Jon Potter
First Post
Hairy Minotaur said:This was just lying around?
Hey, I had to look under the sofa cushions to find that.
And while I was in there, I found the following little tidbit...
-
NOW LIVE! Into the Woods--new character species, eerie monsters, and haunting villains to populate the woodlands of your D&D games.
The Realms of Enlightenment: The Grey Companions
- Thread starter Jon Potter
- Start date
Hey, I had to look under the sofa cushions to find that.
And while I was in there, I found the following little tidbit...
Jon Potter
First Post
Meanwhile, back at the Grove of Renewal...
A few solitary hours went by before Morier felt like he had to cast Quick Boost and drink the first of his healing potions. It was nearly frozen from the cold, but the curing slush tasted like ambrosia on his tongue.
An hour later the two sunrods winked out plunging him into cold, wet darkness. He almost cried out in despair as the last dying glow faded away.
An hour after that he again cast Quick Boost and cracked open the sixth of his remaining healing potions. Two hours after that he was on his fifth. Barely an hour later he was drinking his fourth. Another two went by and he was on the brink of death. Two of the remaining three draughts pulled him back from death's door, however temporarily.
Leaving him five hours from the portal's activation with only one cure light wounds potion left in his potion belt.
He clutched the last vial and looked at it intently. It represented his only real chance of surviving. He didn't feel like his spells were having any noticeable affect on his condition. The healing draughts were all that stood between him and oblivion and this was the last one. When it was gone it would be just him and the storm.
He uncorked the potion with chattering teeth and slurped down the cure, savoring the warm sensation of healing as it hit his belly and spread outward to his extremities. He was afraid that it might be the last warm thing he felt before he found himself too soon beyond the veil.
"After I've returned to dust, the wind will still howl and the lightning will still sing," he muttered. He'd heard that somewhere or read it in one of his father's many books. Here, facing the wind as a very real enemy, the words seemed particularly apt. Prophetic even.
He thought again of what he'd told Feln: "'Nobody will remember you as a hero for sitting in a snowbank waiting to die; they will think you a fool for not leaving when you had the chance."
Despite the grim circumstances, he had to laugh at himself.
Time passed. Hours maybe. Or minutes. It was hard to say in this sunless hell. But Morier was quite certain that time was passing. For a while he had been able to keep time with the throbbing pain in his bootless foot, but that had long since moved to first a painful prickling and thence to a dead numbness.
Numbness seemed to be settling in all over, and it was only with some effort that he reached out a hand to stiffly pat his cold, old friend, the dolmen. He huddled close to the stone megalith, snuggling the cold rock like a lover. Praying for the portal to open. Willing it to open and whisk him away from this lingering death. He was so tired. So very tired.
"Dalharuk-dobluth," they called him. Or "vlos-yibin". Their words like daggers dripping poison. He remembered being cut by them many times before his parents took him to be killed. If he once knew the words' meanings, he'd blissfully forgotten them. But the biting sting of those words he remembered all too well.
Had he fallen asleep? Perhaps it was dumbness that was settling in, not numbness. Falling asleep in a blizzard was death. Pure and simple. He had to stay awake. Awake and focused on overcoming this challenge. But he was so tired.
He closed his eyes to give them some relief from the biting wind.
And let oblivion take him.
A few solitary hours went by before Morier felt like he had to cast Quick Boost and drink the first of his healing potions. It was nearly frozen from the cold, but the curing slush tasted like ambrosia on his tongue.
An hour later the two sunrods winked out plunging him into cold, wet darkness. He almost cried out in despair as the last dying glow faded away.
An hour after that he again cast Quick Boost and cracked open the sixth of his remaining healing potions. Two hours after that he was on his fifth. Barely an hour later he was drinking his fourth. Another two went by and he was on the brink of death. Two of the remaining three draughts pulled him back from death's door, however temporarily.
Leaving him five hours from the portal's activation with only one cure light wounds potion left in his potion belt.
He clutched the last vial and looked at it intently. It represented his only real chance of surviving. He didn't feel like his spells were having any noticeable affect on his condition. The healing draughts were all that stood between him and oblivion and this was the last one. When it was gone it would be just him and the storm.
He uncorked the potion with chattering teeth and slurped down the cure, savoring the warm sensation of healing as it hit his belly and spread outward to his extremities. He was afraid that it might be the last warm thing he felt before he found himself too soon beyond the veil.
"After I've returned to dust, the wind will still howl and the lightning will still sing," he muttered. He'd heard that somewhere or read it in one of his father's many books. Here, facing the wind as a very real enemy, the words seemed particularly apt. Prophetic even.
He thought again of what he'd told Feln: "'Nobody will remember you as a hero for sitting in a snowbank waiting to die; they will think you a fool for not leaving when you had the chance."
Despite the grim circumstances, he had to laugh at himself.
Time passed. Hours maybe. Or minutes. It was hard to say in this sunless hell. But Morier was quite certain that time was passing. For a while he had been able to keep time with the throbbing pain in his bootless foot, but that had long since moved to first a painful prickling and thence to a dead numbness.
Numbness seemed to be settling in all over, and it was only with some effort that he reached out a hand to stiffly pat his cold, old friend, the dolmen. He huddled close to the stone megalith, snuggling the cold rock like a lover. Praying for the portal to open. Willing it to open and whisk him away from this lingering death. He was so tired. So very tired.
"Dalharuk-dobluth," they called him. Or "vlos-yibin". Their words like daggers dripping poison. He remembered being cut by them many times before his parents took him to be killed. If he once knew the words' meanings, he'd blissfully forgotten them. But the biting sting of those words he remembered all too well.
Had he fallen asleep? Perhaps it was dumbness that was settling in, not numbness. Falling asleep in a blizzard was death. Pure and simple. He had to stay awake. Awake and focused on overcoming this challenge. But he was so tired.
He closed his eyes to give them some relief from the biting wind.
And let oblivion take him.
Jon Potter
First Post
Morier's Water Walk
He awoke with his foot on fire. Which was odd because he could clearly hear the cavernous echo of water dripping all around him. With superhuman effort he opened his eyes and saw that he was no longer on the mountaintop. He was lying on an unworked stone floor in a domed cavern. The place smelled of the sea. It wasn't very large; he could clearly see the opposite side of the chamber with his darkvision.
He was also glad to note that he wasn't truly on fire. But the exposed flesh on his left foot was a most unpleasant color. Frostbite, he assumed although he'd never actually seen it before firsthand. He tried wiggling his toes and was rewarded with a thousand stabbing needles of pain and some slight movement.
Despite the agony, he was encouraged by the movement and he pushed himself wearily into a sitting position to better survey the room.
