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<blockquote data-quote="Lazybones" data-source="post: 7580611" data-attributes="member: 143"><p>Chapter 270</p><p></p><p>The meeting with the tabaxi elders took place at dusk.</p><p></p><p>Bredan could still hardly believe what he was seeing as he and a select cohort of the shipwrecked survivors were escorted to the Hall of Feathers. The tabaxi—they had finally learned the name of their hosts, thanks to Quellan’s <em>tongues</em> spell—lived near the jungle canopy, on platforms erected around the trunks of huge trees. Swaying bridges made of vines and plant fibers braided into ropes connected the platforms. The tree-houses and their connecting “streets” looked fragile, even flimsy, but they supported even Quellan’s weight without difficulty. But it was hard to resist the urge to look down at the forest floor about a hundred feet below them.</p><p></p><p>They had arrived late last night, after a desperate flight from the camp of the dragon-men—dragonborn, the tabaxi called them. The reptilian creatures had not given up their pursuit until they were almost at the edges of the tabaxi city. Their strength had been flagging at that point, and Bredan didn’t know that they’d reached a transition until he’d seen the sudden change that had come over Mrrik. The tabaxi hunter had lifted his arms and let out a fearsome yowl that had Bredan summoning his sword. But he put it away again quickly once he’d heard the chorus of answering cries around and <em>above</em> them. That was the first time he’d seen what the cats could accomplish high up in the trees.</p><p></p><p>Bredan guessed that there had to be at least a few hundred residents in the tabaxi settlement. Most watched them with a mixture of wariness and concern, but there had also been excited growls and even what he assumed passed for smiles among the cat-men. Quellan had told him that tales of their assault upon the dragonborn encampment had spread quickly, and that one of the cats they’d rescued had been a female of some importance in their hierarchy.</p><p></p><p>The Hall of Feathers wasn’t very large by the standards of Arresh, but here in the canopy it looked quite impressive. Curtains made of the material that gave the place its name were drawn wide open by tawny-furred tabaxi at their approach, and they bowed deeply as the companions went inside. In addition to Bredan, Glori, Quellan, and Kosk, the group included Kalasien, Elias, Sond, and Torrin. Xeeta and Rodan had elected to remain behind with the sailors for now. Quellan had healed the sorceress that morning, once he’d refreshed his magical reservoir, but the narrow escape from the dragonborn had taken a lot out of her. Both tieflings had assured Bredan that they trusted him to represent their interests at the conclave.</p><p></p><p>The interior of the hall consisted of one large room. The place wasn’t elaborately decorated, though there was a row of raised seats along the curving wall opposite the entry. The elders, half a dozen aged tabaxi, were waiting for them. Other tabaxi were seated around the perimeter of the room, and they let out a series of sharp growls that Bredan had learned was a sign of approbation as the adventurers came in.</p><p></p><p>The leader of the tabaxi was a gray-haired female called Wind Runner. Seated at her feet on a small cushion, draped in a cloak of feathers that seemed huge on her emaciated form, was her daughter, Dancing Leaf. The effects of her captivity and mistreatment at the hands of the dragonborn still showed on her features, but her eyes were bright and alive as she put her hands together and bowed in greeting. Mrrik stood close beside her, hovering protectively, though he too nodded at the companions. Quellan’s spell had revealed that his name meant, “Clear Eyes,” and as Bredan thought back to the assault and flight from the dragonborn he thought it appropriate.</p><p></p><p>Once they had all been offered cushions and gourds of spiced tea the meeting began. Quellan cast his spell again, allowing him to serve as translator.</p><p></p><p>“Matriarch Wind Runner, we thank you for your hospitality,” Quellan said once the magic had taken hold.</p><p></p><p>The aged tabaxi’s response sounded like growls to Bredan’s ears, but she paused after each statement to allow the cleric a chance to translate.</p><p></p><p>“It is we who are grateful,” she said. “You have taken up arms and risked your lives against our traditional adversaries, and restored our daughter to us.”</p><p></p><p>“We helped each other,” Bredan said. “They took our people as well.”</p><p></p><p>“I apologize for the misunderstanding at the beach, and the injury that was inflicted upon your bonds-man.” Quellan had already done some preparatory work in explaining to the tabaxi who they were and why they were here during the earlier casting of his spell, but it was clear that there would be more questions for them. Bredan had spent most of the day thinking on what he would say at this meeting.</p><p></p><p>“The confusion is understandable,” Glori said. “Our arrival here was unexpected, and we do not share a common language.”</p><p></p><p>“When you saved the life of Swift Climber, then we knew that you were not our enemies,” Wind Runner said. Graaka—Swift Climber—was not present, but he had obviously passed on a detailed account of the fight with the dinosaurs and their subsequent encounter on the way to the dragonborn camp. “We are in your debt,” the matriarch continued. “Your people are welcome to remain here for as long as you wish.”