"So from where do you hail, Peerion?" Haelan asked jovially as the companion Stormriders came back into their open chamber. The daelvar hopped up onto a divan of luscious velvet and grabbed some grapes form the bowl beside it.
"It is 'Pirnyon', friend hairfoot. I am a servant of Car'Tyr...the Wind Wizard. My people and I...we?...yes 'we', hail from the mountains called Daegun. My lord and master deemd fit to leav me here to aid in your mission. I have no...doubts?...yes?...doubts that my skills will aid in your cause." the winged humanoid said. He had wrapped his wings down about his shoulders. It gave the image of a jacket or cloak of feathers covering his torso.
"And what skills, exactly are those." Duor said, in his typical way as he plopped himself down on another two-seater divan.
"I am zephari!" said Pirnyon...as if this were or should be, obvious, answer enough.
"It is a great honor to meet one of your kind, Pirnyon. I have never had the pleasure. I have heard great tales of the powers of your people." Alaria said taking a seat in a velvet cushioned chair. An elf attendant came in with a tray of another pitcher and more elfvine. Alaria happily took another glass.
Pirnyon nodded in acknowledgement of the magess' welcome and took a goblet of wine himself.
"I have been tell you are the leader of the company?" Pirnyon said to the magess. "I trust you shall be able to use my skills."
Alaria nodded an understanding of whatever it was the zephari was trying to say. Her mind raced to find the knowledge she had about the winged folk.
They were preternaturally tough and strong. The winged man's lack of armor or clothing was not any sign of vanity or hubris, but because their skin was unnaturally...some would say supernaturally...tough. An armor all its own. His wings, quite obviously allowed him flight. His eagle-like eyes afforded an incredible range of vision...beyond even that of elves. They resisted cold and snow and ice...out of necessity than any special "power" to survive the high peaks where they made their homes...and there were other innate "magical" abilities that Alaria could not fully recall. They were...tribal?...yes, Alaria was sure, in their social affiliations.
"What was your place in your rook, Pirnyon?" Alaria asked. The R'Hathi magess did not doubt for a moment that this would be a wonderful ally to have.
"Rook?...AH! My rookery?! Yes...I am Hunter." the winged man replied. He took a soft fruit from one of the bowls that had been placed in the company's resting aerie.
"Excellent. That should prove most useful." Alaria answered. "Do you know of the dark wizard, Tresahd?"
"I have been learned on. Yes, magess." he answered most assuredly. "You, warrior. You are Braddok kar Barfoth? I have heard tell of your amazing...rising?...from the Grey Lands?! Is that so? It tells unbelievable." he said, very interested, to the Grinlian swordsman.
"It is so, Pirnyon. By the grateful sacrifice of these assembled here...and more." Braddok replied, moved to a moment of melancholy at their companions passing, from which they could NOT return.
"So, yer zepharim...what does that mean, exactly?" Duor asked unceremoniously.
Pirnyon looked at the dwarf in mild confusion. "I am zephari...yes." The winged man wasn't sure what else to say.
"Zephari' is the singular, Duor. 'Zepharim' is the plural." Alaria corrected.
Damned smarty-pants magess. Duor thought to himself. But, no matter, this bloke was hugely muscled, almost more than Braddok, and well-armed. Surely he could slice a few goblinoids to let Duor get to the object of his personal mission. "Yeh know how to use that axe?" the dwarf replied.
Pirnyon drew the axe from his belt. Before any of the Stormriders could protest, he threw it toward Duor. It passed the dwarf's head with a *whish* it sliced through the back of the divan in which he lounged and *thunked* into the thin column behind, nearly cleaving the "pole" (more than "column") clean through.
"Aye, master dwarf. I can use my axe." Pirnyon replied as he strutted across the chamber and pulled his axe from the wood.
The narrow column, twinging in wooden carved vines, close itself as soon as the zephari removed the blade.
"Well...good. Quite good. He'll do." Duor said to the assembled companions...as if they needed his approval.
The companions sat around for the better part of an hour...talking stategy. To their disappointment, Pirnyon held no information about the battle front or any current goings-on there.
A green oval appeared to the edge of one side of the open chamber. Bradok made a move for his weapon, as did Pirnyon, but Alaria calmed them, assured that in the real of the elves no evil could befall them.
From the odd magical portal lept the giant ferrret Buttercream...followed by Fen.