The majority of the cavern was dominated by a pool of emerald green water such as Morier had seen on the coast of the Tyredemia. The pool was some sixty feet across surrounded by a ten foot ring of stone floor from which the walls rose up to the vaulted ceiling. Water trickled down from above in a light but steady shower. Behind the spot where Morier had awoke was a dolmen - the only one that was anywhere in sight. Apparently he'd fallen through from one test to the next, completing the test of air while unconscious. He laughed at the absurdity of it and his laughter filled the chamber with echoes.
Before the sound had faded, something broke the surface of the pool, bursting up from below. It was a woman of sorts with skin the same deep green as the pool, and kelp-like hair that hung down passed her shoulders and covered one emerald eye. Her head alone was nearly as tall as Morier and the elf could only guess that her height most have been over twenty feet. She remained submerged apart from her head and shoulders, however, so what existed below the water line was purely conjecture on his part.
“Here, mortal, you must prove yourself able to meet the challenges presented by water,” she said and her voice was both beautiful and alien. “The test is simple. The portal is underwater, and a very challenging swim for an ordinary man. From the edge of the pool where you now sit, swim 20 feet straight down. There is a completely submerged tunnel that is 10 feet in diameter. The tunnel runs for 300 feet. At its end is the fifth and final portal, which automatically lets you and whatever you carry pass through, if you are alive. If you die, the currents here are such that your body shortly returns to the surface of this pool. And the test will be over.”
Morier let this information sink in and did some quick mental calculations. He wasn't at his best mentally, having slept little in the last day and what little he got was under less than optimal conditions. But, unless his calculations were off, he placed his chances of successfully completing this challenge somewhere in the nether regions between slim and none. He sagged back against the dolmen and sighed in frustration.
"Do you understand this challenge?" the giant asked and Morier nodded.
"May I rest a while?" the albino asked. "I have withstood the test of fire, the test of earth, and the test of air, but am physically depleted from the toll they have taken on me." The giant woman nodded in understanding.
"The test of water begins when you enter the pool," she told him.
"I thank you," he said and spent a moment stretching his aching body out into a more comfortable position. But he never took his eyes off the giantess in case she tried to disappear as the other Keepers had. But she did not, she merely stood in the pool and regarded him with her sea green eyes. "I have entered the Grove of Renewal at the bequest of the Great Oak," he told her once he was reasonably comfortable. "I am the lone remaining hope for a group of adventurers who seek to free Dridana and stem the tides of evil that Aphyx has set upon the the Realm."
"We Keepers possess the knowledge to reunite The Earth Mother's heart with her body," the giantess said. "I will share it with you if you wish. Once you complete the Purging."
"That information is why I have come here in the first place," Morier explained. "But I fear that my chances of completing the test of water are not good. I beg of you, is there any information you can give me that will assist me in this task or enable my companions and I to continue our quest?"
The Keeper considered for a moment and nodded. "I can take you to the portal myself if you wish it," she said at last and Morier's heart nearly leapt from his throat at her words.
"Yes! Yes!" he exclaimed. "That's what I-" She forestalled him by raising one massive hand in a silencing gesture.
"There is a price for such assistance, however," the Keeper said. "You must divest yourself of all these trinkets and baubles with which you adorn yourself. Leave them here and exit the Grove as you entered the world. That is the price for my help." The albino raised one eyebrow.
"Do I have this right?" Morier began, careful of any misinterpretation. "You will lead me out in exchange for all of my belongings?"
"That is correct," the giantess replied with a nod. Morier jerked into motion at once, shrugging off his backpack even as he worked his way to his feet.
"These material posessions are insignificant in comparison to the possible good that could come from my completion of the Purging," he said, tossing his potion belt aside and beginning to work at the clasps binding his wrist sheathes in place. "I would gladly sacrifice them in such an exhcange."
"Do you still wish to rest?" the Keeper asked as Morier tossed his wands to the floor.
"Is there more danger ahead?" the albino replied as he undid his scroll organizer.
"Not if you behave as you have so far in the tests," the giantess answered. "If you attack me I will defend myself. And you will die." The eldritch warrior chuckled darkly at that.
"Believe me," he said humbly, "I have no intention of attacking you." He pulled his tunic off over his head, revealing grey scar tissue that covered most of his torso like an intricate web.
"Then come," she said holding out her large arm. "The answers you seek are at hand.
He awoke with his foot on fire. Which was odd because he could clearly hear the cavernous echo of water dripping all around him. With superhuman effort he opened his eyes and saw that he was no longer on the mountaintop. He was lying on an unworked stone floor in a domed cavern. The place smelled of the sea. It wasn't very large; he could clearly see the opposite side of the chamber with his darkvision.
He was also glad to note that he wasn't truly on fire. But the exposed flesh on his left foot was a most unpleasant color. Frostbite, he assumed although he'd never actually seen it before firsthand. He tried wiggling his toes and was rewarded with a thousand stabbing needles of pain and some slight movement.
Despite the agony, he was encouraged by the movement and he pushed himself wearily into a sitting position to better survey the room.
The majority of the cavern was dominated by a pool of emerald green water such as Morier had seen on the coast of the Tyredemia. The pool was some sixty feet across surrounded by a ten foot ring of stone floor from which the walls rose up to the vaulted ceiling. Water trickled down from above in a light but steady shower. Behind the spot where Morier had awoke was a dolmen - the only one that was anywhere in sight. Apparently he'd fallen through from one test to the next, completing the test of air while unconscious. He laughed at the absurdity of it and his laughter filled the chamber with echoes.
Before the sound had faded, something broke the surface of the pool, bursting up from below. It was a woman of sorts with skin the same deep green as the pool, and kelp-like hair that hung down passed her shoulders and covered one emerald eye. Her head alone was nearly as tall as Morier and the elf could only guess that her height most have been over twenty feet. She remained submerged apart from her head and shoulders, however, so what existed below the water line was purely conjecture on his part.
“Here, mortal, you must prove yourself able to meet the challenges presented by water,” she said and her voice was both beautiful and alien. “The test is simple. The portal is underwater, and a very challenging swim for an ordinary man. From the edge of the pool where you now sit, swim 20 feet straight down. There is a completely submerged tunnel that is 10 feet in diameter. The tunnel runs for 300 feet. At its end is the fifth and final portal, which automatically lets you and whatever you carry pass through, if you are alive. If you die, the currents here are such that your body shortly returns to the surface of this pool. And the test will be over.”
Morier let this information sink in and did some quick mental calculations. He wasn't at his best mentally, having slept little in the last day and what little he got was under less than optimal conditions. But, unless his calculations were off, he placed his chances of successfully completing this challenge somewhere in the nether regions between slim and none. He sagged back against the dolmen and sighed in frustration.
