View Full Version : The Living Villa
House of Sora initiation thread. Closed to Xos.
Wrae Launcey had first been presented with the idea of faction association two nights into his port leave. At the time the prospect had been moot, his ship destined to once again make sea within the week. But with the advent of a night of drink and a sudden departure, Wrae had found himself without ship or pay. A visit to the dockmaster had revealed little more, except that repairs had not in fact been completed, although all stock had been transferred to the below-decks.
“But ’ear!” had cried the leathery overseer. “’S’mornin’ my men found all ’ell in store’ouse nine. Fockin’ mess. Fockin’ food an’ t’drink spilt ever’where, cloth and fine leather spoilt fer like they was nothin’. Cost me a fockin’ fortune to clean!”
The items in question had been the exact contents of the Aequitus. How and why they had been deposited so suddenly and carelessly were questions destined to remain unanswered in the immediate future.
Wrae stretched and drew in blue air. Here he was in Etheria Port, Alerar, almost a month after the fact.
Timbers felt truer under his feet than soddy ground. The sea reached out its thousand arms at his back, and he faced the rising sun. Orange and purple over asymmetrical waves. Red on golden canvas over the spilling shores. Morning at the docks. A deep breath in, sweet revelry in the calm of swaying ships and sweating workers. The Sea never slept, and before an eye was open in the great cities, seamen woke to its calm whisper.
The House of Sora. Dylan had provided him with this assignment as a proof of allegiance, but Wrae also realized that a certain weight rested on him in his endeavor to secure a base of operation for the House. The classic irony of a free spirit in search of home did not escape the somewhat introverted navigator. Nevertheless, his particular strengths had suited the task, and he had gladly seized the chance for employment and security. Wrae fostered no ambitions of going through life alone.
A village of sorts, endowed with vague suspicion and apparently uninhabited, was said to exist somewhere in the surrounding Fields. This village was the object of his search, and in this Port he hoped with his fingers crossed to pick up the proverbial scent. His mind turned to the moment.
Athi slept, his beak buried in his neck feathers. Neither had Wrae’s traveling companion, Xos, made his waking appearance as of yet. The navigator knew little of his partner’s background, but had an impression from somewhere that the fellow was one of these magicians. Wrae would readily admit his ignorance of the subject. For this reason he had approached the young man. Painfully thin, Wrae’s insecurities about his own elongated physique had been quashed. But the chap was ready and apparently able to meet the challenges of a dimension of reality about which Wrae knew, as it was said, squat.
“Xos;” wrote Wrae,
“I’m in town. Finding out about the village. I’ll be at the Ape’s Platter by three. If you please.
“Wrae.”
The note was brief, but then so usually was his dialogue.
Late morning stirred to life. Children, women, everywhere. Elves made up an undeniable majority. Uncommon scenes to eyes so often bent across the pale scope of waves and clouds. Cobbled streets crisscrossing one another in a futility of raucous bustle. A child with its small white hand on a mother’s skirts. Carriages and fish carts. Greying beards over preened tan vests and coats. Brisk girls in subdued colors going about business. Two old men with their rumors and pipes. And on every corner, voices raised and vendors rising from the dust of their day-old footprints.
A word here, an inquiry there. His voice left hanging in corners, between walls.
The sun rose to its height, and stagnant night fled the pulse of a wakeful city.
Xos practicly fell of the ship as it pulled into port, its name, still unknown to him. The Sea was not on his list of friends, and it seemed to know this, as it tossed this ship about. At least that's what it felt like to Xos. The Truth was, one could not have asked for more beautiful sailing weather.
"Ugh, where's an inertia dampner when you need one?" Xos asked no one in particular. He had not yet gotten entirely used to this strange new world, longing for his High-tech futuristic homeworld. His body seemed to be adjusting though, and as he scratched at his skin for at least the hundredth time that day, he scratched off a small layer of skin in the shape of a scale.
He muttered something under his skin and pulled out his Nihon staff, getting to his feet as he did so. He walked towards the docks a bit unshaky. He marvled as he stepped foot on Dry land at the beauty of Alerarian Archetecture. Then he marvled at the beauty of the Alerarians themselves, most especially the women. He had honestly never seen an elf before, and in a country where elves were the dominant species, it was remarkably hard not to see one. Of course, Xos was an unusual looking fellow himself in his Wizard robes decorated with Scientific symbols intermingling with arcane magical symbols.
