Faith In the Wood (Open)

[Celestus]

The wind sang its song through the grass of the fields and the sun teased its daylight through the sky as they exited the protection of the city. They were seven. Two humans and five elves, all dressed in furs. In these times, the wariness of the old times of other races had to be put aside for survival. To those who were not bards or mages those feelings of over-righteousness were few. Still, what greater pride was there than to be an elf?

Particularly humans... I must treasure these moments. For them to be in the memory of my long life will do them great testimony to their legacy.

Among them was an elf in a leather mask, and long black hair which reached in braids to his calves. His sharp blue eyes observed the woodcutter and his son who had traveled from Corone in order to find better trade in the Elven lands. They had protected the refugees once everyone had to flee from Eluiand. Bryce was his name. His son was James and their surname was Urslund. The elf recalled the many times they hunted and returned with meat and pelts. He was even the one to teach him how to work bone into trinkets and arrows.

"Lidas, are you in your own little world again?"

"Hmm?"

Arialidas lifted his head to Bryce, his eyes blinking in confusion. Looking around at the dirt path under his feet before bringing his gaze up again, even his mask couldn’t hide his sheepish expression.

"Hehahahaha! ... You always leave us until we arrive at the forest, Lidas! Why do you think so much?"

"I would imagine it keeps me from mischief."

“As if you would get into mischief!”

“I would never let that face fool you, Bryce! Give him the chance, he’d be drowning himself in wine” one of the elves quipped.

Arialidas merely laughed with the others, lightly placing his hand over his masked face. Keeping his back straight and forcing a smile on his face, he continued to walk. James furrowed his brow at the group, his young face aging about ten years to that of a man.

“Why you gotta poke fun at his face? Sure, there are things ta poke fun about, but ain’t a face a man’s pride?”

“Aw, boy! If we didn’t know Lidas, maybe so, but you got yourself a good heart. Lidas has had a century or so to get used to a rib or two. Friendly ribs are… say shadowboxin’ for the soul! If we can’t take it from our friends who don’t want to hurt us, then words from people who don’t even know us’ll hurt us more. Gives ya thick skin” Bryce explained.

“Makes sense, pa.”

“So I can make fun of your balding head” Lidas joked.

The other elves started to snicker as Bryce’s face appeared to have snacked on a lemon. Taking a hand to his own pride and running his thick fingers past his high hairline, he snorted and turned around.

“Go back to thinking, Lidas! You’ll stay out of mischief that way!”

The group laughed. Arialidas took a long breath in to enjoy the crisp morning air and continued the journey lost in his own thoughts. Once again, his thoughts turned to the gods, as obsessive as he was about them. Did Cuarye himself walk with us in our very bows to see how we were doing? Should he say hello? Ah, but if so, he would have been with them for quite some time. Even if such was the case, in every morning that they went to hunt, the time to say hello should never be squandered. What did the gods do up there? Were the bored out of their minds from being assumed to be distant? Surely if judgment of the Dessert was their doing that they must be at least watching. Were they entertained? Curious? Surely asking these questions were no sin, but was not being given an answer a greater sin?

It was these thoughts which would daily haunt Arialidas with nobody else to really speak to about the matter. Centuries of simply believing in that which was already ordained weighed heavily upon him. His brow lowered for a time as one of his brethren noticed his melancholy.

“Lidas?”

“Cor… I know my views have been eccentric, but… I have been pondering deeply about the gods again.”

“They are, Lidas. That is all we need to worry of. In all seriousness, Lidas, perhaps your thinking is getting into more mischief.”

“ ‘They are’? Has anyone pondered the reason why they do not intervene? Because we assume they will not and do not ask?”

“I admit… your strange desire for prayer sometimes brings peace, but that might simply be your own intentions springing forth in magic. I will not sway you from what you wish to believe, as we all need to believe something in these dark times. I simply do not wish to hope for something that has not come to pass in thousands of years.”

“Then do we rely only on ourselves as our forsaken cousins?”

The entire group stopped and turned with dark gazes to Arialidas, Cordel lifting his arm between the group. Arialidas met the group with chilling silence as the wind blew down the plains in a hissing whistle.

“We are all in dark times. Let us allow ourselves to speak our frustrations and questions” Cordel offered.

“You know what they say about talkin’ about religion…” Bryce added.

“Even if our rituals didn’t do us anything for the Necromancer, putting us at the same level as-“

The red-headed Jethas kept pushing against Cordel’s arm trying to step up to the unwavering Arialidas. The burly hunter next to him clapped on Jethas’ shoulder, trying to pull his hunting mate back. Another blond elf kept his peace, wearing a full bandoleer of daggers with a pair of swords at his side. He wore a helmet with a chain shirt, but the rest appeared leather.

“Jethas… we have fallen. I agree it was a harsh statement, but not entirely untrue.”

“Alright, we can settle this before we enter the forest. Arialidas, if it would make you feel better, would you please pray for us before we enter the boundaries of the Red Wood” Cordel said.