"Do you understand this challenge?" the giant asked and Morier nodded.
"May I rest a while?" the albino asked. "I have withstood the test of fire, the test of earth, and the test of air, but am physically depleted from the toll they have taken on me." The giant woman nodded in understanding.
"The test of water begins when you enter the pool," she told him.
"I thank you," he said and spent a moment stretching his aching body out into a more comfortable position. But he never took his eyes off the giantess in case she tried to disappear as the other Keepers had. But she did not, she merely stood in the pool and regarded him with her sea green eyes. "I have entered the Grove of Renewal at the bequest of the Great Oak," he told her once he was reasonably comfortable. "I am the lone remaining hope for a group of adventurers who seek to free Dridana and stem the tides of evil that Aphyx has set upon the the Realm."
"We Keepers possess the knowledge to reunite The Earth Mother's heart with her body," the giantess said. "I will share it with you if you wish. Once you complete the Purging."
"That information is why I have come here in the first place," Morier explained. "But I fear that my chances of completing the test of water are not good. I beg of you, is there any information you can give me that will assist me in this task or enable my companions and I to continue our quest?"
The Keeper considered for a moment and nodded. "I can take you to the portal myself if you wish it," she said at last and Morier's heart nearly leapt from his throat at her words.
"Yes! Yes!" he exclaimed. "That's what I-" She forestalled him by raising one massive hand in a silencing gesture.
"There is a price for such assistance, however," the Keeper said. "You must divest yourself of all these trinkets and baubles with which you adorn yourself. Leave them here and exit the Grove as you entered the world. That is the price for my help." The albino raised one eyebrow.
"Do I have this right?" Morier began, careful of any misinterpretation. "You will lead me out in exchange for all of my belongings?"
"That is correct," the giantess replied with a nod. Morier jerked into motion at once, shrugging off his backpack even as he worked his way to his feet.
"These material posessions are insignificant in comparison to the possible good that could come from my completion of the Purging," he said, tossing his potion belt aside and beginning to work at the clasps binding his wrist sheathes in place. "I would gladly sacrifice them in such an exhcange."
"Do you still wish to rest?" the Keeper asked as Morier tossed his wands to the floor.
"Is there more danger ahead?" the albino replied as he undid his scroll organizer.
"Not if you behave as you have so far in the tests," the giantess answered. "If you attack me I will defend myself. And you will die." The eldritch warrior chuckled darkly at that.
"Believe me," he said humbly, "I have no intention of attacking you." He pulled his tunic off over his head, revealing grey scar tissue that covered most of his torso like an intricate web.
"Then come," she said holding out her large arm. "The answers you seek are at hand.
Hairy Minotaur
Explorer
ya know, nobody ever asks for help. Did Morier's player let the others know they might've all passed had they asked for help?
or was this more along the lines of "needed assistance" ?
or was this more along the lines of "needed assistance" ?
Jon Potter
First Post
Hairy Minotaur said:
Yes, he let them know how he did it, but this is the first time they'll have to read how the exchange actually went down.
And it wasn't really made clear (since I didn't write it up for the boards) but both Feln and Morier got through the test of earth simply by asking the trean gaurdian what the password was. So Morier's plea wasn't exactly without precedent.
Hell no! I gave him plenty of opportunities to back out and he chose to press on. If he'd chosen to do the same thing here and try to swim, then the dice would have fallen where they fell. And barring some kind of minor dice miracle Morier would have ended up floating face down in the pool.
I don't like to kill characters off arbitrarily, but character death is part of the game. And if you push on in the face of explicit DM warnings... well then there's always another character concept to try out, isn't there?
I mean, I killed off my own wife's character twice! What chance did Morier have?
Jon Potter
First Post
Morier's Water Walk, part 2
Without a second look at his piled possessions - items gifted to him by his father and others earned with blood shed on the field of battle - Morier stepped awkwardly out of his breeches and into the cool green water.
The Keeper clasped him beneath one arm like a mother and he clung to her like a child. Then she plunged beneath the surface and hurtled through a tunnel that seemed very cramped with the giantess in it. If it was indeed 300 some feet to the fifth portal, then the giantess must have been capable of phenomenal speed in the water; the journey took less than 15 seconds. Then the portal was ahead of them and she pushed him through.
He fell out into the hellish cavern where he'd begun the Purging. It was hot, of course, and seemed doubly so after the frigid day spent on the mountaintop during the test of air. But that wasn't the first thing he noticed. The first was that his foot no longer hurt - in fact nothing hurt any longer. He looked down and saw that his feet and toes had assumed their normal hue and the injuries he'd sustained in the fire and earth tests were healed as well. Even more startling were his chest and abdomen; they were free of scars. He ran his slim fingers across his pale flesh tracing designs cut into his flesh at childhood - designs that were no longer there.
"You are as you were meant to be," the giantess' voice spoke from above. He looked up to see that she stood nearby, her glistening green flesh steaming in the heat. "You are as nature intended."
"Thank you..," he said and his voice sounded tiny and distant to him as he looked at himself as if for the first time.
"There is power within you, mortal," the Keeper told him. "You have harnessed it to walk the path of air, but we are as much at home on the ocean's floor as we are in the mountaintop storm." Morier looked up at her again.
"I don't understand," he began. "What do you-"
"If it is the will of the Green, you will learn these answers for yourself in the fullness of time," she explained, her loud voice easily drowning his own. "But for now, you came here for answers and I will give them now." She reached down and touched Morier's forehead and his world went black; all that was left was the Keeper's voice.
"Aphyx ripped Dridana's heart from her chest and imprisoned its essence inside a gemstone of immense size. Her body, the goddess of filth cast into the void where it drifts still. The gem she plunged into a mountaintop. Using her divine powers she tore that mountain asunder and set it adrift in the skies and warded the gemstone against all who would approach it."
"But her powers are not absolute, and we Keepers, Dridana's most powerful servants, were able to craft four keys that would breach Lady Rot's defenses. These keys we hid away in a pocket not unlike the Grove itself, apart from the Green but linked to it. Each key grants its wielder great power over one of the four elements. And each key must be brought to bear to free Dridana's heart."
"Once the heart is reunited with the body, the Fruitful One will be reborn. And great and terrible shall be her wrath."
The Keeper withdrew her hand and Morier's world returned to him. He was dimly aware of a tugging within his head as if two invisible forces were pulling his senses in separate directions. He knew without being told that one was the direction leading to the keys and the other pull would lead him to the heart.
"This is the knowledge for which you came here," she said. "Use it as you will. You may step back through the portal to return from whence you came."
Morier knelt there, so thoroughly humbled by his experiences that mere words failed in thier attempt to expess his feelings. He wanted to thank the last of the Guardians, but he seemed somehow so small that he couldn't possibly conjure the words. His thanks would be imperceptible in the grand scheme of things.