Then he remembered why he was here. In his efforts to find a benefactor that would support his studies, Xos had stumbled accross the House of Sora. Realising the potential for a mutually beneficial relationship, Xos sought membership within the house, most specifically, he was intrested in the lodge Vespara. However to let a random stranger into one's house was very trsuting, and in a world where one could be betrayed even by close friends, it was important to prove one's worth and trustworthyness.
That was how he had come meet Wrae, Ware was out looking for a base of operations for the house, and had some silly legend about an abandoned village in mind to investigate. He had spent a good deal of time looking for Wrae, when a note had come into Xos's possession.
"Xos;
“I’m in town. Finding out about the village. I’ll be at the Ape’s Platter by three. If you please.
Wrae.”
And so just as three rolled around, Xos stepped into the Ape's Platter, having only now found it.
Xos took the fashionably darkened booth in the corner where he wouldn't be disturbed while still maintaining a good view of the establishment. There he waited for Wrae, while working on developing his ability to conjur up electricty, and failing to produce more than a few random sparks.
In the privacy of his skull, Wrae had been kicking himself over the last two hours. Annoyed with his lack of social projection. Frustrated with inane insecurities.
It’s not that elves are so unusual, he berated himself. I don’t communicate. I can’t fucking communicate.
Hours and conversations ran into inarticulate streams of extended consciousness. Wrae’s curt approach might have been valuable in mercantile dilemmas over the course of his experience, but served him little in a search for answers in the realm of near-myth. A lost village. A disreputable mystery. The topic was grey, and the inquirer unsubtle. His focus wilted in the magnified pressure of social assertion.
“Excuse me, thanks,” he sputtered, concluding yet another meaningless exchange with a younger woman robed regally in dated rags. Parts and pieces of significance had reached his ears, and mentally he sorted through them.
One. The existence of an uninhabited village is confirmed by popular consensus. No one can provide a first-hand account.
Two. Magic is frequently referenced as a source of disaster or fear.
Three. The locale is most often described as the “Redwood Village.” No specific explanation.
These made up the entirety of his knowledge on the subject. With an exasperated shake of his head, Wrae made his way toward the Ape’s Platter. Some of the older denizens of the area had sworn by its quality and fine service. This had been quite more than enough for a man so utterly unfamiliar to Alerar.
As his feet scraped over another length of worn thoroughfare, Wrae found himself attached by the arm to a moderately well-dressed Alerarian of average height and appearance. The middle-aged man’s straight nose and thin eyes overlooked their surroundings in a roving arc.
“You’re looking for something,” stated the stranger in the common tongue as they continued to walk.
Wrae took in his assailant’s gesticulating spasms with some surprise.
“Redwood Village, I’m told,” he replied clearly.
The unusual man’s brightly blue eyes drew wide for a moment as he turned briefly to face his captive audience.
“You should know that no one has successfully entered that damned village in years,” he informed Wrae categorically.
“Well,” answered the navigator slowly, “I have reason to make a visit. If you’d excuse me—”
The Drow froze.
“Why must you go?”
Wrae paused.
“I represent the House of Sora. I’m scouting for a home,” he replied.
“The House of Sora,” repeated the stranger. “I haven’t heard of it before. Why would they be interested in Redwood Village?”
Unsure as to how much he ought to reveal, the seaman paused again before speaking.
“We’re a civil improvement society,” he simplified. “We build, trade and develop. I need to secure a base of operations.”
The stranger huddled into his dull tunic, a moment of contemplation evidently holding his attention.
“Follow the Aberhaut north,” he finally began to explain, “until you reach White Rock. Turn right onto the unmarked path. Redwood Village will be several miles along the path. You cannot fail to find it, but do be cautious. The village itself.. seems to have an appetite. There is very little else to say. I hope everything ends well. Good luck, stranger.”
And with that, the bold individual became indistinguishable from the fluid bustle.
Wrae arched his back and speculated quietly as his spine crackled with released tension. It was easily past three, and with this in mind he arrived at the Ape’s Platter. A large, open doorway gave way to an intimately crowded setting. The afternoon was well on, and the older segment of the population had begun to gather. Clear glasses displayed brews of various hues of yellow, brown and red. Food and drink spread out comfortably amongst groups of chatting patrons. A single bar lay across the better part of the near right wall. Intermittent sparking in one corner caught the navigator’s eye like a match, and slenderly towering shadow increased his suspicions.
Wrae proceeded to the darker corner wherein his new companion had established himself.
“Good afternoon,” he probed. “Xos?”
He prepared tentatively to take a seat.
