in a mix of hisses and whistles. Twenty yards away a Caransil Hunter steps out from beyond an oak, his bow nocked with an arrow. Jogging over, the Caransil shakes forearms with Ladriel and speaks in High Elven, Well met, Whisperer. He is covered in blood, none of it his own. He turns to the Heroes. I am Cullenwe. Your quest is known to us, and others as well. A Shadow forces has penetrated Erethor and has set an intercept course for this vale. It seems your path is known to the Shadow as well. My hunters have harrassed the orc and ogre berserkers. They are heavily armored leaving the forest graping in their wake. We make our final stand here with your aid. If we fail here, our bastion of power will be lost, and a gap in the already stretched thin Caransil defenses could rend, unraveling the Caransil defenses. Will you aid us?