He looked toward the Keeper and said, "I am only a single humble warrior, but please know that you have filled me with the desire to use what miniscule powers I have to do as much good as I am able."
"Each of us has their role to play," the giantess said with a reassuring nod. "Whether for good or ill, each serves their purpose and plays their role. Your role in the coming times may be pivotal or miniscule, as you say; it is a page yet to be written. Go, and remember well the lessons you have learned here."
"The gift of the Purging will remain with me forever," Morier said, and he was somewhat surprised by the truly heartfelt assertion. The world seemed so much larger now than it had when he entered the Grove... however long ago that was. He rose and turned toward the portal, placed his hand on the dolmen and stepped through...
...back into the Termlane Forest where he was struck at once by the lush beauty of the place. Verdant green was everywhere, pressing wetly against his senses; sunlight gilded each leaf, as if a troupe of faerie artists had painted them with gold; an overarching vault of brilliant azure sprawled above all. It was all more beautiful than he'd remembered.
The second thing he noticed was that it was breezy.
After the parching heat of the volcanic chamber, the cool, moist air felt downright chilly given his over-exposed condition. Gooseflesh crawled across his body as an involuntary shudder took hold of him. He clutched his shoulders and stepped out into a shaft of sunlight, letting Orin's Shield warm him.
There was no sign of Ledare or Feln - or any of the others for that matter. He hoped that they'd made it out of the Grove alive after leaving him in the Test of Air. Nearby he spotted three modest cairns set apart from the forest in a small area cleared of underbrush. The memorials hadn't been erected very long ago, he surmised; the woodland hadn't even begun to reclaim the tiny clearing of flattened plants.
There were no names associated with the cairns, but he could guess at who they were commemorating. Which meant that Ledare and Feln had indeed returned safely from The Purging...
... and they thought he was dead.
Without a second look at his piled possessions - items gifted to him by his father and others earned with blood shed on the field of battle - Morier stepped awkwardly out of his breeches and into the cool green water.
The Keeper clasped him beneath one arm like a mother and he clung to her like a child. Then she plunged beneath the surface and hurtled through a tunnel that seemed very cramped with the giantess in it. If it was indeed 300 some feet to the fifth portal, then the giantess must have been capable of phenomenal speed in the water; the journey took less than 15 seconds. Then the portal was ahead of them and she pushed him through.
He fell out into the hellish cavern where he'd begun the Purging. It was hot, of course, and seemed doubly so after the frigid day spent on the mountaintop during the test of air. But that wasn't the first thing he noticed. The first was that his foot no longer hurt - in fact nothing hurt any longer. He looked down and saw that his feet and toes had assumed their normal hue and the injuries he'd sustained in the fire and earth tests were healed as well. Even more startling were his chest and abdomen; they were free of scars. He ran his slim fingers across his pale flesh tracing designs cut into his flesh at childhood - designs that were no longer there.
"You are as you were meant to be," the giantess' voice spoke from above. He looked up to see that she stood nearby, her glistening green flesh steaming in the heat. "You are as nature intended."
"Thank you..," he said and his voice sounded tiny and distant to him as he looked at himself as if for the first time.
"There is power within you, mortal," the Keeper told him. "You have harnessed it to walk the path of air, but we are as much at home on the ocean's floor as we are in the mountaintop storm." Morier looked up at her again.
"I don't understand," he began. "What do you-"
"If it is the will of the Green, you will learn these answers for yourself in the fullness of time," she explained, her loud voice easily drowning his own. "But for now, you came here for answers and I will give them now." She reached down and touched Morier's forehead and his world went black; all that was left was the Keeper's voice.
"Aphyx ripped Dridana's heart from her chest and imprisoned its essence inside a gemstone of immense size. Her body, the goddess of filth cast into the void where it drifts still. The gem she plunged into a mountaintop. Using her divine powers she tore that mountain asunder and set it adrift in the skies and warded the gemstone against all who would approach it."
"But her powers are not absolute, and we Keepers, Dridana's most powerful servants, were able to craft four keys that would breach Lady Rot's defenses. These keys we hid away in a pocket not unlike the Grove itself, apart from the Green but linked to it. Each key grants its wielder great power over one of the four elements. And each key must be brought to bear to free Dridana's heart."
"Once the heart is reunited with the body, the Fruitful One will be reborn. And great and terrible shall be her wrath."
The Keeper withdrew her hand and Morier's world returned to him. He was dimly aware of a tugging within his head as if two invisible forces were pulling his senses in separate directions. He knew without being told that one was the direction leading to the keys and the other pull would lead him to the heart.
"This is the knowledge for which you came here," she said. "Use it as you will. You may step back through the portal to return from whence you came."
Morier knelt there, so thoroughly humbled by his experiences that mere words failed in thier attempt to expess his feelings. He wanted to thank the last of the Guardians, but he seemed somehow so small that he couldn't possibly conjure the words. His thanks would be imperceptible in the grand scheme of things.
He looked toward the Keeper and said, "I am only a single humble warrior, but please know that you have filled me with the desire to use what miniscule powers I have to do as much good as I am able."
"Each of us has their role to play," the giantess said with a reassuring nod. "Whether for good or ill, each serves their purpose and plays their role. Your role in the coming times may be pivotal or miniscule, as you say; it is a page yet to be written. Go, and remember well the lessons you have learned here."
"The gift of the Purging will remain with me forever," Morier said, and he was somewhat surprised by the truly heartfelt assertion. The world seemed so much larger now than it had when he entered the Grove... however long ago that was. He rose and turned toward the portal, placed his hand on the dolmen and stepped through...
...back into the Termlane Forest where he was struck at once by the lush beauty of the place. Verdant green was everywhere, pressing wetly against his senses; sunlight gilded each leaf, as if a troupe of faerie artists had painted them with gold; an overarching vault of brilliant azure sprawled above all. It was all more beautiful than he'd remembered.
The second thing he noticed was that it was breezy.
After the parching heat of the volcanic chamber, the cool, moist air felt downright chilly given his over-exposed condition. Gooseflesh crawled across his body as an involuntary shudder took hold of him. He clutched his shoulders and stepped out into a shaft of sunlight, letting Orin's Shield warm him.
There was no sign of Ledare or Feln - or any of the others for that matter. He hoped that they'd made it out of the Grove alive after leaving him in the Test of Air. Nearby he spotted three modest cairns set apart from the forest in a small area cleared of underbrush. The memorials hadn't been erected very long ago, he surmised; the woodland hadn't even begun to reclaim the tiny clearing of flattened plants.
There were no names associated with the cairns, but he could guess at who they were commemorating. Which meant that Ledare and Feln had indeed returned safely from The Purging...