</p><p></p><p>Bredan knew enough to know that was a two-sided arrangement; their presence here would add a potent defense to the tabaxi settlement. Both the cats and the dragonborn were obviously skilled warriors despite their primitive equipment, but magical talent was apparently as rare here as it was back in Arresh. Sond had told them about the aged priest who had interrogated her, and the tabaxi likewise seemed to have some healers among them, but both appeared to lack anyone with the firepower of Xeeta or the potent enchantments and illusions of Glori.</p><p></p><p>“Do you think that the dragonborn will attack here?” Kosk asked, putting Bredan’s thoughts into words.</p><p></p><p>Mrrik bristled at that, his back arching just like a domestic cat’s. “They are welcome to try,” he hissed.</p><p></p><p>Wind Runner gave the warrior an indulgent look, but she added, “We have learned to remain vigilant when it comes to our enemies,” she said. “If they make a move against us, we will know.”</p><p></p><p>“Thank you,” Bredan said. He glanced over at Sond, who was dressed in a new tunic provided by the tabaxi. “We would ask that the crew of our ship be allowed to remain here, for a time at least. Our vessel was completely destroyed when we arrived, and we’ve gathered that we’re too far away from Fort Promise to attempt an overland journey. We’ll probably have to build a new ship.”</p><p></p><p>“The dragonborn may object to such a project,” Mrrik said, once Quellan had repeated Bredan’s words.</p><p></p><p>“Likely,” Kosk said.</p><p></p><p>Wind Runner had kept her eyes fixed on Bredan while listening to Quellan’s recitation. “Your words, they suggest that some of you have another plan,” she said.</p><p></p><p>“That is true,” Bredan said. He quickly looked at each of his companions, confirming their assent, then reached into his pouch and drew out the bronze plaque they had taken from the ancient Syvalian fort further down the coast. They had been able to clean it somewhat, but it still showed its age. “We found this at an old fort that had been built by our people centuries ago,” he said. “It is part of the reason that we came to this continent in the first place, though we had no intent to stop at this particular place.”</p><p></p><p>A soft stir passed through the elders as Quellan repeated his words. “We remember the coming of your people, many generations ago,” Wind Runner said. “They came seeking Savek Vor.”</p><p></p><p>The adventurers shared a look at that, though it was evident from their faces that none recognized the name. “What does that mean?” Quellan asked.</p><p></p><p>Wind Runner lifted her hand and presented her claws, a gesture of negation among the tabaxi. “The origin of the name is not known to us. It is an ancient place, a site of great power. To even speak of it is taboo among our people. We share this information with you because of our debt, but trust that you will not speak of it beyond these walls.”</p><p></p><p>“Of course,” Glori said, even as Kalasien asked, “Why is it taboo?”</p><p></p><p>Wind Runner looked reluctant, but she finally said, “The power that resides there is a thing of shadow. It is a part of the world, but yet not wholly part of it. If you seek it, then I suggest that you ask yourselves this: Is this power not better left undisturbed? What good can come of disturbing it again?”</p><p></p><p>“Then you know what happened, the last time it was disturbed?” Quellan asked.</p><p></p><p>Wind Runner flashed her claws again. “No, not exactly. Our histories say only that the last coming of your people was a time of great turmoil. It is possible that these stories are part of the reason for the violence at our first meeting.”</p><p></p><p><em>Or that Sond’s sailors were trigger-happy,</em> Bredan thought, but he kept his features neutral as he said, “We are here because we were asked to come. We had to come here. There are others who are seeking this power, others that we know wish only evil to come of it. We have fought these others before. I know you have little reason to trust us, but I can only ask you to believe me when I say that we are not here for power or for dominion over others.”</p><p></p><p>Wind Runner nodded once the translation was completed. “I believe you because you have shown us who you are.” She leaned forward and placed one hand upon her daughter’s shoulder. “And because of that, we will show you something.”</p><p></p><p>A few of the tabaxi elders hissed softly, and Bredan got the impression that the matriarch’s sentiments were not universal among their high council. But Wind Runner stood and removed her shawl, revealing a metal disk that she wore on a throng around her neck.</p><p></p><p>“Electrum,” Kosk said, recognizing the material. It had to be old, maybe as old as the bronze plaque, but unlike it the disk bore no obvious signs of wear or decay.</p><p></p><p>Bredan’s focus was on the sigil etched into the surface of the metal. He extended his hand and summoned his sword.</p><p></p><p>Another stir went through the cats, and Mrrik tensed for a moment, shifting slightly in a protective gesture over Dancing Leaf. But he relaxed when Bredan released the heavy blade and offered the hilt toward the warrior. The tabaxi came forward, taking the heavy weapon and showing it to Wind Runner.</p><p></p><p>The matriarch examined the steel, her eyes drawn to the runes that ran down the length of the blade. Those runes had first appeared when he had immersed the sword in the font of magic in the Silverpeak Valley, and since then they had reappeared one by one as his connection to the Elderlore Libram had grown stronger. One of them was the same as the one marked upon the electrum disk. She directed Mrrik to hold the sword up so that the other elders could see.