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Pathfinders - Honor of the Fallen

@Orikanyo


In the bark of the tree, you note a pattern, odd lumps that, view as a whole, make it abundantly clear: A humanoid figure, with a well defined face, is merged into the tree. They appear to be asleep, but drawing close enough lets the breath just barely be heard. Faint. Infrequent.
 
Chase couldn't actually read elven, "So, what does it say?" he asked, hands behind his back as he looked around for any signs of danger.


[dice]18937[/dice]


When he noticed the humanoid figure in the tree he examined it, wondering if it was a sleeping dryad or if they were trapped by some kind of magic.
 
@TacoMann


Staring at the figure for a moment, slightly in disbelief, more so in confusion to.. why a person was within that tree. Clearing his throat and hoping to the gods he would get his elven right... hardly ever used it aside from reading, and since the plaque was written in elven one could assume that... well.. the person/plant might know it. Constructing the sentence within his mind he then nodded after he finally brought together the line he wanted to bring forward, or atleast center his words once again... Damn languages, hopefully this tree says it knows common or it'll be a tough conversation to say the least.


Clearing his throat he looked towards the tree's...face?


"Goo- *clears throat again* Good evening first tree, I apologize for awakening you from your slumber. Could you help us? We are lost." Shara-kier squeezed out, thankfully without to much trouble, Elven was fine enough of a language but it was more like lyrics then a language, had to flow well... sadly he wasn't to good at the FLOW part, but he could get a point across.
 
@Orikanyo @JayTee @SephirothSage @DarkDan1100


The bark of the tree clicks loudly. Again, as the outline of the figure forms, thin strings of fabric pulling from the tree. Bark peels away, as the visage changes to flesh and fur, a pair of golden, wide eyes, not unlike those of an owl, opening uncomfortably close to Shara-Kier's own eyes. A soft, tired, so quiet as to seem distant voice, echoes from the thin, wrinkled lips that join the angular, gnarled face. He struggles for a moment, before finally, he speaks in Elven.


"...You...speak? P-Please...Say another... Such clear speak... it is a beauty to hear ... after so long ..."


Labored breaths of a waking man make themselves known, as more and more wrinkled, cragged, flesh and worn, faded fabric begins to unfurl from beneath the bark.
 
Roland's eyes went wide at the words, shocked that the being was aware. He had heard of Druids merging themselves with the wildlife, but the merger was, according to all accounts, a pleasant one.


"What happened to you, Elf-friend?" He asked, using the elvish tongue.
 
@TacoMann


"Oh!" Shara-kier gasped at first as he looked back to Chase with surprise in his eyes, but he did as the tree asked of him, to grant comfort with words... it was the least he could do to grant it some happyness.


"Ah yes of course.. ehmn..."


"I appologise for my surprise, so far you are the only thing to not outright attack us so far in this place. Are you an inhabitant of this place?" he asked the man his eyes kept watch of the man for any sudden movements, or perhaps anything possibly hostile on the horizon.
 
@Orikanyo @DarkDan1100 @SephirothSage @JayTee


The faintest glimmer of a smile slowly crosses the elf's face. His eyes seeming to well up with tears, as he slowly slides forward from the tree. "...You speak." He mutters.


A soft -click- echoes from the ground, as a wooden sandal folds off the tree, and onto his foot. Another, as both feet reach the ground, and finally, a third, as he pulls with him a tall staff from the tree. Whilst within the bark, he stood an impressive 6'5", as he exits, he kneels against his staff, slumping down a full foot as his heavy cloak flows with a single gust of wind, before falling on his shoulders. The feathered cloak parts into two "wings". The image of an owl, lingers heavily over the entire ensemble. The man looks more withered and gnarled than the tree he emerged from.


"I am, an inhabitant of this place. Yes. But to be lost here... Mrm... I'm surprised how you managed it... Unless the world has moved on, in which case with the children still here, this is most certainly a forsaken site... Mrn." He stands up tall again, the sound of an entire skeleton crackling into place as he aligns himself, before hunching back over. "...Forgive my tears... it has been so long, since one has spoken more than a snarl...The children...they have lost their way. Lost our culture.... Come. Come." He turns, and slowly shuffles towards the greatest spires. Small wisps of light curling to illuminate the frame of a nonexistant door, as a hole peels in the greatest spire. He continues his slow march, leaning on his staff. Humming with effort as he struggles to force his old bones awake. "You all must be tired, hungry, to have journeyed far enough to lose yourselves here... Let me see if at least one vine still lives..."
 