... and they thought he was dead.
Jon Potter
First Post
Naked and Alone
Morier paused long enough to fashion himself a makeshift loincloth of vines and leaves. The garment wouldn't win any of the fashion contests that the bards were always going on about, but it afforded him a degree of modesty and right now that was all he cared about. That and finding his companions to disprove any suppositions about his death.
He glanced about, determined the direction back to the Aronerai School, and set off through the trees.
The goblins looked at him queerly as he stood in his rude skirt outside the thorny wall that hedged in The Great Oak. In comparison, their clothing of animal pelts seemed like finery. He shook his head, glad for the moment that his friends weren't here to see him.
As he pondered this thought, he got a prickling on the nape of his neck that he recognized at once. He was being scryed. It took only a moment to locate the sensor - a wavering, ocular distortion in the air above him - but there was nothing he could do to prevent the voyeurism.
'Perhaps,' he thought, 'it's father checking up on me.' But that seemed unlikely. It was certainly within Angwyn's power to divine Morier's location if he chose to, but remote viewing wasn't the man's style. At least, not any more. He'd be more likely to teleport here directly than to scry for any length of time... and he was very unlikely to teleport anywhere.
More likely it was one of their enemies. A potent mage had served alongside the werebats in the caves outside Strenchburg Junction. It was foolhardy of the VQS to think that their actions against Aphyx would go unnoticed for-
"Great Oak say you come now," Nigoulickit croaked, snapping Morier's attention away from the sensor and back to the hedge, which was now opened to him.
"Get a good look..." Morier growled up at the sensor. "You'll be seeing me again." Then he turned and stalked down the thorny tunnel to speak with The Great Oak.
"I humbly thank you for offering all of us the gift of the Purging," Morier said to The Great Oak once preliminary greetings were complete and the Eldritch Warrior had detailed his experiences with the Grove of Renewel.
"I am not so sure that Vadenhuffer T. Briarhopper and Ixin of Clan Vermillion would share with your gratitude," the Great Oak sighed. "Their experiences in the Grove were less pleasant than yours." Morier paused and bowed his head.
"I regret that those two did not make it through, but my own survival has afforded me information that may be critical to the cause that my companions seek," the elf said after a moment. He was unashamed of his success where the others had failed. His victory within the Grove may well have turned the tide of their conflict with Aphyx. "The keys to Dridana's freedom are within our grasp, but I must find Ledare and Feln. The three cairns at the entrance to the Grove must mean that they think I did not survive the Purging. Do you know what they intended to do upon leaving this spot?"
The Great Oak's leaves rustled for a moment. "They left yesterday morning heading south," the tree spoke into his mind. "They make for Pellham to uncover the source of the disturbance I sense growing there."
"Yesterday?!" Morier cried. "They promised they'd wait two days!"
"It has been four days since your friends exited the Grove," the Great Oak told him.
"What? It wasn't that long ago that I myself entered the tests," the albino protested. and the tree clacked his branches.
"Time flows differently within the Grove of Renewal," he explained. "They waited before heading south."
Morier considered this, noting the relative position of the twin 'pulls' in his mind. Both were in the south, one drawing his senses southwest and the other pulling southeast. That was something anyway. "Is it possible that you can send word to them that I am indeed alive and can help guide them?"
"I can try," the tree replied. "They move with haste, but the wagon required to transport your reborn friend will hamper the centaurs' progress."
"Centaurs?" Morier asked. He'd heard of but never met an actual representative of the horsefolk.
"The Lord of Horses answered by call for aid," the Great Oak said simply, adding after a moment's pause, "Go. I will gather what assistance I can for you"
Morier paused long enough to fashion himself a makeshift loincloth of vines and leaves. The garment wouldn't win any of the fashion contests that the bards were always going on about, but it afforded him a degree of modesty and right now that was all he cared about. That and finding his companions to disprove any suppositions about his death.
He glanced about, determined the direction back to the Aronerai School, and set off through the trees.
The goblins looked at him queerly as he stood in his rude skirt outside the thorny wall that hedged in The Great Oak. In comparison, their clothing of animal pelts seemed like finery. He shook his head, glad for the moment that his friends weren't here to see him.
As he pondered this thought, he got a prickling on the nape of his neck that he recognized at once. He was being scryed. It took only a moment to locate the sensor - a wavering, ocular distortion in the air above him - but there was nothing he could do to prevent the voyeurism.
'Perhaps,' he thought, 'it's father checking up on me.' But that seemed unlikely. It was certainly within Angwyn's power to divine Morier's location if he chose to, but remote viewing wasn't the man's style. At least, not any more. He'd be more likely to teleport here directly than to scry for any length of time... and he was very unlikely to teleport anywhere.
More likely it was one of their enemies. A potent mage had served alongside the werebats in the caves outside Strenchburg Junction. It was foolhardy of the VQS to think that their actions against Aphyx would go unnoticed for-
"Great Oak say you come now," Nigoulickit croaked, snapping Morier's attention away from the sensor and back to the hedge, which was now opened to him.
"Get a good look..." Morier growled up at the sensor. "You'll be seeing me again." Then he turned and stalked down the thorny tunnel to speak with The Great Oak.
"I humbly thank you for offering all of us the gift of the Purging," Morier said to The Great Oak once preliminary greetings were complete and the Eldritch Warrior had detailed his experiences with the Grove of Renewel.
"I am not so sure that Vadenhuffer T. Briarhopper and Ixin of Clan Vermillion would share with your gratitude," the Great Oak sighed. "Their experiences in the Grove were less pleasant than yours." Morier paused and bowed his head.
"I regret that those two did not make it through, but my own survival has afforded me information that may be critical to the cause that my companions seek," the elf said after a moment. He was unashamed of his success where the others had failed. His victory within the Grove may well have turned the tide of their conflict with Aphyx. "The keys to Dridana's freedom are within our grasp, but I must find Ledare and Feln. The three cairns at the entrance to the Grove must mean that they think I did not survive the Purging. Do you know what they intended to do upon leaving this spot?"
The Great Oak's leaves rustled for a moment. "They left yesterday morning heading south," the tree spoke into his mind. "They make for Pellham to uncover the source of the disturbance I sense growing there."
"Yesterday?!" Morier cried. "They promised they'd wait two days!"
"It has been four days since your friends exited the Grove," the Great Oak told him.
"What? It wasn't that long ago that I myself entered the tests," the albino protested. and the tree clacked his branches.
"Time flows differently within the Grove of Renewal," he explained. "They waited before heading south."
Morier considered this, noting the relative position of the twin 'pulls' in his mind. Both were in the south, one drawing his senses southwest and the other pulling southeast. That was something anyway. "Is it possible that you can send word to them that I am indeed alive and can help guide them?"