“You… you would let me?”

“If it does us nothing, then it can do us no harm. If it is alright with the rest of us, he can pray for each of us before we hunt.”

“How useless!”

The blond hunter next to Jethas crossed his arms, showing off his powerful muscles. He stood at least two inches higher than the hot-blooded elf and had the tattoos of an experienced Lord.

“Even I wouldn’t go as far as to say that the gods are useless, Jethas. I would say you and Arialidas are even now in offense.”

“Tsk…” Jethas said, turning his head away. “Brenil, we are that much better than those dark-skinned abominations!”

“Aye, but look at our nation. We’ve crumbled under a filthy necromancer and the southern territories have been taken. That forest we are about to enter is likely the best thing keeping them from us. We need to retake our pride and revive ourselves!”

“Iiiii’m staying out of this” Bryce muttered.

“That is what I am saying… I believe we became so out of touch with who we were and where we came from. That is why we are crumbling. We clung to tradition instead of the gods. Rituals are good, but how many thousands of years have we merely said that ‘they are and we are not they’. I want to at least try to invite them into my daily life” Arialidas said.

“As Cordel said… if it does us nothing, it does us no harm” Brenil said. “Come… daylight arrives while we dally. Focus on the road ahead. Come, Lother, let us go.”

"At last..." the once-silent elf replied.

Brenil and Lother took point with Arialidas, Jethas, Cordel, and Bryce following behind. James kept carrying the load in the middle of the group, having a bigger frame than most twelve-year-old humans. Jethas kept giving Arialidas narrowed eyes and scoffs as he threw his cloak behind him and marched forward. The hunting team made their way to the edge of the forest. The remains of a logging station had served as the en route camping ground for several hunting parties, but was far enough north that it was away from the thick of the forest. The cabin had long since lost its roof, but it had three and a half walls and a fire pit.

It would suffice.

[Ruby]

In the heart of the Lindequalmë there were creatures best forgotten. Bound in the red bark and thronged branches of the living wood, the ancient behemoth of terror, tragedy, and testimony resides. Ruby Winchester could only sit and wait in wonderment at the thought her companion had instilled in her mind.

“I am not sure I follow you,” she pursed her lips. Her glimmering eyes settled onto Duffy’s back, only for him to turn and return the favour with jade green orbs of mischief. His cane adjusted its position over the bramble and moss thicket, and pressed forwards to afford the bard some comfort in the heart of the Raiaera wilderness.

“Look around you, and tell me what you see?” he smiled. His shrewd expression, black sweaty hair, and thick, dusted jacket carved a humanoid shadow out of the crimson backdrop and the nephrite tapestry of the Red Forest.

Ruby obeyed Duffy’s pseudo-command and turned on a sharp heel to take in the panorama. On the verge of the forest, they were teetering between the dense canopy and undergrowth of the Lindequalmë proper and the sparse groves that surrounded the wood before it petered out on to the plains and to the walls of the ruined city of Carnelost. The spear tipped leaves of the Chadian Oak, the scent of oranges, and the swirling moss trails that danced in the lower canopies clouded her judgement with a skein of beauty wild and true. There was nothing but the forest, and the forest was everything.

“I see nothing but red trees, ancient tales, and darkness in the cracked bark of this terrible place.” Her lips softened into a warm smile as she turned back to face the bard and set her hands onto her hips. The fold of her dress creased under the pressure of his firm stance. “I still do not know why you thought the entity would be here, out of all the wells of power in these lands.” Her accusatory tone grated down Duffy’s spine painfully. He could only shudder at her lack of faith.

“Ruby, the tree to your right is smashed.” He pointed a digit on his cane free hand to the canopy to their right and outlined some of the broken, splintered, and dying branches. “Over behind you there is a similar tale. Whatever caused you to have that nightmare was here. The question is not why, but where. Whatever is driving the blood wolves and the horned creepers into the path of civilisation is not something that is going to just present itself to us readily.” He stepped towards Ruby, and trudged over the brambles with heavy, steel-toe capped boots.

“I did not notice,” Ruby said wistful as she examined the now obvious trail of devastation through the Lindequalmë. Something had rampaged in a line through the heart of the high elven kingdom. Something, deadly, dangerous, and hungry had channelled its energy north to the planes. “I think we should retire to the hunter’s camp we passed a short while ago, before we delve any deeper into the Red Forest.” The matriarch placed her nimble fingers onto the hilt of Lucrezia, and listened to the sword’s secret, solitary, and sumptuous whispers. She smiled in response to whatever it told her, and folded her arms over her chest.

Duffy could only nod in agreement.