Haelan was ecstatic at the return of the furry rodent. He jumped up and hugged the creature strong around the neck.
*Yeah. Yeah...You missed me so much you left me in the swamp.* Buttercream said to Haelan's ears.
"NO! I mean...well...yes, we did...but you don't understand! There were the lizardmen and then there were wights and a behir and...Oh, I'm so sorry Buttercream." Haelan attempted to explain between tight grips around the ferret's fluffy neck. "We'll never leave ytou behind agaiN! I promise by the Hill Mother's Bread Pudding! How did you...*gasp* Are you magic?!...OH! Fen?!" the daelvar priest exclaimed. His gratitude and excitement practically bubbled over, out of his being.
"Whatever...but nice to see you again also, Hilltender...don't know why...but you make me feel happy." Buttercream replied even as the daelvar was rushing off to give the druid a tight hug around the waist.
Braddok and Alaria rose to welcome the druid.
"Done already, my friend?" Braddok said as he gave the druid a tight grip of the forrearm.
"My needs have been met, yes. What has transpired here? One of the zepharim? I thought we were in the elf-lands?" Fen looked confused at the newest arrival to the Stormriders' band.
Alaria made introductions. The druid and zephari "hunter" seemed to get along almost immediately. "Haelan, " said Alaria, "please convery my happiness and thanks that Buttercream is her with us again, safe." the mmagess asked.
The daelvar cleric translated to which he received an annoying "I understand them just fine! They just don't understand me!" from the ferret.
Mister Meeessh floated his way over to the ferret. "Dohhhn't remember thhhhihsss ohhhnnnn." the mephit said.
Buttercream hissed and took a swipe at the mephit who had gotten a bit too close.
Haelan chastised the ferret and everyone got introduced and was told to get along.
"Right...so we're all friends now...Bully." said Duor non-plussed by any of the new arrivals. "When're we gettin' outta this place? Not gonna stop Tresahd sittin' inna tree!"
"Quite right, Duor." Braddok answered. He looked to Alaria. "Can...I mean...should we go now? Can we go now? We don't even know where the front is." the warrior finally came around to answering his own questions.
"I'm up to my beard in smoked deer meat and this cheese *munch. munch*. S'got no taste! I say we just leave." the dwarf said, hopping up off of the freshly torn divan.
"That would be unadvisible." Alaria said. Pirnyon concurred.
"One does not leave Evandrial without the permission of the lord regent." the winged man said, as if this were the most obvious fact.
"Aw, bloody hells. We have to go talk to HIM again?!" Duor said in apparent disappointment.
"I think a runner will suffice." Alaria said, attempting to calm the dwarf. She got the attention of the attendant and relayed their wishes to depart.
The elf nodded in understanding and left. He...or she...was gone for quite a bit of time. Several more hours passed. The moons were rising. Should they not stay for the "singing of the songs" they had been told about?...and invited to!
"As you said, magess, evil knows no propriety nor slows for any reason." Duor said, trying to quote the magess from their initial audience with the lord regent.
"This is true, Duor, but we don't all share you kind's ability to see in the dark." Braddok said, seeing Alaria's indecision.
"That's true...and I think it would be good for Fen...apologies, Fen...for all of us, to partake of some official ceremony of loss." Haelan added.
Feorn's beard, thought Duor, the damned hairfoot's right...but so am I...we're NEVER gettin' out of this point-ear trap. "As you wish...and yeah...might be nice." the dwarf admitted.
The company, after receiving leave to go when they willed, agreed to stay for the "singing of the songs" of lamentation.
They were ushered, even as the green moon was rising and surpassing the great silver moon, back to the giant hall of the lord regent. There was a throng of elves present now. Their circular ascent up the tree to the hall had not allowed them the knowledge that they were standing, staring out to the east, watching the moons rise.
The chorus of voices rose with two moons. Harmonies, melodies, and individual soloists raised their voices in a sorrow and loss that matched the companions souls. The tears that had flown from Alaria, Haelan and, even Fen, had not come close to expressing the sorrow their ears now heard.
Fen was the only one capable of mixing in with the other's snong...as if something from his soul...words he'd never learned...songs he'd never heard, rose up within him.
While she understood the language, Alaria was unable to join...every time she opened her mouth, the tears and sobs overwhelmd her.
They sang for Erevan, Ryvsorai, son of Eras'ka Aiiri...they sang for Festus, the satyr...or as they sang (if Alaria had the translation correct) the "cousin, born of fey".
