*At the others' refusal the back down, Javdak looks for a moment as if he's about to go ballistic. Then the litorian steps forward with quiet words, words that seem to touch Javdak's reason rather than his rage. He takes a great breath in, and then exhales slowly, the anger draining from his face. The winds of Deepstorm seem to slack slightly. Behind Javdak, the party suddenly sees a group of people coming up the passage. They are verrik, wearing robes of white, green, or blue. Around them are auras of power that the other witches in the group immediately recognize. These are also witches, witches of wood, winter, and wind.*
"Well done, guardians," says a white-haired woman in snow-white robes. She is the oldest here, and holds up a hand in respect. Javdak whirls on them, and then sighs, looking resigned. "It was only yesterday we felt the awakening of Deepstorm, and it has taken us until now to get here. We are the witches of Zayob, ancestors of Deepstorm. When it was lost, our conclave remained, but our blood remembered when Deepstorm awoke. We thank you for guarding it from misuse and over-enthusiasm. Perhaps this one would prefer to work with us, instead of taking it for himself," she says softly. However, there is steel underneath the silk of her voice, and it's clear that "working with them" will probably be a way to keep Javdak in line.
"What reward can we offer those that found and protected this place of power?" a younger, black-haired man asks. His robes are green and brown, and he bears a wooden staff.