“If we cannot discern the nature of this disturbance, then much left standing in Raiaera will be put to the test. Amon Lungan will fall to the east, and the Narenhad garrison will be drawn away from the defence of the mountains to attest to the defence of the forest’s dwindling resources.” The knowledge plied to Duffy’s mind was lost on the bard. Whilst Ruby had delved into the historical, geographical, and theological past of Raiaera since they had arrived four months prior, the bard had studied solely its theatrical prominence. A bard in a land of bards had other things permanently ensconced in his easily distracted mind.

“We will find out what has been causing these strange migrations Ruby, mark my words.” He pointed through the tree line towards the encampment that rested between the plains and the hunting trails which split off like a capillary into the cursed lands. Even in the heart of the madness left in the wake of the war with Xem’Zund, not even certain death could prevent the bravest hunters in the land from tracking the Great Kill into the jaws of death.

“I hope so,” she mused as she began to walk, “I am already missing silk sheets, my lecturers, and a well-deserved glass of Shiraz in the evening.” By which she meant during lunch, dinner, and at any remotely suitable opportunity. Duffy knew her well enough to assume that she meant she missed luxury, comfort, and prestige. “Do you have a theory, at least?” she raised an eyebrow and begrudgingly paced herself to allow Duffy to catch up. His black lacquered cane, with its silver tip and chained handle set their pace to their place of rest.

Duffy shrugged, “we are both new to this country, despite our previous incarnations having lived here for many years. Memories have been lost, but I get the sense that we will know the source of our troubles when we see it.” His sombre tone told Ruby as much about the man’s mood as her tone had told Duffy about her disgruntled view of her state of soberness.

They walked more or less side by side through the undergrowth, traipsing around thick patches of reeds, tree shrubs, and fruit trees. The bulging berries which were as red as the bark and the leaves danced in a gentle wind as they walked by. Ochre, rust, and copper tinted spruces peppered the trail, and wavered back and forth beneath their towering and true blooded cousins. A soft breeze caused the dead branches high above to dance, rattle, and cause a ruckus. The tension in the air grew as the musical duo wound down the dusty path north. On their journey into the edge of the forest they had walked past one of the hunting camps that had been abandoned in recent weeks.

It would suffice as a base of operations whilst they sang, span, and frolicked themselves to the answer they sought – who, what, and why was the Red Forest waking?

Duffy murmured under his breath, “Why do the dead and the forgotten never stay so?”

[Celestus]

The smoke started lifting from the camp as the two approached, and the voices of the hunters inside could be heard from the plains. Eggs and cooking meat welcomed the familiar strangers back to the area they had passed. A hiss of popping grease, and the low laughter echoed through the run down campsite with at least two voices being a broken High Elven.

As the two passed the open part of the wooden walls of the shelter, the group of hunters could be seen, most of them fully armed save for a younger human boy. One of them appeared lesser armed than the rest and wore a curious leather mask over the left side of his face. His hair reached in braids down to his calves with various hand-carved ornaments. All of them had a little fur on their person, but the masked elf seemed to be covered in leather hides and a fur cloak.

"So which is it? Something in or something out, Brenil?" Bryce inquired.

"I talked to my father... a slight combination of both, but if we hadn't taken the normal game out first, these things would have eaten them."

Cordel was leaning on the old wall with his hands behind his head and a pipe in his mouth. Removing the pipe from his lips, he tilted his head, letting his long brown braid of hair fall off his shoulder. Puffing some smoke out with a sigh, his gaze turned to the strong hunter.

"So what are our chances of running into whatever is causing these mighty creatures to flee?"

"The biggest game we have come across was the Dire Warg that killed most of my men" Brenil explained. "That beast was bigger than two of our horses and it was limping before it found us! Lother got lucky driving his daggers through the eye of that beast and through its skull."

"Hence..." Lother interjected. "Why we keep our swords sharp."

"Aaaaaand... you had how many in your group? Can six and a half really take a beast that large" Jethas asked.

"'ey! I've killed wolves before" James piped up.

It was the young boy taking his attention away from the fire to protest which allowed him to notice the two others walking down the road. Leaning over in the direction of the open part of the wall, he left from his seat to look around the corner.

Ruby and Duffy would see a young man with messy brown hair peeking around the broken part of the wall, waving at them. Though young, he had a sword sheathed at one side, and a holstered hatchet in the other. The boy turned his attention back to the group who stopped talking to bring the lad their full attention.

"There are two humans coming down the road!"

[Ruby]

It took Ruby several languishing seconds for the sudden emergence of strangers to make an impact on her. Her smile faded, her mood soured, and her sword flashed into light with a strike of silver in the cover of the Lindequalmë. The brown haired youth had sparked something in the back of her mind, only for doubts to be quashed then the strangers in the distance heckled their arrival for all the foul creatures of Raiaera’s cursed heart to hear.

“Human?” she smirked. “Oh please, do not tell me the first creatures we find are blasted elves with lofty ideals?” she glanced at Duffy, somewhat perturbed, before she stepped in front of the bard to defend his weakened state against potential aggressors. She waited a moment, before silence reigned, and the forest returned to its soft dance of dead leaves in the dirty trees.