"I can try," the tree replied. "They move with haste, but the wagon required to transport your reborn friend will hamper the centaurs' progress."
"Centaurs?" Morier asked. He'd heard of but never met an actual representative of the horsefolk.
"The Lord of Horses answered by call for aid," the Great Oak said simply, adding after a moment's pause, "Go. I will gather what assistance I can for you"
Jon Potter
First Post
Naked With Company
Morier left the Great Oak's presence feeling somewhat unsatisfied. Something about the tree's tone, made him think that contacting Ledare and the others would be difficult if not outright impossible. He wondered how fast he could travel on foot, and whether it would be fast enough to catch the wagon transporting his companions southward.
He was so deep in thought that he failed to notice the scrying sensor hovering in the air above him. Only the rush of air being displaced alerted him to the fact that someone had teleported in behind him.
He turned and stared at a man's back - tall and dark with a bald pate. He was dressed in supple leather and carried an ornate shortspear easily in one hand. "I knew that Garan-Zak had me facing the wrong way," the man said and Morier recognized the voice as one he'd heard before. The man turned his obsidian countenance to Morier and a grin of white split his face. It was the smell of smoke that finally jogged the elf's memory.
"Huzair?" he asked, stunned to see the apprentice of one of his father's associates here. The man pulled out a cigar from a pocket inside his vest, spoke a word and lit it off the flame that danced on his thumb.
"Morier," Huzair said with a disinterested nod. "Long time, no see." The elf was shocked to see the wizard, but he recovered his composure quickly.
"Why Huzair, what in the world brings you to the Termlane Forest?" the elf asked. Before Huzair had a chance to respond he added, "And why have you been scrying me??"
Huzair snorted laughter and breathed on his cigar, making the ember at the end, flare with orange light. "Not me," he said with an innocent grin. "That was Garan-zak. You remember how he loves that crystal ball of his."
Morier could remember clearly the visit the wizard and his apprentice had paid to his father when Garan-zak had first acquired the scrying device. Despite the fact that Huzair was just a boy and Morier was fully-grown the two had been sentenced to reading up on Tenser's "Magical Properties of Gemstones" while the two wizards used the crystal ball to watch Kimbery bathe at the Greenbriar Inn. The pair of them hooted it up like a couple of prepubescents. Over the next few days of that visit, the wizards scried on every attractive female they could think of, until ap-Llewellyn made the mistake of suggesting that they try using the crystal ball to look in on Gisela the horse breeder. She'd spotted the scrying sensor right away and surmised immediately who it was that was invading her privacy. An angry visit by the raven-haired woman was enough of an embarrassment to cure ap-Llewellyn of his voyeuristic urges. Not so apparently with Garan-zak.
"I'm on the cusp of mastering spells of the 4th Circle. So Scry is a bit beyond me just yet," Huzair went on. "What about you? How go your studies?"
Morier had only just manifested his first spell of the 2nd Circle. A fact he'd been quite proud of until Huzair showed up to flaunt his own power. "Not as well as yours, it would seem," the albino admitted.
"Well, maybe if you spent more time hitting the books and less time running around out in the woods naked," Huzair laughed as he tugged at one of the numerous piercings that decorated his ear. "This another one of those druid things? You a nudist now?"
"You'll have to pardon my appearance," Morier said, looking himself over. Again he was startled by the absent web of scars on his torso. "I'm not prone to walking through the woods with naught but a loincloth, but an unfortunate circumstance has left me without a single possession."
"What? Did a nymph seduce you and steal your clothes?" Huzair joked, punching Morier in the arm companionably. His fist was hot against Morier's naked skin.
"No!" The eldritch warrior chuckled. He found himself laughing a bit at the absurdity of it all. "Nothing like that."
"What is the deal nature boy? You can tell me," Huzair pressed. He drew back suddenly and asked in a hushed tone, "It wasn't a satyr was it?"
"No!" Morier asserted more forcefully. Then he realized that Huzair had never answered his initial question. So he asked it again, "Just what are you doing out here, Huzair?" The wizard waved him off, exhaling a column of smoke into the bright sky.
"Garan-zak," he said simply. "The old man thinks I'm a bit too aimless - no goals, or something like that. So he was talking to your father the other day and finds out that you're hooked up with some crusading Janissary out to save the world from the forces of darkness. Next thing I know, Garan-zak's got it in his head that I should join up too. He used the crystal ball to find you and a quick teleport later: here I am."
Morier noticed for the first time that Huzair looked ready for travel. He had on sturdy boots and warcaster's armor along with his fashionable leather breeches and jerkin. He wore a potion belt and a scroll organizer just like Morier had given up to complete the test of water. A finely-tooled traveler's bag hung cross-wise on his torso, and Morier felt a twinge of envy when he saw The Valliant Vessel Shipping and Trading Company logo stamped on the purse in gold. A Handy Haversack! That magical bag alone must have cost 2,000 crowns or more.
"Well, Morier. What do you say?" Huzair asked with a conspiratorial grin. "Mind if I help you save the world?"
Morier left the Great Oak's presence feeling somewhat unsatisfied. Something about the tree's tone, made him think that contacting Ledare and the others would be difficult if not outright impossible. He wondered how fast he could travel on foot, and whether it would be fast enough to catch the wagon transporting his companions southward.
He was so deep in thought that he failed to notice the scrying sensor hovering in the air above him. Only the rush of air being displaced alerted him to the fact that someone had teleported in behind him.
He turned and stared at a man's back - tall and dark with a bald pate. He was dressed in supple leather and carried an ornate shortspear easily in one hand. "I knew that Garan-Zak had me facing the wrong way," the man said and Morier recognized the voice as one he'd heard before. The man turned his obsidian countenance to Morier and a grin of white split his face. It was the smell of smoke that finally jogged the elf's memory.
"Huzair?" he asked, stunned to see the apprentice of one of his father's associates here. The man pulled out a cigar from a pocket inside his vest, spoke a word and lit it off the flame that danced on his thumb.
"Morier," Huzair said with a disinterested nod. "Long time, no see." The elf was shocked to see the wizard, but he recovered his composure quickly.
"Why Huzair, what in the world brings you to the Termlane Forest?" the elf asked. Before Huzair had a chance to respond he added, "And why have you been scrying me??"
Huzair snorted laughter and breathed on his cigar, making the ember at the end, flare with orange light. "Not me," he said with an innocent grin. "That was Garan-zak. You remember how he loves that crystal ball of his."