@TacoMann @DarkDan1100 @SephirothSage @JayTee


Shara-kier smiled to the older man, all but happy to practice his elven more... however it seems some others may need clarifications. "The man is friendly, simply wishes to speak and give us rest, we maybe able to get more of the situation out of him." the knight relays to the others as he looks to Roland. "lets keep the others informed, Mira do you speak elven? i doubt this place has much contact with our... place..." he asked the other two before he followed the man.


As he did so, the cassisian attempted to detect evil within the area, focusing in search of larger sources.


"We are not certain how we came to be here as well, each of us was entering a city... then we awoke here, sadly... the inhabitants were less the inviting... I am sorry." Shara-kier appologised for hurting what may have been his family at one time.
 
Mira looks up. She's been in a trance, almost, since introducing her- looking almost shell shocked, as the blood soaked into her armor and repaired the suit of mail. She looks between those present- and heaves out a long, sad sigh.


"..My condolences." She says softly in Elven towards the impossibly old being before her. "Old One- my apologies. I took the life of one who attacked me; if you seek reparation, I understand. If not, I.. also understand. My condolences- but.." She trails of thoughtfully for a moment- then speaks on. "...I would humbly ask- what can you tell us of this place? We wandered to the gates of a place we thought paradise- and found ourselves transported, one by one I suspect, to this sad place. What is more- can we help you in return?" She inquires softly- concern in the womans tone.


[dice]18941[/dice]
 
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@Orikanyo @JayTee @DarkDan1100 @SephirothSage


The man clears his throat, and suddenly, his words ring in whichever language you find most simple to understand. "There we are now. Apologies. I had forgotten there where more tongues than that of my kind..." He continues walking, slowly making his pace up the staircase. Seemingly ignorant of the dismember corpse of Mira's kill. "Now then...As for how you got here...I'm afraid I wouldn't know... Your story is certainly a strange one....I do not know why or how one would go about, shunting off youths to an abandoned plane...It just doesn't seem to have sense to it. If someone wanted you dead, they could port you to the void...Or out of the way, to any old plane... A shattered one, though...No...We are godless. Our ley lines are weak...It would be difficult to direct a portal to here...unless.... nrm....Unless you where called by someone here." He enters the building, lights welling up inside, revealing a great shrine at the far end of the large spire. Sheer walls separating off atleast two other rooms from the central entrace. Twelve great pews stretching to those walls. And the far wall? A vibrant mass of brown, with just the barest hint of green. The smell of rot, hangs in the air. "...Mrm...Pardon. It has been...how long.... just under seven centuries, since I last had a guest....." He gives a weary sigh, as he gestures for you all to enter. A tap of his staff opening a a small hole in the ceiling of the spire, a sudden gust of wind removing the foul smell. "...Mrm. I am sorry your welcome was to the children... I... Regret my failure of them. They do not listen anymore... They are, as said, lost.... The last child to come through here, sought to speak with the Mountain Lords.... I fear, he has not only been Lost, but has Fallen...." He enters deeper into what now makes itself well known as a church, heading towards the far wall.
 
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Roland considered the Elf's words. Like many ancient sages, their explanations always brought more questions. Still, this was the only friendly face they had encountered so far, and the old man seemed like he enjoyed talking, so perhaps it wouldn't hurt to ask.


"Old sage, I have many questions for you, if you would be so kind to answer." Said Roland. "Who are these 'children' you speak of? Where did they come from? What force do you know of that might draw us here? What are these 'Mountain Lords?' What do you mean 'Lost' and 'Fallen?'" He asked.


So many questions, so little time.
 
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Mira thinks for a moment- then sighs.


"...Roland, was it..? By.. 'the children'.. I believe he refers to the elves who went mad and feral outside- who where, sadly, likely once his children in a sense, if only by being the younger of his people, and he the elder." She explains towards the Wizard- before turning to bow her head thankfully towards the ancient druid.