Surprisingly to many of the company, a contigent of satyrs was in attendance, blowing their allegedly magical pipes and prancingaroudn in dance...in celebration of the satyr that had been.
Where they'd learned the details of their demise, Alaria could not be sure, but every instance of their lives and adventures together and the specific, awful, details of their death were all sung...for as grotesque the details, as Alaria remembered them all too readily, the tones and undertones and overtones meshed together in a completely cathartic melody and a...a TRIUMPH of their lives...not a hint of their deaths...They made it all sound beautiful...and at the end, all sound free and joyous. She was in complete awe of the music assaulting her ears.
Braddok held her close and even he had tears in his eyes.
Duor wiped several tears, which he staunchly averred were from the "damnable pollen of these damnable trees" before leaving the great hall, his arms, obviously, wiping his eyes.
It was a...Alaria had no other word for it..."glorious" symphony of night. The songs were sung throughout the night...passed the settign of the green moon...passed the dipping of the greater silver moon. To her complete surprise the voices did not stop until the dim blue of morning rose up behind them (in the eastern sky).
Unable to see far from the tears blurring her vision, suddenly, the Lord Regent Seniiris stood before her. He held out a hand to her chin and cupped it. "You are more than friend to the Moonwatchers, magess. You and yours are truly of the old blood."
She gulped back tears and wiped her eyes to see more clearly and make a proper response to the high-vaunted lord of Evandrial. When her eyes were clear, he was not there?! The white of his glittering tunic was simply the white hair of the singing elf before her. She looked, left to right, but was thoroughly confused.
"It is time to go." Fen finally said, coming up to the warrior and magess. "Let us return to the chamber and soon we shall avenge our friends, my kiili, and the satyr, Festus. They have drifting to the moons and shall forever be above us...or with us in the Cycle."
With the druid's aid, Braddok led Alaria out of the great hall. The zephari, Pirnyon, walked softly after them, ushering the complete mess of a sobbing daelvar, Haelan. "All shall be well, Hilltender. All shall be well..." the winged man kept saying.
Where there had been divans and comfortable chairs before, now were several flats of mats and beds. The heroes fell into them and felt sleep grip them immediately. The fight would be there tomorrow, they all..."felt" more than "heard"...tomorrow it starts anew.
"It is 'Pirnyon', friend hairfoot. I am a servant of Car'Tyr...the Wind Wizard. My people and I...we?...yes 'we', hail from the mountains called Daegun. My lord and master deemd fit to leav me here to aid in your mission. I have no...doubts?...yes?...doubts that my skills will aid in your cause." the winged humanoid said. He had wrapped his wings down about his shoulders. It gave the image of a jacket or cloak of feathers covering his torso.
"And what skills, exactly are those." Duor said, in his typical way as he plopped himself down on another two-seater divan.
"I am zephari!" said Pirnyon...as if this were or should be, obvious, answer enough.
"It is a great honor to meet one of your kind, Pirnyon. I have never had the pleasure. I have heard great tales of the powers of your people." Alaria said taking a seat in a velvet cushioned chair. An elf attendant came in with a tray of another pitcher and more elfvine. Alaria happily took another glass.
Pirnyon nodded in acknowledgement of the magess' welcome and took a goblet of wine himself.
"I have been tell you are the leader of the company?" Pirnyon said to the magess. "I trust you shall be able to use my skills."
Alaria nodded an understanding of whatever it was the zephari was trying to say. Her mind raced to find the knowledge she had about the winged folk.
They were preternaturally tough and strong. The winged man's lack of armor or clothing was not any sign of vanity or hubris, but because their skin was unnaturally...some would say supernaturally...tough. An armor all its own. His wings, quite obviously allowed him flight. His eagle-like eyes afforded an incredible range of vision...beyond even that of elves. They resisted cold and snow and ice...out of necessity than any special "power" to survive the high peaks where they made their homes...and there were other innate "magical" abilities that Alaria could not fully recall. They were...tribal?...yes, Alaria was sure, in their social affiliations.
"What was your place in your rook, Pirnyon?" Alaria asked. The R'Hathi magess did not doubt for a moment that this would be a wonderful ally to have.
"Rook?...AH! My rookery?! Yes...I am Hunter." the winged man replied. He took a soft fruit from one of the bowls that had been placed in the company's resting aerie.