Morier could remember clearly the visit the wizard and his apprentice had paid to his father when Garan-zak had first acquired the scrying device. Despite the fact that Huzair was just a boy and Morier was fully-grown the two had been sentenced to reading up on Tenser's "Magical Properties of Gemstones" while the two wizards used the crystal ball to watch Kimbery bathe at the Greenbriar Inn. The pair of them hooted it up like a couple of prepubescents. Over the next few days of that visit, the wizards scried on every attractive female they could think of, until ap-Llewellyn made the mistake of suggesting that they try using the crystal ball to look in on Gisela the horse breeder. She'd spotted the scrying sensor right away and surmised immediately who it was that was invading her privacy. An angry visit by the raven-haired woman was enough of an embarrassment to cure ap-Llewellyn of his voyeuristic urges. Not so apparently with Garan-zak.
"I'm on the cusp of mastering spells of the 4th Circle. So Scry is a bit beyond me just yet," Huzair went on. "What about you? How go your studies?"
Morier had only just manifested his first spell of the 2nd Circle. A fact he'd been quite proud of until Huzair showed up to flaunt his own power. "Not as well as yours, it would seem," the albino admitted.
"Well, maybe if you spent more time hitting the books and less time running around out in the woods naked," Huzair laughed as he tugged at one of the numerous piercings that decorated his ear. "This another one of those druid things? You a nudist now?"
"You'll have to pardon my appearance," Morier said, looking himself over. Again he was startled by the absent web of scars on his torso. "I'm not prone to walking through the woods with naught but a loincloth, but an unfortunate circumstance has left me without a single possession."
"What? Did a nymph seduce you and steal your clothes?" Huzair joked, punching Morier in the arm companionably. His fist was hot against Morier's naked skin.
"No!" The eldritch warrior chuckled. He found himself laughing a bit at the absurdity of it all. "Nothing like that."
"What is the deal nature boy? You can tell me," Huzair pressed. He drew back suddenly and asked in a hushed tone, "It wasn't a satyr was it?"
"No!" Morier asserted more forcefully. Then he realized that Huzair had never answered his initial question. So he asked it again, "Just what are you doing out here, Huzair?" The wizard waved him off, exhaling a column of smoke into the bright sky.
"Garan-zak," he said simply. "The old man thinks I'm a bit too aimless - no goals, or something like that. So he was talking to your father the other day and finds out that you're hooked up with some crusading Janissary out to save the world from the forces of darkness. Next thing I know, Garan-zak's got it in his head that I should join up too. He used the crystal ball to find you and a quick teleport later: here I am."
Morier noticed for the first time that Huzair looked ready for travel. He had on sturdy boots and warcaster's armor along with his fashionable leather breeches and jerkin. He wore a potion belt and a scroll organizer just like Morier had given up to complete the test of water. A finely-tooled traveler's bag hung cross-wise on his torso, and Morier felt a twinge of envy when he saw The Valliant Vessel Shipping and Trading Company logo stamped on the purse in gold. A Handy Haversack! That magical bag alone must have cost 2,000 crowns or more.
"Well, Morier. What do you say?" Huzair asked with a conspiratorial grin. "Mind if I help you save the world?"
Jon Potter
First Post
Naked With Company, part 2
Morier walked with Huzair back to the row of cairns to show the wizard what he was potentially getting himself into.
"It was here in Termlane Forest that five of us entered the Grove of Renewal just days ago," Morier said as Huzair puffed thoughtfully on his cigar. "Two failed to survive the Purging, two turned back before they finished, and only one completed the tasks given us by the Guardians of Fire, Earth, Air, and Water."
"And that would be you," the black-skinned man surmised. The albino nodded.
"It was there that I traded all of my belongings in exchange for assistance in completing the last of the four challenges. The two that turned back and one who declined the Grove have now left, moving South to Pellham, thinking me dead," Morier continued. "But I was given something, I don't know... some kind of 'enlightenment' when I finished the fourth test, and now I know how to find what we're looking for. I need to find them before they travel too far away."
"And we're talking about the half-elf, the ogre and the dwarf, right?" Huzair asked and the eldritch warrior nodded again. "Interesting company you're keeping these days, Morier."
"Huzair, I hope you're serious about wanting to join us. But I want you to know that this is a far more dangerous situation than I ever dreamed when I met this group," Morier warned. "We'd be happy to have you - most of all because two of our number have passed in the last few days and we could use your cunning. Another would be gone too, but for the Great Oak, who was able to encase his spirit in another body. As it is now, the others think I am dead. That's the danger we're talking about."
"Being thought dead?" Huzair asked. "I can live with that. There's been a time or two when that could have got me out of a few bad gambling debts."
"Not being 'thought' dead. Being dead," Morier corrected. "The forces we're up against are determined and the threat to our lives is very real."
"If saving the world was easy, everybody'd do it," Huzair joked. Morier just shook his head.
"The Great Oak is right now trying to get word to my friends to wait for me... well... for us. But it didn't sound very confident at the likelihood of success in getting the message to them," the elf went on. "I know this is a lot of information to take in, Huzair. But I'm glad you're here and I hope you'll join us."
The wizard considered for a moment before opening his Handy Haversack. "On one condition," Huzair said, tossing a bundle of clothes at Morier. "You gotta put these on. That skirt isn't nearly as concealing as you think it is."
Morier had just dressed himself in comfortable, if a trifle ill-fitting, traveling clothes when the wolf appeared. It as large and gray with white fangs that seemed perfectly capable of ripping Morier's throat to shreds if it chose. Despite his new garments, without sword and armor Morier still felt naked. Fortunately, the wolf did not seem threatening, it just stood on the path and regarded him intently.
That was when Morier saw the fairy. She was sitting on the wolf's back, clinging to its fur with both hands. She wore garments of green and blue and brown, her hair was gold and iridescent wings became a blur of silver behind her as she rose up from the wolf's back and took flight.
"My name's Lela," she said in a high-pitched twittering voice as she circled above Morier and Huzair. "The Great Oak said you need help finding some folks who headed out with the centaurs. Wolf and I can help, if you want. We can find them for you. Do you know they've got a giant with them?"
"That would be Feln," Morier answered, craning his neck to keep his eye on the Faen. "He's not really a giant; he's a half-ogre."
"Technically speaking ogrish blood makes him a giant," Huzair corrected smugly. "You need to crack a book more often. That whole gish thing is starting to catch up with you." Morier just shook his head. He'd forgotten how insufferable Huzair could be.
Lela alighted on a nearby branch and cocked her head at Morier. "So you're the guy who made it back from the Grove... Cool! Hope you found out what you needed to." She darted off the branch and circled Morier in a tight spiral that carried her from head to foot. "Yup," she announced as she moved back to her branch. "Looks like you did."
"You can help me... us find my friends?" the Eldritch Warrior asked. The tiny Faen nodded.