"...My apologies, again- but thank you. The other terms you mentioned that he asked about, though- I must admit to a note of curiosity about. I.. do not intend to lose myself in this place, as it seems others have. I intend to find my way home- or elsewhere. Indeed- if you'd like, we could try to help you leave with us, if you so desire?" She suggests softly- a sad frown on her face.


"It.. cannot be pleasant here- and it seems only right to offer you what kindness we can, in recompense for whatever information you feel could aid us, and answers to what questions you can, yes?" She says aloud- as on the inside- she thinks to herself.


This is what sister would do, right..?
 
Chase regretted not learning the elven tongue, it would be pretty useful here. He wasn't entirely keeping up with what was going on due to the language barrier, so he simply stayed alert so he wouldn't be caught flat-footed if any more creatures attacked them.
 
@JayTee @SephirothSage @DarkDan1100 @Orikanyo


The old man looks to Roland with an odd look. Like he feels his attentions are unfixed. "...They are the children of this community. They came from my family. From my children, my companions' children. Their children. They are the children of this grove." He continues walking, until he reaches the far wall, revealed to be a tangled mass of dying and dead vines. "The force that draws you here...I would know not...perhaps someone tried to salvage this place, and called for a hero. Or perhaps someone with a personal vendetta found their way here first..." He hums for a minute, as he presses his hand against a still somewhat green vine. Water pours from his sleeve, and begins running through the vine. "...To be lost, is to lose your way. And they have lost ours. And to fall, is to lose not only your way, but the honor and strength you had earned. For a child to be lost, they must live without guidance. But for a woman to fall. She must have once held herself to great heights. Heights she has abandoned in the name of survival..." his words turn to a scowl, as flowers begin to spring along the vine he holds. "...To cast aside all honor, and cling to one's own life, out of desperation to survive. That is, is to fall. And it is a worse fate than Death, I'd find... Of course. Death eludes me of its own choice..."


[OOC: Tongues spell, applied to the druid. Even if you don't speak Elven, you can understand him.]


The "door" seals behind you, should you all enter.
 
@TacoMann


"The time has not spoilt your wisdom sir, it is true, honor is most important to not lose one's self. The world doesn't always make it easy, but to stop yourself from trying is the surest path to losing one's self." Shara-kier praised his wise words as he stepped inside to grant some form of shelter from the sense of unease the outside gives, his eyes peering all around, searching for anything that may seem... contrary, to the man's polite and almost kind nature, one has to be careful.


"You spoke of mountain lords sir, is there others within this land?"
 
[COLOR=rgb(86,86,86)]@JayTee[/COLOR] @SephirothSage @DarkDan1100 @Orikanyo


"Hrm? Mrm...yes... Mountain lords... I have not heard from them, or seen any of their caravans in the past thirteen millenia... The rulers of the Republic of the Mountain-Holds. Kept good trade with the tribals who lived ON the mountains. A few of them giants, a few of them trox, but most of them some sort of dwarf. They where good for trade....They had not seen anything like our ore in their many mines..." He sighs softly, as he runs his free hand against a clean patch of blue on the wall. The blossoms on the vine folding, forming into an odd, bluish-pink fruit. A shape to it like three interlocking orbs. Seeds dotting the surface like a strawberry. Twelve in total grow, each to the size of a melon. "...Here. Have a bit, if you're feeling peckish. I'm afraid it would take a good year or two to bring the rest of my crops in good condition. Variety is not good, but the Neccalf is nutritious." He hums, as he turns, and shuffles over to a bench, buckling down on the pew. "...There is a storeroom, to the left. Although I doubt you will have much need for anything in there. The door to the right leads up. Bunks. And a watch-room. Feel free to spend the day hours... The desert sun would scorch you... I think... It scorches the children... But I never caught flame in the garden.... It would make such perfect kindling too...forthsndmrn-" He trails off, grumbling and muttering under his breath, before giving a laboured sigh.
 
"Thank you, old sage." Roland said respectfully as he took a fruit. "Is there anything I might do to repay your offering of shelter and food?" He asked. It was the least he could do for an old man all alone.
 