When Wrae first spoke to Xos where Xos had been sitting, he had been sitting in the darkest part of the booth meditiating. His eyes snapped open, and in the darkness, they glowed.
"Try not to startle me like that again." He said.
He scooted over into the light. His skin seemed to have turned a light pale green, but that could've been a trick of the light.
"So, I assume you are Wrae Launcey. Unless you desire something to eat or drink, I find little purpose to remaining here, instead of moving towards this supposedly abandoned village. I'm sure we can talk on the road, unless you wanted to stop and get some basic traveling supplies before we left." Xos said. That was Xos alright, quick to get to the point. More than anything, he wanted to get to studying this village and find out why it was abandoned.
Xos looked at his traveling companion, drumming his long nails on the table.
The magician doesn’t play games, noted Wrae. I think we'll get along.
He took in the clutter of unusual symbols that presided over Xos’ outfit. Through and through, Wrae’s partner was an enigma to him, as was his practise.
“Sorry,” answered the navigator sincerely. “No, I don’t think I need anything else.”
Wrae patted the waterskin on his left thigh, and did not sit down. He had eaten sufficiently that morning, and had brought nothing more. Long days at the wheel of a ship, trade schedules torn to hell by the seas, he was no stranger to labor without food. The human body was undeniably resilient, although Wrae would have chosen a hot meal every time if such a thing were available.
“The village is called Redwood. We need to take the Aberhaut,” he continued, “until we reach White Rock. There’ll be a trail to the village from there.”
The nameless stranger fluttered to the surface of Wrae’s mind as he regurgitated directions. It was time to set out. There would be time to inquire after the man when the business at hand had been dealt with.
“The Aberhaut is a major road leading north from Etheria Port. If you’re ready, we’ll start,” he explained, drawing on gathered knowledge.
Glasses slid roughly over tables and barmaids struggled through a mosaic of chairs and tables. The door gaped to admit another few weary, and the sailor in Wrae quite wished he were staying longer. Shouts erupted outside as he studied his companion and silently played out their planned course of action.
Find Redwood Village.
Eliminate any threats.
Report to Seti Dylan.
Xos stood and walked over to the door holding the door open for Wrae.
"Even if it is a road, Aberhaut and white rock are just names to me. Lead the way." Xos said as he looked to see what the shouting was over.
He wondered how long the journey would take, and idly wished he had a bicycle or horse to ride there. He shimmied up and down against the door frame as his shoulders itched.
“I hear you,” replied Wrae, hoping the names would somehow translate into concrete fact.
A clamor of raised voices and breaking glass startled the reserved navigator for the second time. A sound he had not heard since the Ionian conflict reverberated in the streets, a scattered collection of brief explosions. Gunfire.
“What the fuck?” he inquired generally.
In a few quick steps he had traversed the length of the bar, headed towards the door. Conversation had quieted, and those sitting nearest the entrance had withdrawn to the interior walls. Wrae peered into the street.
A Drow lay prone in the relative safety of the doorway of a home across the street. With stunted movements in the limited shelter, his hands worked feverishly at the inconveniences of the modern firearm. Reaching into a pouch that lay in the dust at his hip, the young man hurried through the process of reloading his small flintlock. A short ramrod pushed its way into the barrel, and the process was complete. Without hesitation, he rose, taking the pouch in his free hand, and ran toward the next free arch of a doorway. A second before reaching his goal, a shot rang out and the Drow spun about in a complete rotation, landing on his right shoulder on the hard stone of the street. In the same moment, his hand had responded instantly, and a flash of fire erupted from the barrel of his pistol into the sky. Rising with shocking alacrity to his knees, the victim produced an identical weapon from his right hip, pausing to locate his aggressor. The pause proved deadly, as from the low roof above him a second male Drow, in light military dress, dropped onto his shoulders. A firm thrust with his short blade assured the second man of his victory, and he had soon disappeared from view.
Wrae turned in confusion. Large, female eyes met his. A sequence of unknown words followed the gaze, and he felt a great deal of sadness he could interpret no better than the speech that met his ringing ears.
“Nothing new here, stranger. They don’t know when to stop,” offered the unimposing barkeeper.
“Who were they?” asked the navigator.
“Our sons and nephews,” answered the proprietor, and turned back to the demands of his occupation.
Wrae turned again to the aftermath. Men and women seemed to emerge from the ground, returning to whatever they had been doing a minute previous. The young Drow lay still and wet in death.
Alerar. Every hour he failed to make the necessary connections, and the unknowns of the region grew over his mind like a swamp.