"Excellent. That should prove most useful." Alaria answered. "Do you know of the dark wizard, Tresahd?"
"I have been learned on. Yes, magess." he answered most assuredly. "You, warrior. You are Braddok kar Barfoth? I have heard tell of your amazing...rising?...from the Grey Lands?! Is that so? It tells unbelievable." he said, very interested, to the Grinlian swordsman.
"It is so, Pirnyon. By the grateful sacrifice of these assembled here...and more." Braddok replied, moved to a moment of melancholy at their companions passing, from which they could NOT return.
"So, yer zepharim...what does that mean, exactly?" Duor asked unceremoniously.
Pirnyon looked at the dwarf in mild confusion. "I am zephari...yes." The winged man wasn't sure what else to say.
"Zephari' is the singular, Duor. 'Zepharim' is the plural." Alaria corrected.
Damned smarty-pants magess. Duor thought to himself. But, no matter, this bloke was hugely muscled, almost more than Braddok, and well-armed. Surely he could slice a few goblinoids to let Duor get to the object of his personal mission. "Yeh know how to use that axe?" the dwarf replied.
Pirnyon drew the axe from his belt. Before any of the Stormriders could protest, he threw it toward Duor. It passed the dwarf's head with a *whish* it sliced through the back of the divan in which he lounged and *thunked* into the thin column behind, nearly cleaving the "pole" (more than "column") clean through.
"Aye, master dwarf. I can use my axe." Pirnyon replied as he strutted across the chamber and pulled his axe from the wood.
The narrow column, twinging in wooden carved vines, close itself as soon as the zephari removed the blade.
"Well...good. Quite good. He'll do." Duor said to the assembled companions...as if they needed his approval.
The companions sat around for the better part of an hour...talking stategy. To their disappointment, Pirnyon held no information about the battle front or any current goings-on there.
A green oval appeared to the edge of one side of the open chamber. Bradok made a move for his weapon, as did Pirnyon, but Alaria calmed them, assured that in the real of the elves no evil could befall them.
From the odd magical portal lept the giant ferrret Buttercream...followed by Fen.
Haelan was ecstatic at the return of the furry rodent. He jumped up and hugged the creature strong around the neck.
*Yeah. Yeah...You missed me so much you left me in the swamp.* Buttercream said to Haelan's ears.
"NO! I mean...well...yes, we did...but you don't understand! There were the lizardmen and then there were wights and a behir and...Oh, I'm so sorry Buttercream." Haelan attempted to explain between tight grips around the ferret's fluffy neck. "We'll never leave ytou behind agaiN! I promise by the Hill Mother's Bread Pudding! How did you...*gasp* Are you magic?!...OH! Fen?!" the daelvar priest exclaimed. His gratitude and excitement practically bubbled over, out of his being.
"Whatever...but nice to see you again also, Hilltender...don't know why...but you make me feel happy." Buttercream replied even as the daelvar was rushing off to give the druid a tight hug around the waist.
Braddok and Alaria rose to welcome the druid.
"Done already, my friend?" Braddok said as he gave the druid a tight grip of the forrearm.
"My needs have been met, yes. What has transpired here? One of the zepharim? I thought we were in the elf-lands?" Fen looked confused at the newest arrival to the Stormriders' band.
Alaria made introductions. The druid and zephari "hunter" seemed to get along almost immediately. "Haelan, " said Alaria, "please convery my happiness and thanks that Buttercream is her with us again, safe." the mmagess asked.
The daelvar cleric translated to which he received an annoying "I understand them just fine! They just don't understand me!" from the ferret.
Mister Meeessh floated his way over to the ferret. "Dohhhn't remember thhhhihsss ohhhnnnn." the mephit said.
Buttercream hissed and took a swipe at the mephit who had gotten a bit too close.
Haelan chastised the ferret and everyone got introduced and was told to get along.
"Right...so we're all friends now...Bully." said Duor non-plussed by any of the new arrivals. "When're we gettin' outta this place? Not gonna stop Tresahd sittin' inna tree!"
"Quite right, Duor." Braddok answered. He looked to Alaria. "Can...I mean...should we go now? Can we go now? We don't even know where the front is." the warrior finally came around to answering his own questions.
"I'm up to my beard in smoked deer meat and this cheese *munch. munch*. S'got no taste! I say we just leave." the dwarf said, hopping up off of the freshly torn divan.
"That would be unadvisible." Alaria said. Pirnyon concurred.