Thoughtfully looking on, Mira plucks a fruit- and looks with a deep sadness to the old man. What must he have suffered, to truly desire death- to desire to burn..? To think of himself as 'perfect kindling'...


The thought brings a frown to her face, as she quietly noms the fruit.
 
[COLOR=rgb(86,86,86)]@JayTee[/COLOR] @SephirothSage @DarkDan1100 @Orikanyo


"Nothing necessary, no young one. Nothing need done to repay me. Simply a promise to be kept." He turns to the group, smiling softly again as he clicks his staff. A mass of shuffling and lurching as a mass of dead vines falls from the wall, crumbling to dust, and swirling out of the hole in the ceiling, into the dark morning air. "...Preserve your honor, youth." He says in that tired tone, before he shuffles off. "If you seek help home, I'm afraid I can't help you. I suggest tracking an arcanist...Hrm... the Crystal Palace, was the foremost academy of the arcane. Many of our children went there over the years... You would have to pass over or through the mountains of the west to reach it...Or you could seek out the mystics of the far fens to the east....beyond the forests and plains...." He mumbles to himself, as roots and vines curl beneath him, blackened and gnarled, forming into a chair for him to take a seat upon.
 
"I vote the Crystal Palace." Chase said simply, it sounded like the most sound idea, crossing mountains wasn't too difficult and it sounded like the most magic would be there.
 
@everyone because I can't be bothered to mention everyone at the moment.


"While I imagine magic will help us, I have a feeling the mystics shall be an easier target to reach, the man spoke of giants in the mountains, and should they prove to have went the way of the people here... I shudder to think what they may have turned into." Shara-kier shivered slightly at the thought. he ahd faced his fair share of giant, ogre and their kin, a disgusting lot with about as much sense as you would expect of inbred filth.


"that is what i think, i would prefer we did not split up, so i shall go with the majority vote, even if i may look like a goat, i have no love of mountains i assure you hahahah!" he laughed good naturedly about his own visage, best he made the goat jokes known before somebody attempts to use them for ill... should stress run high and tempers flare.


He plucked a fruit from the vine and after a small hesitation, he took a bite... had a strange taste... not a bad one per say, but strange was a good word for it.


"What do you think Roland? Mira?"
 
Mira strokes her chin, as she finishes eating the fruit.


"..Hrm. Well. On one hand- Both routes are probably equally horrifically dangerous. Mystics or Arcanists, then. I find Mystics to seem like more trustworthy folk, personally- I say the Fens, together."
 
"I vote for the Arcanists, myself." Said Roland. "If, as you suspect, the residents of this plane have all gone... sour, the at the very least I will be able to understand their writings and enable us to find a way home.
 
"Giants shouldn't be too much of a problem, at least we'll expect them in the mountains, who knows what to expect in the east?" Chase asked rhetorically, he didn't eat the fruit since he didn't need to eat and he had no idea if it might be charmed or cursed, "And in the mountains we're guaranteed crags and caves to hide in at the least." he pointed out, almost dryly, as if he didn't believe it mattered too much.
 
Mira tilts her head to the side thoughtfully.


"So. Here's a thought. Those things you mistook for ghouls...? The ones that shredded apart a Hound Archon and ran away with it..? Those used to be relatively normal Elves- most of them, probably not even warriors. That's what they became, in this plane. D'yah really want to see what happened to an Archmage when we get there- or, even, the giants, ogres- and god help us, DWARVES- that are going to be in the mountains?" She muses- then chuckles.


"Hell. With my Luck, there's some kind of horrific monster waiting for us just outside the church. The Universe is a dick like that. On the other hand, these Fens? Probably not much better, but I see Mystics coping with a total planar collapse a lot better than Wizards- no offense, Wizard- simply because, well. Look at our Druidic friend- he's got some issues, but he's a good damn man. Most wizards- no offense, Wizard- tend to put their Craft before their Morals. Most Mystics, are in their Craft for their morals- in my experience, at least. This is just my input- way I see it? No matter which way we go.." She trails of..... and then grins wider. The light glints of her smokey silver plate, the mithral of her armor not shimmering- just briefly gleaming...


"...We'll want to prepare as if we where marching into Hell."
 
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