When the stranger disappeared out of sight, the spell singer jumped to the natural conclusion that their arrival was unexpected. Hunters were always roaming the frontier of the forest, but in recent months, she had not expected anyone to have remained here. Death had a way with even the bravest of creatures, driving them away in times of trouble.

“I think we should tread with more care, and certainly with less arrogance, Ruby.” Duffy said meekly. His nerves got the better of him, and dampened his ability to sedate Ruby’s fiery temperament. If he had not been so cold, tired, and weak, he might have put up a better defence against his companion’s smouldering glare.

“Stop being weak, Duffy. If there is someone out here in times like these, then perhaps faith has not left these woods as we first assumed.” She wagged her tongue, crossed her blade through the cold air in a flourish of melodic motion, and then turned her attentions back to the road ahead. The elf had shouted back to somebody, and the Spellsinger could only hope that they would not meet obstruction in their pursuit of answers.

“Hello there, fellows of the song, we mean you no harm!” she shouted. Her voice hit the soft silence with a thud, but made no violent impact, and left her in an aura of calm, friendliness, and helpful echo. She, realising she had been too hasty, sheathed Lucrezia, her mithril blade, and let her hands drop to her sides with a buoyant waver.

“Would you let us sing a verse with you, way kin?” Duffy added, not too haughty to forget the ancient traditions of the blade singers. Whilst he retained his doubts that the group ahead were of the high tenets, it did not hurt to remain vigilant. He had little grasped of the fineries of Raiaera culture to realise that in speaking the ways of old as a supposed human, he may in fact have been causing grave insult. They were not human, though, and thus not bound to the ancient enmity and prejudice of the elves.

Ruby clocked him a glare, but advanced with a swagger in her hips despite her concern. She held no such reservation about bowing to convention. Her boots crushed the dead leaves into the dirty ground, and her heart beat along with the swoon of the forest’s strange atmosphere. Her red dress, eternally crimson, grey, and shadow blue glimmered as the sun poked through the cracks in the canopy and blanched the graveyard coloured earth.

“We are hunting for a beast as foul as the Forgotten Ones, might we share tales of the trail good sirs?” her voice tempered into a firm, but kind tone. Her eyes did not exactly shine, but all the same, there was warmth in her pupils that betrayed her icy exterior.

"Oh I love playing second lead..." he grumbled. Duffy, reluctantly, clipped out a rhythm on the rubble with his cane as he followed Ruby hastily.

[Celestus]

They hesitated to greet the call, particularly when the human called them “way kin”, and spoke as if he had been an elf for a millennium. Staring at one another with wary glances at one another trying to come to a consensus, the woman finally stated their intentions. Apparently, they had either answered the call for help from one of the taverns nearby.

“Curious…” Lother said, breaking the awkward silence.

“I can go with Lidas” Bryce offered.

The group nodded, agreeing that letting the one who could talk to others well would work best in diplomacy. Arialidas nodded and motioned Bryce to come follow him. James as curious and followed his father outside of the shelter. From there, the masked elf emerged with a middle-aged human who was balding, but was husky with an axe strapped to his shoulders. The lad was barely twelve, and kept an eye on Ruby from behind his papa.

“She’s pretty, papa!”

“Now, son! You’re a few years too early to start that sort of shenanigans! Hahaha!”

Elven armor was always intricate, and the one on this elf was no exception. Curiously, he had a leather mask over the left side of his face, only the burn-withered part of his ear giving a hint as to what it hid. His eyes seemed no worse for wear despite this fact, his sharp blue eyes being a contrast to the earthen colors he wore even with his fur cloak. Black was his hair, and in many long braids, but what was interesting were the many bone bangles that dangled from his hair. Using his staff as a walking stick, the elf approached Duffy and Ruby with a warm smile.

“I would enjoy a good tune, my friends. My name is Arialidas. This is my friend Bryce and his son James.”

Bryce extended his hand to Duffy with a friendly ear-to-ear grin while James just kept staring at Ruby with a little flush to his cheeks. Shyly gazing, then looking away from Ruby, all he could do was smile and giggle at the lovely lady before him.

“Did you come from the letters sent by the Tel Taurir? With as short-handed as we are, you are more than welcome to join us. The last three trips I have made hunting, I’ve always ended up with at least one scratch. Right now, we are seeing what kind of predators are in the area to look at our records at what could be chasing them so close to the edge.”

“Been mostly large cats and wolves…” Bryce added. “I’m a bone crafter an’ I’ve been getting a lot of the game these hunters have been bringing in for their bones. All I know is that this thing’s got jaws er somethin’ else that can crush a Dire Worg’s lower leg to splinters. Seems a favorite tactic of the beast… no teeth indents at all, just a clamp an’ a crush.”

“We are just having breakfast. The others have more details to piece together. A fresh perspective would be welcome” Arialidas offered.

“Uhm… I’m James!”