</p><p></p><p>“We are forbidden from entering Savek Vor,” she said, “even on behalf of new friends. But we will show you the way.”</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Lazybones, post: 7580611, member: 143"] Chapter 270 The meeting with the tabaxi elders took place at dusk. Bredan could still hardly believe what he was seeing as he and a select cohort of the shipwrecked survivors were escorted to the Hall of Feathers. The tabaxi—they had finally learned the name of their hosts, thanks to Quellan’s [i]tongues[/i] spell—lived near the jungle canopy, on platforms erected around the trunks of huge trees. Swaying bridges made of vines and plant fibers braided into ropes connected the platforms. The tree-houses and their connecting “streets” looked fragile, even flimsy, but they supported even Quellan’s weight without difficulty. But it was hard to resist the urge to look down at the forest floor about a hundred feet below them. They had arrived late last night, after a desperate flight from the camp of the dragon-men—dragonborn, the tabaxi called them. The reptilian creatures had not given up their pursuit until they were almost at the edges of the tabaxi city. Their strength had been flagging at that point, and Bredan didn’t know that they’d reached a transition until he’d seen the sudden change that had come over Mrrik. The tabaxi hunter had lifted his arms and let out a fearsome yowl that had Bredan summoning his sword. But he put it away again quickly once he’d heard the chorus of answering cries around and [i]above[/i] them. That was the first time he’d seen what the cats could accomplish high up in the trees. Bredan guessed that there had to be at least a few hundred residents in the tabaxi settlement. Most watched them with a mixture of wariness and concern, but there had also been excited growls and even what he assumed passed for smiles among the cat-men. Quellan had told him that tales of their assault upon the dragonborn encampment had spread quickly, and that one of the cats they’d rescued had been a female of some importance in their hierarchy. The Hall of Feathers wasn’t very large by the standards of Arresh, but here in the canopy it looked quite impressive. Curtains made of the material that gave the place its name were drawn wide open by tawny-furred tabaxi at their approach, and they bowed deeply as the companions went inside. In addition to Bredan, Glori, Quellan, and Kosk, the group included Kalasien, Elias, Sond, and Torrin. Xeeta and Rodan had elected to remain behind with the sailors for now. Quellan had healed the sorceress that morning, once he’d refreshed his magical reservoir, but the narrow escape from the dragonborn had taken a lot out of her. Both tieflings had assured Bredan that they trusted him to represent their interests at the conclave. The interior of the hall consisted of one large room. The place wasn’t elaborately decorated, though there was a row of raised seats along the curving wall opposite the entry. The elders, half a dozen aged tabaxi, were waiting for them. Other tabaxi were seated around the perimeter of the room, and they let out a series of sharp growls that Bredan had learned was a sign of approbation as the adventurers came in. The leader of the tabaxi was a gray-haired female called Wind Runner. Seated at her feet on a small cushion, draped in a cloak of feathers that seemed huge on her emaciated form, was her daughter, Dancing Leaf. The effects of her captivity and mistreatment at the hands of the dragonborn still showed on her features, but her eyes were bright and alive as she put her hands together and bowed in greeting. Mrrik stood close beside her, hovering protectively, though he too nodded at the companions. Quellan’s spell had revealed that his name meant, “Clear Eyes,” and as Bredan thought back to the assault and flight from the dragonborn he thought it appropriate. Once they had all been offered cushions and gourds of spiced tea the meeting began. Quellan cast his spell again, allowing him to serve as translator. “Matriarch Wind Runner, we thank you for your hospitality,” Quellan said once the magic had taken hold. The aged tabaxi’s response sounded like growls to Bredan’s ears, but she paused after each statement to allow the cleric a chance to translate. “It is we who are grateful,” she said. “You have taken up arms and risked your lives against our traditional adversaries, and restored our daughter to us.” “We helped each other,” Bredan said. “They took our people as well.” “I apologize for the misunderstanding at the beach, and the injury that was inflicted upon your bonds-man.” Quellan had already done some preparatory work in explaining to the tabaxi who they were and why they were here during the earlier casting of his spell, but it was clear that there would be more questions for them. Bredan had spent most of the day thinking on what he would say at this meeting. “The confusion is understandable,” Glori said. “Our arrival here was unexpected, and we do not share a common language.” “When you saved the life of Swift Climber, then we knew that you were not our enemies,” Wind Runner said. Graaka—Swift Climber—was not present, but he had obviously passed on a detailed account of the fight with the dinosaurs and their subsequent encounter on the way to the dragonborn camp. “We are in your debt,” the matriarch continued. “Your people are welcome to remain here for as long as you wish.” Bredan knew enough to know that was a two-sided