"One does not leave Evandrial without the permission of the lord regent." the winged man said, as if this were the most obvious fact.
"Aw, bloody hells. We have to go talk to HIM again?!" Duor said in apparent disappointment.
"I think a runner will suffice." Alaria said, attempting to calm the dwarf. She got the attention of the attendant and relayed their wishes to depart.
The elf nodded in understanding and left. He...or she...was gone for quite a bit of time. Several more hours passed. The moons were rising. Should they not stay for the "singing of the songs" they had been told about?...and invited to!
"As you said, magess, evil knows no propriety nor slows for any reason." Duor said, trying to quote the magess from their initial audience with the lord regent.
"This is true, Duor, but we don't all share you kind's ability to see in the dark." Braddok said, seeing Alaria's indecision.
"That's true...and I think it would be good for Fen...apologies, Fen...for all of us, to partake of some official ceremony of loss." Haelan added.
Feorn's beard, thought Duor, the damned hairfoot's right...but so am I...we're NEVER gettin' out of this point-ear trap. "As you wish...and yeah...might be nice." the dwarf admitted.
The company, after receiving leave to go when they willed, agreed to stay for the "singing of the songs" of lamentation.
They were ushered, even as the green moon was rising and surpassing the great silver moon, back to the giant hall of the lord regent. There was a throng of elves present now. Their circular ascent up the tree to the hall had not allowed them the knowledge that they were standing, staring out to the east, watching the moons rise.
The chorus of voices rose with two moons. Harmonies, melodies, and individual soloists raised their voices in a sorrow and loss that matched the companions souls. The tears that had flown from Alaria, Haelan and, even Fen, had not come close to expressing the sorrow their ears now heard.
Fen was the only one capable of mixing in with the other's snong...as if something from his soul...words he'd never learned...songs he'd never heard, rose up within him.
While she understood the language, Alaria was unable to join...every time she opened her mouth, the tears and sobs overwhelmd her.
They sang for Erevan, Ryvsorai, son of Eras'ka Aiiri...they sang for Festus, the satyr...or as they sang (if Alaria had the translation correct) the "cousin, born of fey".
Surprisingly to many of the company, a contigent of satyrs was in attendance, blowing their allegedly magical pipes and prancingaroudn in dance...in celebration of the satyr that had been.
Where they'd learned the details of their demise, Alaria could not be sure, but every instance of their lives and adventures together and the specific, awful, details of their death were all sung...for as grotesque the details, as Alaria remembered them all too readily, the tones and undertones and overtones meshed together in a completely cathartic melody and a...a TRIUMPH of their lives...not a hint of their deaths...They made it all sound beautiful...and at the end, all sound free and joyous. She was in complete awe of the music assaulting her ears.
Braddok held her close and even he had tears in his eyes.
Duor wiped several tears, which he staunchly averred were from the "damnable pollen of these damnable trees" before leaving the great hall, his arms, obviously, wiping his eyes.
It was a...Alaria had no other word for it..."glorious" symphony of night. The songs were sung throughout the night...passed the settign of the green moon...passed the dipping of the greater silver moon. To her complete surprise the voices did not stop until the dim blue of morning rose up behind them (in the eastern sky).
Unable to see far from the tears blurring her vision, suddenly, the Lord Regent Seniiris stood before her. He held out a hand to her chin and cupped it. "You are more than friend to the Moonwatchers, magess. You and yours are truly of the old blood."
She gulped back tears and wiped her eyes to see more clearly and make a proper response to the high-vaunted lord of Evandrial. When her eyes were clear, he was not there?! The white of his glittering tunic was simply the white hair of the singing elf before her. She looked, left to right, but was thoroughly confused.
"It is time to go." Fen finally said, coming up to the warrior and magess. "Let us return to the chamber and soon we shall avenge our friends, my kiili, and the satyr, Festus. They have drifting to the moons and shall forever be above us...or with us in the Cycle."
With the druid's aid, Braddok led Alaria out of the great hall. The zephari, Pirnyon, walked softly after them, ushering the complete mess of a sobbing daelvar, Haelan. "All shall be well, Hilltender. All shall be well..." the winged man kept saying.
Where there had been divans and comfortable chairs before, now were several flats of mats and beds. The heroes fell into them and felt sleep grip them immediately. The fight would be there tomorrow, they all..."felt" more than "heard"...tomorrow it starts anew.