"Great Oak says I am supposed to come with you two to find the others," she said, puffing herself up to a full 12 inches in height and planting her fists heroically on her hips. "This is my first adventure. Great Oak has taught me lots of stuff but I never get to use it! This'll be great! We'll have lots of fun!"
"This will be far from fun-" the albino began, but Lela had already turned her attention to Huzair.
"Wow!" she exclaimed, pinching the wizard's black skin. "You're as dark as a drow!"
Huzair jerked away and blew a cone of cigar smoke at the Faen which she expertly avoided. "I assure you that I'm no drow!" he protested.
"That's good! They're awful!" Lela twittered and then seemed to realize the insult she'd just levied at the albino. "Ohhh... You're a drow, aren't you Morier?"
"What if he is?" Huzair argued before Morier could even respond.
"But Great Oak says you're good so you must be good," she shrugged and dismissed it all in an eyeblink. "Well, let's get going."
As they moved off down the trail toward the south, Lela kept up a steady stream of conversation of which Vade might have been proud had he been there to hear it. "So what do you think about all these goblins?... This is Wolf. He's my best friend. We talk sometimes for hours and hours....."
Neither Huzair nor Morier had any reason to doubt her and they had to respect the wolf's patience.
"So, Lela?" Huzair asked at one point. "You're so small. Have you ever sneaked into any buildings?" Morier gave the wizard a shove and Huzair looked at him indignantly. "Relax! I didn't mean anything," the mage shrugged. "Old habits die hard."
Morier walked with Huzair back to the row of cairns to show the wizard what he was potentially getting himself into.
"It was here in Termlane Forest that five of us entered the Grove of Renewal just days ago," Morier said as Huzair puffed thoughtfully on his cigar. "Two failed to survive the Purging, two turned back before they finished, and only one completed the tasks given us by the Guardians of Fire, Earth, Air, and Water."
"And that would be you," the black-skinned man surmised. The albino nodded.
"It was there that I traded all of my belongings in exchange for assistance in completing the last of the four challenges. The two that turned back and one who declined the Grove have now left, moving South to Pellham, thinking me dead," Morier continued. "But I was given something, I don't know... some kind of 'enlightenment' when I finished the fourth test, and now I know how to find what we're looking for. I need to find them before they travel too far away."
"And we're talking about the half-elf, the ogre and the dwarf, right?" Huzair asked and the eldritch warrior nodded again. "Interesting company you're keeping these days, Morier."
"Huzair, I hope you're serious about wanting to join us. But I want you to know that this is a far more dangerous situation than I ever dreamed when I met this group," Morier warned. "We'd be happy to have you - most of all because two of our number have passed in the last few days and we could use your cunning. Another would be gone too, but for the Great Oak, who was able to encase his spirit in another body. As it is now, the others think I am dead. That's the danger we're talking about."
"Being thought dead?" Huzair asked. "I can live with that. There's been a time or two when that could have got me out of a few bad gambling debts."
"Not being 'thought' dead. Being dead," Morier corrected. "The forces we're up against are determined and the threat to our lives is very real."
"If saving the world was easy, everybody'd do it," Huzair joked. Morier just shook his head.
"The Great Oak is right now trying to get word to my friends to wait for me... well... for us. But it didn't sound very confident at the likelihood of success in getting the message to them," the elf went on. "I know this is a lot of information to take in, Huzair. But I'm glad you're here and I hope you'll join us."
The wizard considered for a moment before opening his Handy Haversack. "On one condition," Huzair said, tossing a bundle of clothes at Morier. "You gotta put these on. That skirt isn't nearly as concealing as you think it is."
Morier had just dressed himself in comfortable, if a trifle ill-fitting, traveling clothes when the wolf appeared. It as large and gray with white fangs that seemed perfectly capable of ripping Morier's throat to shreds if it chose. Despite his new garments, without sword and armor Morier still felt naked. Fortunately, the wolf did not seem threatening, it just stood on the path and regarded him intently.
That was when Morier saw the fairy. She was sitting on the wolf's back, clinging to its fur with both hands. She wore garments of green and blue and brown, her hair was gold and iridescent wings became a blur of silver behind her as she rose up from the wolf's back and took flight.
"My name's Lela," she said in a high-pitched twittering voice as she circled above Morier and Huzair. "The Great Oak said you need help finding some folks who headed out with the centaurs. Wolf and I can help, if you want. We can find them for you. Do you know they've got a giant with them?"
"That would be Feln," Morier answered, craning his neck to keep his eye on the Faen. "He's not really a giant; he's a half-ogre."
"Technically speaking ogrish blood makes him a giant," Huzair corrected smugly. "You need to crack a book more often. That whole gish thing is starting to catch up with you." Morier just shook his head. He'd forgotten how insufferable Huzair could be.
Lela alighted on a nearby branch and cocked her head at Morier. "So you're the guy who made it back from the Grove... Cool! Hope you found out what you needed to." She darted off the branch and circled Morier in a tight spiral that carried her from head to foot. "Yup," she announced as she moved back to her branch. "Looks like you did."
"You can help me... us find my friends?" the Eldritch Warrior asked. The tiny Faen nodded.
"Great Oak says I am supposed to come with you two to find the others," she said, puffing herself up to a full 12 inches in height and planting her fists heroically on her hips. "This is my first adventure. Great Oak has taught me lots of stuff but I never get to use it! This'll be great! We'll have lots of fun!"
"This will be far from fun-" the albino began, but Lela had already turned her attention to Huzair.
"Wow!" she exclaimed, pinching the wizard's black skin. "You're as dark as a drow!"
Huzair jerked away and blew a cone of cigar smoke at the Faen which she expertly avoided. "I assure you that I'm no drow!" he protested.
"That's good! They're awful!" Lela twittered and then seemed to realize the insult she'd just levied at the albino. "Ohhh... You're a drow, aren't you Morier?"
"What if he is?" Huzair argued before Morier could even respond.
"But Great Oak says you're good so you must be good," she shrugged and dismissed it all in an eyeblink. "Well, let's get going."
As they moved off down the trail toward the south, Lela kept up a steady stream of conversation of which Vade might have been proud had he been there to hear it. "So what do you think about all these goblins?... This is Wolf. He's my best friend. We talk sometimes for hours and hours....."
Neither Huzair nor Morier had any reason to doubt her and they had to respect the wolf's patience.
"So, Lela?" Huzair asked at one point. "You're so small. Have you ever sneaked into any buildings?" Morier gave the wizard a shove and Huzair looked at him indignantly. "Relax! I didn't mean anything," the mage shrugged. "Old habits die hard."
Hairy Minotaur
Explorer
Good Lord Jon! You should clean out your cushions more often, look at all the writing you found! 
Excellent as usual
Excellent as usual
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