The barkeeper proved geographically knowledgeable, so with no further ado, Wrae took his leave of the humid den.
“I suppose,” stated the seaman, “we’ll get out now.”
With a glance at his companion, he set out for Redwood Village.
As the first shot rang out, Xos was startled.
"Guns? Here?!" He said excitedly. possiblities spun through his mind like a troop of ballet dancers performing the Nutcracker suite by Pyotr Ilich Tchaikovsky.
The next to shots brought him back to his senses, and he erected an Energy Shield in the doorway. He was confident it would be strong enough to stop at least one gunshot. Self preservation instincts told him to sto spinning through fantasies and look out for his own skin.
Then the Military Drow stabbed the gunfighter. the guns were a bit out of date to him, but still. then he realised the drow was dead, and never coming back again. Xos bowed his head, in respect for the loss of life.
"Whatever happened to policemen, and non-brutal law enforcement? I dont know why he was fighting, but surely there was a more peaceful solution." Xos said. He was angry, and it showed, arcane energy crackled along his body. He disapated his own shield, and stepped outside.He followed Wrae, who surely would be aware of the silently boiling Wizard behind him.
Eventually he would calm down, but this mockery of justice and civil law enforcement outraged him.
Out on the road, his energy subsided, but he was still enfuriated.
They were finally on their way. The navigator put the troubled morning from his mind; he was in his element. A stiff walk would make him right. As they left the comfortable illusion of city walls and the busy crowds, Wrae turned to the magician.
“You make magic, do you? Show me a trick?” he prodded.
He didn’t really expect the man to be terribly communicative. He wasn’t sure he wanted him to be.
“It’s supposed to be a bit of a magical village,” he continued. “You’ll fit in fine.”
He grinned halfheartedly at his mild humor. He had little idea how to address a man with a background so obviously unlike his own.
At the same time, Wrae could not help but admit to himself a sense of tension. He could locate, explore and map. If rumor held true, however, there was something distinctly sinister about their destination. The whole aura of the region was difficult to interpret for a man so long abroad. Plains of green and brown reassured the seaman in their stoic unanimity.
Sometimes, he reflected, grass and dirt aren’t so different from salt water.
The road was as unremarkable as the landscape it divided. Uniformly dull, it stretched out like a dusty line on a global map. They would follow this line to their destination. A beige rock, staggeringly large as it intruded on the nearly flat horizon, rose up steadily in the navgator’s line of sight.
White Rock, he smiled to himself.
Night poised, trustworthy, as the sun dipped to the West.
“You make magic, do you? Show me a trick?”
The words brought Xos out of his silent brooding. He idly considered chucking a fireball at him, but that was just the residual anger over the incident with the young drow speaking. Although, if he had been his best friend Ray Flarestar in his place, Ray probably would've thrown a lighter fireball out of just.
Ray, good old Ray. Back home in his own reality, Ray had been his best friend, aside from when Xos was the target of his jokes. He remembered one of Ray's most notable stunts, and the one which got him expelled for a whole year from Kessingale University. Those poor women, the Female dormitories never took showers at the same time again. Xos chuckled aloud.
"Showers." was all he said, quietly to himself.
He caught up with Wrae.
"You wanna see a trick ehh?" he asked.
Xos pulled back his sleeves, held out one hand, and then made a gear wheel appear in it. It was made of Iron. He put it in Wrae's hand so he could see for himself that it was a genuine Gear wheel from a bike.
"Its from a bike." Xos said.
"Now, that's about the safest of all my abilities. Anything else and your just going to have to hope we run into something chock full of attitude and a burning desire to kill us for som odd reason or another, and since i do not spy any brothers of Aibrone about, a friendly duel is beyond the question." Xos said.
He thought, hard. You could praciticly see thoughts running through his head. Measurements of all kinds.
"Although, a Bike really isn't any more than a collection of parts, I suppose if I really gave it some effort, I could make all the pieces to a bicycle. I mean, sure I might have to design it diffrently. I would rather wait until after I had someplace to really set up a good laboratory. You know, a place to experiment with my magic." Xos said.
Now Wrae had done it. By asking him to show him a simple trick he opened the floodgates for Xos to incessently chatter at him. Xos was talkative by nature anyway.
Night could not have come more suddenly. The sky fell into the ground, and cold obscurity grew around the traveling pair. Having passed White Rock an hour earlier, it was difficult to say where they were precisely.