Arialiadas and Bryce both turned to the lad who was still swooning over Ruby. His hands were in his pockets as he looked to the grassy floor with shuffling feet. The proud father mustered a guffaw at the expense of his shy son.

“That’s my boy! Hahaha! Lidas, why don’t you show him how to greet a lady!”

“With… due respect, she seems to already be with a gentleman. I would not desire to show disrespect.”

“Bah! Lidas! You and yer soft heart can win over any-“

“Bryce!”

Pink was his right cheek as a flush crept across Arialidas’ cheeks. Soon his expression mirrored the boy, though he was able to keep his composure in front of the Singer. Taking a deep breath, Arialidas gave an apologetic look to Duffy in the event the two were a couple.

“James, when a lady is with another man, it is not polite to stare. It could be her beloved or her older brother, both of whom would be more than capable of rapping you over the head with a stick or worse.”

Another guffaw followed by a chuckle echoed through the shelter as the others who were listening in started laughing loud enough to be heard even by the roadside.

“Only you, Lidas! Hahahaha!”
“I needed a good laugh!”

“Am I wrong?” Lidas inquired to the merry group at the shelter.

[Ruby]

“Entirely,” Ruby spat, though more with an age old tiredness with constantly being mistaken for Duffy’s wife, than out of spite or loathing. Everywhere it went, it seemed, and people assumed the bard was her betrothed. The truth was entirely more innocent than the young man had suggested. She shrugged half-hearted, turned to face the bard, and waved over Duffy’s form. “This is Duffy Bracken, playwright, thespian, and a dab hand with blade singing.” She pursed her lips sourly, to stave off the need to add insult to her description, but levelled it back into a soft smile when she turned back to the troupe of elves.

“She, good sir, is Mrs Ruby Winchester. She is both lecturer at the Istien University, thespian, and dutiful wife to the good sir Leopold Winchester.” He smiled with considerably more warmth than the grey haired matriarch could manage, “a man you might not Is not myself. I am flattered, all the same,” he chuckled, which was echoed in kind from some of the motley group.

“We have not come on the merit of these ‘Tel Taurir’, however.” Ruby added with considerable haste, keen to sweep the matter firmly under the rug. She had traipsed through this cursed land for long enough, without testing her patience further on needless frivolities. She waved an indignant hand over the gathered group, pointing at each in turn and taking in the finer nuances of their enigmatic appearance. They seemed road worthy, but naïve perhaps, as to what awaited them if they ventured deeper into the Lindequalmë.

She stopped when she set her eyes on the child peering out from behind his father’s bulwark figure. Her cold façade faded for a moment as she nodded thanks, “thank you young sir,” she said, almost forgetting her manners for the compliment he had paid her.

“If you are shorthanded, then it is quite fortunate we have crossed one another’s paths.” Duffy interrupted, pushing the mood and tone of their encounter back towards friendly. He ruffled his black matt of hair, adjusted his walking cane, and made a subtle show of the rising discomfort in his lower right shin. It had eased off into a dull ache on their journey, and the road had stolen away the constant pressing concern on the bard’s consciousness to rest, ease it off with alcohol, and wallow in the misery it caused him. Motionless, he could no longer forget. “We would be honoured to join you,” he half sang.

Ruby looked to Lidas, who seemed the merriest of the group, and in Ruby’s eyes, he was thus the first port of call. “I am afraid our tale is vocal, if you so enjoy a tune, as I expect you all do, and not just Ariadlas, then show us to your camp, strike a string, and let us recount the tale of the Bloodwrought Hellion that we hunt, it would seem, together!” she clapped, her theatrical background overpowering her womanly etiquette. Duffy rolled his eyes.

“I am not sure I know any songs that would be appropriate to summarise the grinding of bones and the death of many into short, neat, and rhythmic verses.” His lips parsed, turning a shade of red that matched the crimson environment that loomed ominously overhead. The Red Forest was not just a ruby landscape, but a red weight on the shoulders that whispered danger and succubus dreams into your ear. The Forgotten One Pode was said to not just reside in these woods, but she herself had become one with the knotted boughs and acrid flow of the stagnating inner dykes.

Ruby rolled her eyes right back at him, “Come, Duffy, my dear, let us see what can be done about our mutual adversary.” She held out her hand to the bard, gesturing for him to advance and take it, and when he did, they strode into the throng of elves with chests swelling with pride and prefatory breaths. Ariadlas danced to one side and waved them back towards the camp. Both the blade singers silently thought to themselves about how much they both needed to partake in more than just song, conflict, and faith in the woods.

They both prayed for good liquor, or at worst, the poultry draught the high elves passed for wine in these war stricken lands. Anything to take off the edge would make their melody all the sweeter, and their words clearer than the birdsong that followed them.

[Celestus]

Cordel managed to calm his laughing down enough to make his way to greet the newcomers, the brown-haired one having a bright smile and a bit of sass in his stance as he leaned over by the opening of the shelter.

