Ladriel sighs and then speaks to Lodric's concerns about Aislinn as Valurel pulls forth the singed parchment. I don't know Erenlander. The Whisper would tell me nothing about the girl, although I sensed an agitation beyond that caused by the other renegades. I will say this for a fact. Something else traveled with the renegades in Erethor. Beyond that, the Whisper would not talk to me. For the first time, I sensed an anger in the woods I did not dare violate. This anger, this agitation, is like the keystone that may cause the landslide, possibly plunging Erethor into a chaotic green hell that even the Elves may not escape from. Something has awoken, whether it for or against the Shadow I am not certain.
As for your companions, Ladriel smiles, they were found last night as the Fell began to stalk the ash plains. They are safe, but probably confused. They were taken in by another Guardian of the Forest that sensed they were not a threat to Erethor. We shall see them soon. And yes, your companions have your weapons.
Only half-listening, Valurel unfolds the parchment looking to see once again the flowing script. To his surprise, the parchment is empty. Turning the parchment over, Valurel cannot find the words that once greeted his eyes the previous day. Scowling, the Elf wracks his mind for some clue to the mystery. Luthorien speaks to Valurel. If that be an elf note, try heating it to reveal the message. If that was found on the ash plains, I am sure it was thought to have been destroyed by the heat. Come. Luthorien leads Valurel to the entrance of the cracked stump of the great, dead oak. In a small stone crevice wedged between gnarled roots, a few glowing coals can be seen. Holding the parchment over the coals, blue, elegant flowing script appears on the parchment. An Elven children's trick to disguise messages. Few, other than Caransil, know its secret. Valurel peers at the High Elven script seeking to understand the meaning.
My Restless Morduni
Proof of Her divinity is at hand! Gather Cerendal and fly to the west with all haste! The goddess’ divine aura has blossomed in a young girl from the north. She is in the hands of insurgents in Baden’s Bluff. One of their number has already bowed to our cause and will spirit her out of the Pelluria port. Journey to the River Orh and its three heads. There you will meet the enlightened, twin-bladed Erunsil Norien. Return to Erethor below the Green March where further instructions will await. We will be the ones to assist Her as she reasserts Her divinity throughout Erethor and Eredane itself! May the blessings of Aradil be with you!
Luthorien, peering over Valurel's shoulder, suddenly grows cold and her jaw muscles twitch in agitation. Rejoin your comrades. I have business to take care of. Stalking over to the group with Ladriel, Valurel shares his find. Ladriel appears startled, but lacks the angry intent of Luthorien. My friends, it seems you have become embroiled in a war of factions as well as that of Shadow. I apologize for Luthorien's anger. She is quick tempered with little patience, but she has seen so many of her people die. Morduni the Wanderer was an extremely skilled Elven Hunter sorceror under Luthorien's command who was apparently lost in an orc raid. I am shocked by the portents of this message, but as friends of the Elves of Erethor, you should be informed. I fear that the Cult of the Witch Queen may be involved, a cult that believes our queen Aradil is more than just an Elf, but a goddess herself. How the Cult could know of the spark of hope in your young girl Aislinn, I do not know. Do they think the Aradil is manifesting through her? I do know that Cerendal, Morduni the Wanderer, and Norien are all Elven warriors well versed in fighting the Shadow. Not only must you contend with agents of High Legates, but you must also contend with religious zealots.
OOC: I am making this public knowledge. Sorry, Toric, if I am revealing knowledge you would like kept secret.
The Heroes' discussion is interrupted by Luthorien's appearance. It looks like your weapons have arrived. With them, you must start gathering supplies and formulate an attack strategy for your journey south. Luthorien nods to the east. Striding out of the forest behind a massive wolf strides the bearded Starhl. Behind, sweating, but smiling, comes Mardo pulling his small wagon. Cyz wastes little time, leaping to her feet, her lithe legs carrying her quickly to Starhl were she wraps her arms around his massive frame.
The Previous Night
Following the wolf through Erethor at night, both Heroes can feel unseen eyes watching their every move. Shadows enshroud the forest, and the calls that issue from the darkness seem less wholesome and welcoming than the bird calls during the day. Finding the path is difficult for Starhl initially, but becomes easier as lightning bugs gather near the path, their flickering glow providing a faint luminescence to follow the wolf and see the trail. The Heroes walk for almost an hour before breaking into an open, rocky promentory that over looks the forest below. The wolf glances back once and sits next to the edge of the cliff looking west. Glancing at what the wolf faces, the Heroes can see the ash plains, a darker blotch against the dark green prairie to the north, stretch south. On the plain, burning points of light shift and dance as the hellfires of the Shadow give rise to unnamed blasphemies that induce a shudder from the Heroes. Further south, against the horizon is a bright, magnificent line. The Burning Line, were Erethor is slowly burned alive by the Shadow's war machine. The wolf glances at Starhl and Mardo, a unique intelligence obvious in its grey eyes, as well as a profound sadness as it watches its homeland burn. Laying down, its female gender revealed, it sets its head between its two front paws and continues to watch the conflagration to the south, its thoughts unknown. It raises its head once to glance at the Heroes, before resting once again.
Starhl and Mardo also sit, waiting the wolf's response. Lethargy slowly settles over the Heroes and both settle into a restful position. Above them, stars peak through the clouds. Slowly eyes close as the frightful race across the plains takes its toll. Dreams in such an enchanted place are to be expected, but not when they are so real...
Mardo and Starhl sit up, because they are alone. The wolf is gone, but the orange glow sheds a faint light on the glade where they rest. Wait! Not alone. Behind them. Above them! Something massive towers...a tree! No, a tree that moves! Bending low, its trunk groaning and creaking, the orange light from the south plays across its gnarled body and broad, oak leaves, revealing an almost human-like, moss-shrouded face. The mouth grumbles and creaks slowly, grating, but reveals words without words. She has awoken, but knows not what she has become. It has been so long since she walked under my boughs, that even I have forgotten her name. Her coming has sparked a hateful blight to the south. It will consume all of Erethor. The dead girl and the Shadow's tracker are our keys to salvation. Seek them, but 'ware the betrayer. Plant the seeds of light where darkness and hate fester... Slowly the world dissolves into clouds, stars, and sky...
When Mardo and Starhl awake the next morning, they find the wolf at the edge of the glade once again staring at them and waiting for them to follow. As they track through the forest, they can only wonder what their dreams meant. But what dreams! So life-like. For several hours the Heroes follow the wolf. Finally approaching a stoney hill, the Heroes arrive in a stone-covered vale with Elven warriors that move to make way for the wolf. Near the remains of a massive oak, Starhl and Mardo spy their comrades. Stopping inside the vale, the wolf looks at the Heroes once more, before plunging into the forest. Mardo moves to his cart to resume pulling when he and Starl spy it: a small, golden-colored acorn settled amongst their comrades weapons of war in Mardo's cart.