Xos had found his voice earlier that day, demonstrating abilities and bragging over the contents of his proverbial sleeve. Wrae had heard of bicycles before, but was entirely unsure as to the meaning of his companion’s speculations. Gunfire troubled his thoughts. History scalded his unconscious.
Changing terrain broke the monotony. The navigator had been stumbling over raised tufts of grass for a few hundred feet when he stepped through the first bushes. It wasn’t long afterwards that only narrowly was he able to avoid encountering a tree quite intimately. With wide eyes, he ascertained the presence of several more. The trees were young redwood, towering nevertheless over the lesser vegetation. It was difficult to gauge the actual height of these future monoliths without proper lighting.
Plant life grew thick and dark. Wrae found himself fighting back vines and untangling himself from fibrous ferns below. The struggle intensified, and the staunch seaman despaired of ever reaching their destination. But the path was under his feet, and it led forward. The dense forestry gave out abruptly and the unlikely pair emerged into open air. Wrae stumbled forward, almost on his knees as he coughed out claustrophobia.
“What a day,” he addressed the magician.
Gathering his senses, Wrae made an attempt at assessing their surroundings. Nothing distinguished itself from the thick air around them. Humid vitality filled his nostrils, and the ground gave easily underfoot.
“Can’t see a fucking thing,” cursed the seaman ardently.
Redwood Village, he thought. If I didn’t know the name, I’d call it a forest. Didn’t know they had them in Alerar.
As if in response, walls began to push their way from the veil. These were low walls, designed primarily for definition and not function. In the molded screen of global shade, they were ripe with the ghosts of vine and shrub. Somehow there seemed to be a sharpness about the air, and Wrae’s hands tingled.
Athi descended with a low hoot. It was unusual, sometimes, how little the navigator actually enjoyed the benign presence of his downy companion.
“What do you think?” began Wrae. “Are we making camp?”
And he turned to his outspoken companion.
“I’m not certain I want to deal with whatever’s in there tonight. We could set up back down the trail,” he added.
Xos sharper eyes took in all the thick vegitation as night fell around them. In the dim light of the moon and stars he could still see pretty well.
"What a day.” His companion had addressed him.
As he fought his way through the vegitation, Xos became irritated.
"Leave me alone you stupid vines and let me walk in peace." Xos shouted at the plants. Then he came face to trunk with the tree Wrae missed.
"THAT'S IT! The next thing to get in my way gets a fist full of fireball!" Xos verbally threatened the innocent vegitation.
Then he broke through the clrearing.
"Yeah that's what I thought." He said, as though he had somehow intimidated the forest.
"What a day.” His Companion had addressed him.
"Indeed, if it wasn't for the Tragic and needless death of that Drow, it would've been perfect." Xos said.
He took in the sights of the clearing, but even with his keen eyesight the clearing just wasn't that visable.
Is this redwood Village? He wondered idly.
Then he noticed all the thick vine covered walls. Clearly this place had not seen habitation in quite awhile.
With a hoot, his partners bird decended. This startled Xos visably who jumped and created a fireball before realising it was just his companions pet. He shook the fireball out of existence.
“What do you think? Are we making camp? I’m not certain I want to deal with whatever’s in there tonight. We could set up back down the trail,” His Companion said.
"Well, it would be unwise to blindly charge into an unknown place without benifit of light, and besides, a good long rest will do us good. Let us return aways back up the road and make camp, I am certain the morning light will bring with it a better perspective." Xos said.
As they made their way back through the vegitation Xos growled at the vegitation entangling his path, and when they had made camp, volunteered to take first watch.
Morning broke cool and even. Wrae felt moist and somewhat sore. Redwood Village and its green shroud pulled at his feet even as he rose on stiff elbows.
In dawn's clarity the seaman knelt at a small pool and washed sleep from his face. Athi had long since left for a morning hunt.
Better to look ready, he reasoned, even if I'm not.
On his feet, he cast a look at his sleeping companion and slipped between trees. Wet leaves and damp ground whistled around him as he made his way back to where they'd been the evening prior. His own footsteps remained visible, shallow imprints testifying to the recent past.
Redwood Village. Future home for the budding House of Sora, and all his responsibility. A tingle of pride poised, threatening, at the base of his neck. A few too many years of common sense and hard work cut it off before it could take hold. Wrae and the magician had yet to accomplish anything someone else could not.