"Come! I have a lap harp and hard barley whiskey that I was saving for painkiller. That's quite a limp your friend has! I might have to save a little for the rest of our trip, but I can share a shot or two if that would aid Mr. Duffy's ills."

The pipe still hung from the corner of the man's mouth as he motioned the others to join him. Once inside, he patted Duffy on the shoulder as the elves made room for the new arrivals. Cordel had the honor of introducing everyone.

"The red one is Jethas, a Tel Taurir initiate. The two blonds are the brothers Brenil and Lother, veterans of the Tel Taurir. Brenil would be a Lord. I am the bard Cordel, and you met the bone-mason Bryce and his son. Arialidas is a hunter who helps the poor. He is... unique."

"A diplomatic introduction, my friend" Arialidas replied from behind Ruby and Duffy.

"Hey, I am grateful you came along! I simply have yet to get used to your theology and strange song."

"All of us have..." Jethas replied with a roll of his eyes.

Being a gentleman, Arialidas removed his fur cloak, setting it on a nice seat on the ground for Ruby, bowing respectfully to their new guest. Bryce simply nudged his son with his elbow and smiled.

"See, boy. That's how you treat a lady!"

"Paaaaa!"

Ignoring the two, Arialidas turned his attention to Duffy and his walking stick. Meanwhile, Cordel rummaged through his things to bring out his small lap harp. Leaning against the wall of the shelter, he began to tune it, giving a few good plinks on the strings before finding a small and simple tune to warm up with.

"Would you need a log or something else to prop your leg up?"

"Sitting on the ground and letting it stretch a bit might be best" Brenil interrupted.

The meat was roasting on an iron grate over the fire, and it appeared almost finished as Lother took the eggs on a nearby iron skillet and flipped the large scramble. There were a few minutes allowing everyone to settle down before the meat was passed around on tin plates with bits of egg. Lother, being the cook of the group, opened a box which still had some eggs and butter remaining.

"I got some jerky to go with this if you are interested."

"Ah! I almost forgot the Whiskey! Do you have your tankards?" Cordel piped up.

Cordel shared his hospitality, offering the two new faces his bottle.

Despite the comforts of the camp, it was as if the dream was surging up again... Ruby would start recalling the nightmare she had. The lonely forest whispering in the wind, though everything was clear and real, color was hard to determine. Snapping sounds came from above like branches being broken, similar to what Duffy had seen earlier, but all of them were above her. Twigs and branches falling from the sky. She unsheathed her sword, waiting for something to come out of the wood and attack, and a wolf leapt up from the foliage nearby only to mysteriously vanish with the area in front of her appearing as the air above a fire... wavy and dancing. The area around her suddenly started to be filled with these waves, an invisible force slithering around the branches above and around her. Trying to pierce her sword into something, there was a loud pop, and air blustering. Before her opened a maw with many teeth. As she screamed, she noticed that her voice was abnormally high. Almost squeaking.

"The gods bless our nourishment and bring us enlightenment" Arialidas prayed before taking a nice bite out of his meat.

Cordel and Jethas almost seemed to sigh in unison, but the two brothers merely nodded and continued their meal. After quickly eating his meal, Cordel took up his lap harp and started a basic tune with a slow rhythm to get the meeting started right. Brenil leaned forward a bit to include his information with everyone, his eyes gathering everyone in and demanding their attention. Brenil assessed everyone in the room, particularly eyeing Ruby and Arialidas. Eying Ruby's blade as well as the confidence in how she walked, he was not worried, but wondered if her nature was meant for hunting beasts rather than men. While Arialidas had experience in felling beasts, however, he was the least experienced of the group next to James. Still, he was more of a rabbits foot than anything else.

"We can unwind a little bit while we discuss our strategy. Loose muscles and relaxed nerves tend to help for accuracy. All of us have been too tense going into this, not knowing what to expect completely. Perhaps Lady Ruby would have an insight on Lidas' strange song."

"Mi'lord?" Arialidas replied, looking up from eating his meal.

"Our guests shall decide who has the first song. They have traveled long as well, and it shall be their pleasure as to whom shall begin."

[absentwizard]

Iila looked up and tilted her head. There was music in the forest and it wasn't hers. That sort of thing hasn't happened since the night when her house burnt down. She listened for a few second longer, just barely catching the notes on the faint breeze. This was much different from the righteous, monotone chanting of a mob. It was pretty in a way that Iila had never before known.

The small woman straightened up and dropped the handful of tiny violet flowers into a pouch. The untouched, curled-up corpse of a beetle tumbled free from the bunch and landed unnoticed in the mean shrub that Iila was picking from. There'll be time to pulp and store the ingredients later; the present time was an opportunity to see and hear new and interesting things. First, though, she took a few wobbly seconds to wait for the blood to rush back into her head.