arrangement; their presence here would add a potent defense to the tabaxi settlement. Both the cats and the dragonborn were obviously skilled warriors despite their primitive equipment, but magical talent was apparently as rare here as it was back in Arresh. Sond had told them about the aged priest who had interrogated her, and the tabaxi likewise seemed to have some healers among them, but both appeared to lack anyone with the firepower of Xeeta or the potent enchantments and illusions of Glori. “Do you think that the dragonborn will attack here?” Kosk asked, putting Bredan’s thoughts into words. Mrrik bristled at that, his back arching just like a domestic cat’s. “They are welcome to try,” he hissed. Wind Runner gave the warrior an indulgent look, but she added, “We have learned to remain vigilant when it comes to our enemies,” she said. “If they make a move against us, we will know.” “Thank you,” Bredan said. He glanced over at Sond, who was dressed in a new tunic provided by the tabaxi. “We would ask that the crew of our ship be allowed to remain here, for a time at least. Our vessel was completely destroyed when we arrived, and we’ve gathered that we’re too far away from Fort Promise to attempt an overland journey. We’ll probably have to build a new ship.” “The dragonborn may object to such a project,” Mrrik said, once Quellan had repeated Bredan’s words. “Likely,” Kosk said. Wind Runner had kept her eyes fixed on Bredan while listening to Quellan’s recitation. “Your words, they suggest that some of you have another plan,” she said. “That is true,” Bredan said. He quickly looked at each of his companions, confirming their assent, then reached into his pouch and drew out the bronze plaque they had taken from the ancient Syvalian fort further down the coast. They had been able to clean it somewhat, but it still showed its age. “We found this at an old fort that had been built by our people centuries ago,” he said. “It is part of the reason that we came to this continent in the first place, though we had no intent to stop at this particular place.” A soft stir passed through the elders as Quellan repeated his words. “We remember the coming of your people, many generations ago,” Wind Runner said. “They came seeking Savek Vor.” The adventurers shared a look at that, though it was evident from their faces that none recognized the name. “What does that mean?” Quellan asked. Wind Runner lifted her hand and presented her claws, a gesture of negation among the tabaxi. “The origin of the name is not known to us. It is an ancient place, a site of great power. To even speak of it is taboo among our people. We share this information with you because of our debt, but trust that you will not speak of it beyond these walls.” “Of course,” Glori said, even as Kalasien asked, “Why is it taboo?” Wind Runner looked reluctant, but she finally said, “The power that resides there is a thing of shadow. It is a part of the world, but yet not wholly part of it. If you seek it, then I suggest that you ask yourselves this: Is this power not better left undisturbed? What good can come of disturbing it again?” “Then you know what happened, the last time it was disturbed?” Quellan asked. Wind Runner flashed her claws again. “No, not exactly. Our histories say only that the last coming of your people was a time of great turmoil. It is possible that these stories are part of the reason for the violence at our first meeting.” [i]Or that Sond’s sailors were trigger-happy,[/i] Bredan thought, but he kept his features neutral as he said, “We are here because we were asked to come. We had to come here. There are others who are seeking this power, others that we know wish only evil to come of it. We have fought these others before. I know you have little reason to trust us, but I can only ask you to believe me when I say that we are not here for power or for dominion over others.” Wind Runner nodded once the translation was completed. “I believe you because you have shown us who you are.” She leaned forward and placed one hand upon her daughter’s shoulder. “And because of that, we will show you something.” A few of the tabaxi elders hissed softly, and Bredan got the impression that the matriarch’s sentiments were not universal among their high council. But Wind Runner stood and removed her shawl, revealing a metal disk that she wore on a throng around her neck. “Electrum,” Kosk said, recognizing the material. It had to be old, maybe as old as the bronze plaque, but unlike it the disk bore no obvious signs of wear or decay. Bredan’s focus was on the sigil etched into the surface of the metal. He extended his hand and summoned his sword. Another stir went through the cats, and Mrrik tensed for a moment, shifting slightly in a protective gesture over Dancing Leaf. But he relaxed when Bredan released the heavy blade and offered the hilt toward the warrior. The tabaxi came forward, taking the heavy weapon and showing it to Wind Runner. The matriarch examined the steel, her eyes drawn to the runes that ran down the length of the blade. Those runes had first appeared when he had immersed the sword in the font of magic in the Silverpeak Valley, and since then they had reappeared one by one as his connection to the Elderlore Libram had grown stronger. One of them was the same as the one marked upon the electrum disk. She directed Mrrik to hold the sword up so that the other elders could see. “We are forbidden from entering Savek Vor,” she said, “even on behalf of new friends. But we will show you the way.” [/QUOTE]
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