Minutes found him within the low walls of a spacious vineyard. The walls themselves were simple, bleak affairs, obscured now by ambitious nature. Laid out originally, he deduced, in a few dozen ordered rows, the plants had at this point drowned the larger part of the aisles between. From spiderweb vines hung the tiny purple fruit in countless attendance. Still drowsy with imperfect sleep, the newcomer sampled a grape, crushing it with his incisors and letting the juice run over his tongue. He spat bitterly, disappointed in the dry acid.
Sorting himself through tangled pathways, Wrae emerged at the further side.
Redwood Village.
He turned promptly, setting out to rouse the sleeping Xos.
Time to figure out why we're here, thought Wrae.
Morning came, and with it, one of Xos's many strange quirks. As the light rose and Wrae was better able to get a good look at Xos, he discovered that Xos had the remarkably weird and unsettling habit of sleeping with his eyes open.
He blinked, and sat up before Wrae could wake him.
"Good morning Wrae." Xos said as he stood up. He stretched and walked over towards the small pool Wrae had used earlier. Splashing some water on his own face he turned to his companion.
"Well, I guess we better be off." Xos said, still not one to waste any time. He set off through the vegitation wall and pushed his way through to the same courtyard Wrae had found himself in earlier.
He looked around, and everywhere he looked, he could see that nature had taken over. He looked closely at the Vines.
"Grapes!" he said. He plucked one and ate it, noticing how the entire vine seemed to shiver at being robbed of its precious bounty. Xos screwed his face up in a hilarious fashion as he swallowed the grape and its juice.
"Blargh, tastes like medicene. Oh well, beggars can't be choosers." Xos said. He snatched some more and ate a few while putting the rest in his pocket.
"So, this is redwood village? Interesting. Why don't we look around before deciding where to start?" Xos suggusted.
The navigator nodded in agreement, left hand on a sturdy leather belt. His thumb felt the smooth round end of the knife contained therein.
As the magician woke, vivacious as ever, Wrae filled his lungs consciously. On his knees he inspected the area for anything that could have slipped from a pocket in the turbulence of sleep.
Nothing. No one will know we were here a year from now, he mused.
Hair still damp, Wrae stood by as his companion washed. The two then left for the tangled vineyard.
The sky opened blue and clear overhead. The navigator traced echoes of the stars through wide leaves. Hushed breezes coursed over the hairs on his neck, and if he did not smile, his brown eyes danced. Black cherry hair in damp clumps almost to his shoulders and a jury of five o’clock shadows from the past several days judged him decisively unkempt.
“Let’s see what’s on the other side,” answered Wrae in response to his partner’s suggestion.
This said, he made a way through the crowding vines to the edge of a low fence that spread out for a half-mile both ways. The barrier was almost indistinguishable from the nesting vines that populated its posts and groped its crossbeams. If there had once been a gate of some sort under the mass that now divided village from vineyard, it was neither useful nor visible now. Wrae mounted the fence, one leg singing up and over as he lifted the other. The growth gave pleasantly under his touch.
His eyes open and searching, the navigator took in the object of his foray. If appearances did not deceive, he had entered the village from behind a line of similar stone buildings. The masonry looked strong and unstained, and perhaps more surprisingly, intact. Apart from the voracious blanket of plant life that encumbered the walls and swayed from the eaves, the structures emanated an incongruous integrity.
Most startling to a man inexperienced in botany was the overpowering presence of small cream-white flowers across the entire scene. They emerged in clusters from the densest brush, and populated walls with artistic complexity. A heavy scent thickened the air like sweet rain.
“Here we are,” offered Wrae.
Here we are.
“Let’s see what’s on the other side,” Wrae had answered in response to Xos's suggustion. Xos followed Wrae to a low fence that at first glance appeared to be made entirely of vines. However, when Xos looked a little more closely, he found an actual fence there. He looked in vain for a gate, and finding none, decided that a climb over was in order.
It seemed as if they had entered the village from behind, Xos veiwing a row of buildings from their backsides. As far as Xos xould tell, the buildings looked good, but even the buildings had been overtaken by plant life.
Almost as a field before them surrounding everything, was a blanket of small cream white flowers. They were on the buildings covering bushes and emitting the most pleasent scent.
“Here we are,” offered Wrae.
"Indeed. This place must have remained untouched for quit some time to reach this state." Xos said.
Xos made his way to the front. It was difficult to move in these flowers, like thick mud. At the front of the buildings he looked around surveying the scene.
He shielded his eyes with his hand. A puzzled look crept onto his face.
"Is that, is that a tree with silver leaves I spy in the distance?" Xos inquired, pointing at a very unusual tree he could see in the distance.
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