Iila reached back and unerringly picked her doll Zanhae up off of a low bough. It will be simple to follow her ears to that music and stop somewhere close enough to listen while hiding behind a tree. She liked hiding behind trees because it didn't take a very big tree for someone like her and it took a lot of shrub to hide her hair under. The thought to cut it somewhere above the ankle had never crossed Iila's mind. It wasn't traditional.

Eight minutes later, Iila had started breathing heavily and stopped to assess the two key problems with her new situation. Firstly, she was newly misplaced. Not newly lost, of course, because she has had no idea where she was starting the very day that she had left her little patch of familiar ground in the Red Forest. She was misplaced because she had been walking for some time and the music seemed to be no closer than before.

Secondly, she was hungry. This was disturbing because the unpleasant feeling of belly hunger that had been a near-constant companion for the last decade. She had gotten so used to it that it barely registered and her belly rarely bothered to voice anything anymore. The sudden, intense attack of hunger caught Iila completely off-guard.

She leaned against a hiding-sized tree to catch her breath and try to tease apart the confusion. That was when she noticed the different air here. Underneath the thick, mossy scent of the bark behind her, there was the distinct aroma of cooked meat. It wasn't the smell of the occasional roast patridge that Iila managed for herself, either. This was the thick, heady sort of smell could possibly be coming from someone putting half a doe on the spit.

With the aid of both the music and the meat-scent, Iila finally managed to get close enough to spot a flicker of firelight a couple of trees away. Then she found another hiding-sized tree and sat down against it. She rested Zanhae in her lap and dug around in another pouch, eventually coming up with a handful of ash tree seeds. She sighed and smiled faintly. There was food, music, and a pleasant smell; that makes the best supper she'll have in a long time. If only her belly, restless after being reminded of distant memories, would stop grumbling, everything would be just perfect.

Iila cupped the seeds in her hands and, slowly, began to eat.

[Ruby]

The sheer amount of thank yours Ruby offered to their guests between each compliment, curtsy, and show of hospitality began to grate on Duffy. It was not because he was an ungrateful man, but more so because despite their intentions, nothing could truly aid his woes. His wounds were not caused by mortal interventions, and thus, no mortal cure could salve the pain that sprang up from his calf and grated his nerves to their wit’s end. He shuffled on the log, and glanced to his female counterpart eagerly.

“Ruby is well versed in the spell songs of many cultures, having spent many years studying them in earnest.” He nodded his head left and right, like a curious bird unsure of himself. “So it is only fitting that she decides,” He swallowed his reservations, “on how to instigate this merry gathering.” With a courtly hand, he waved away the doting elf who tried to get him to straighten his leg, but with another, he took the cup of whiskey and sniffed it gingerly.

“Is it to your liking?” Cordel enquired a sparkle in his eye that was born half of mischief, and half of compassion. Duffy returned it with a roguish grin and a nod. An owl ruffled its feathers, and crows cawed in the distance. Everything seemed, at least for the Red Forest, to be just so.

“The day Duffy Bracken turns down a free drink is the day Xem’Zund returns and the sky falls on man without ceremony or warning.” Ruby said sternly. Despite her put down, she said it all with humour concealed beneath the blunt daggers and barbed stare. Duffy raised the tankard in her honour, nodded, and took a hefty draught of the amber, fiery, and deliciously subtle liquor. He instantly relaxed, and the pain of his injuries, perhaps not as resilient to mortal medicines as he had presumed, seemed to become fainter, echoing, and unimportant.

“Perhaps,” Ruby began, curling her lip into a half formed smile, before it curled down into a frown. She turned the tankard in between the fingers of both her hands, and stared at the crystalline surface of her drink, as if to attempt to divine meaning and augury in its depths. She saw only a hangover, and bade it no more interest. “Perhaps it would be in the tradition of being good guests for us to sing first, perhaps not,” she had lived outside of Raiaera too long to remember. “I feel the need to sing, however, so allow me.”

There was a sudden rise in the tension in the clearing, though it was more in anticipation for the coming performance than in the face of an unseen danger. Feet shuffled, throats cleared, and somewhere a wolf howled. Ruby took a more lady like draught of her drink than Duffy had, before she set it next to her fur lined throne of nature’s bark and pushed herself upright. Several of the troupes made to help her, but she waved them away long before their muscles had righted their lithe forms to be of any use. They slumped back to their resting positions, deflated at being cast aside.
The owl overhead turned its head through one final and full rotation before it ruffled its tawny feathers and fled. The wolf stopped howling, and it seemed to grow darker through the trees, as if time was turning outside the forest, but in the red copses and crimson thickets, the world was pausing to wait, observe, and witness.

“I know not of your peculiar form,” she nodded to Lidas, recognising a kinship in him that she did not yet know how to explain. “I can only hope to tantalise,” Duffy rolled his eyes at the play on their former troupe’s title, and then rested back on one extended arm lounging in his companion’s coming spectacle.

Ruby began to sing.

“My heart beats true with pyroclasm,
A conceited wave of flame,
I wish that I could quench this heat,
Scour from my mind God’s name.”

No sooner than she had finished the opening verse of her fallacy driven ode, the forest sprang to life. Orbs, as big as grapefruit danced out from behind the trees at the edge of the clearing. There were some thirty or so in total, though Duffy could not count them quick enough before they disappeared. When her voice gathered again, they re-emerged, as if she were a siren luring ocean flames to her lair. They were red, yellow, gold, orange, pepper, and midnight in hue. The elves were transfixed.

“My mind succumbs to icicles,
Lanced by the northern gale,
I wish that I was a tempered blaze,
Not beaten black with hail.”

Duffy cocked his ear to the tree line, disinterested in the second verse’s bridge that faded into nothing as his heart skipped a beat. He heard a twig crack, a soul shake, and paths cross beyond the tree line. Something in the red forest had noticed them.

“My feet they ache like grinding stones,
Wearing thinner by the hour,
I wish that I could bolster strength,
Feel unbound by natural power.”

As the will-o-wisp died, scattered to dust, Ruby bowed to applause, and Duffy clapped to bring their attentions to him.

“We are not alone…” he said ominously, with the rasp of a snake, and the cursing of a fearing man.

[absentwizard]

The last of the unborn trees gave up its life under the silently howling maelstrom in Iila's hands. Hunger recognized no sentiments and no romances. What began as a trickle grew steadily into a ragged cascade as the bit of her mind that tasted lost life demanded greater and greater intensity. The supernatural teeth that tore at each seed's life bore a metaphorical resemblance to an entire pack of ravenous wolves, save that Iila's hunger will never be sated.

It would be inexact to say that Iila was out of control. She had only a hearsay, theoretical concept of dining in the company of music or in the company of others. Of pacing, she had no idea at all. So when the little ravenous monster in her subconscious asked for more, there were no naysayers and the motion was passed.

A handful of slightly browned seeds tumbled into the grass. Iila brushed off her hands, tugged her fingerless gloves back on, and picked up her embroidery work. She had left off doing the sleeves on the dress because she hadn't been sure where the elbow would bend once Minya put it on. Having Minya put it on solved it and Iila had pinned the sleeves to mark the spot, then gone to look for flowers.

There was something different about the dress now, several hours later. Iila glared reproachfully at the sleeves that were distinctly pin-less. At least she didn't use any of the good ones. Maybe some day, someone walking in the woods would feel a prick in the foot and wonder at the sliver of metal sticking in it.

"<Minya>"

Something in Iila's basket stirred. A small hand lifted the hinged lid from within and Minya's glassy blue eyes peered up at Iila.

"<Put this on>"

"<Yay!>"

Iila hesitated to deflate her skyclad doll's delight when Minya jumped bodily out of the basket, upsetting it. It wobbled until it banged up against the tree root, The impact disgorged another doll in a green dress and sent her tumbling over teakettles into a patch of creeper.

"<Umm, I need to measure again. It's not done.>"

The disappointment came thick over the telempathic link through Minya's String. Minya held up the dress and blinked at the unfinished portions for a few exaggerated seconds before pulling it over her head. Iila reached out to help.

"<Minya!>" Sanai righted herself in a flurry of skirt, bloomer, and ribbon. She flounced up and, grasping Minya by the collar that was still around her ears, began to shake her sister like a rattle.

"<...Kicked me in the face! Upset the basket! Idiot! Wearing dress wrong!>"

Minya, for her part, flailed wildly and failed to twist out of her bind, "<Can't see! I'm sorry Sanai! Let go! Please, sis? Can't see!">

Bap.

In the silence filled with Ruby's singing, Iila was about politely break up the fight with a second knitting needle to Sanai's head when she froze. She seems to have been ambushed by glowing, flaming, flying balls from every direction. Minya slowly pulled her head through the collar, Sanai slowly let go of the collar, and Iila slowly packed away her kit.

"<Minya, Sanai. In.>"

"<But Sanai...!>"

"<Be good. Zanhae.>"

A doll in a blue dress slipped red-ribbon-first out of the basket, holding the lid open for her two sisters to climb in. She turned her black eyes to Iila. The lid stayed a little open while two blue eyes and two green eyes peered enviously from beneath. Iila drew out a #1 sewing needle and handed the five inches of gleaming steel to her fiercest doll, who slipped it the back of her dress.

"<Village Rules>" Iila instructed as she picked up Zanhae in one hand. Zanhae acknowledged by going limp; she never was the most talkative of her sisters. Iila stood, dusted herself off, and hooked one elbow around her basket. They seemed like nice enough people, over there; maybe curiosity should get the better of caution today. Iila stood there for a little while, gathering courage, waiting for head to stop spinning, and noticing that the lights have faded away. Then in one movement, she turned her way around the trunk of the hiding-tree and towards the firelight. There was a branch.

Clonk.

A soft, pained "eeeee" drifted through the forest.