Quest for the Lyre of Orphaeo

[Philomel]

Clsoed to Breaker. Originally from this thread on 3.1.

Tell me a tale now, oh best beloved, of knights on horseback and gallant battle. Of heroes who fought and villains that fell, of brave souls who claimed victory and those who died saving the many. Sing me a song of their courageous deeds, sing me a ballad of their romance and triumphs. I want to hear of their deaths and their children, of their legacy and their arts. Oh, tell me now, best beloved, of those heroes who lived before …

“Are you absolutely certain?” she asked.

“Yes,” the blonde-haired woman nodded, “this is the only manuscript that satisfies every criteria. It’s got to be the real one.”

“It mentions his wife?”

“Yes, and the daughter as well. As well as the fact he apparently had a dog.”

The questioner’s eyebrows rose. “A dog? What kind?”

The answerer frowned, “Unfortunately, that is not clear. It just says ‘canis’ so we cannot define anything more than other he had a dog.”

The hand that was resting on the open page of the huge old book slid down a little. Eyes followed it, moving from the blonde-haired lady to the words. They stopped when they came across the letters that spelled out ‘C-A-N-I-S’ and her mouth made a small round shape.

“Oh. Well.” Slowly she blinked, her mind now going wild with the idea that there was a dog involved, a breed of animal from the same genus as her own dear companion. “Hmmm,” she mused.

There was a pause as the sounds filled the low-ceilinged room, echoing off the exposed grey stone and the many lines of creaky bookshelves. No natural light shone down here, in the cellars beneath the main archives, so all they had were oil lamps that flickered idly, casting dancing shadows of mysterious quality onto every surface.

After a while, the questioner nodded, and she stood onto her hooves, pushing the chair back.

“So this is the best most conclusive directions we have to the lyre’s whereabouts. The edge of the Red Forest you said?”

She, Philomel van der Aart, stood tall and proud, with two blades visible beneath a long emerald cloak. Her hand that had been trailing the words of the manuscript now rested on the hilt of a long thick-bladed sword, and her hair that was the colour of ripe plums hung around her face like a gilt-embossed frame. Eagerly, she waited for the reply, her heart hammering as she realised that finally she was going to get an affirming answer. Finally she was going to know.

“Indeed, east of the red forest, towards the hills locally known as the Highfells. I can write you down more explicit instructions if you like?”

Inclining her head, the faun thanked her and told her that she would like that very much. The archivist smiled, and took up an eagle-feather quill and black ink to scribble down a rough translation of the old Raiaeran dialect that gave the directions to this most elusive of tombs. A place that had taken Philomel so long to properly find.

“Here,” she finished off the script with a flurry, and held it out. “I hope you find it.”

Philomel smiled. “Indeed I do also,” she said. “And I hope I find it soon.” A grim look came to her face. “Its taken me so long to do this, that I hope I am not late. So long to do her will when she said it was so urgent …”

Miss Melena, the archivist, waved a hand. “It is well and fine. If Drys asked you personally to get the lyre of Orphaeo, then get the lyre you will. I am sure she will distract the others from seizing it beforehand.”

The faun lifted up her gaze to look directly into the eyes of the other woman. Pausing for a moment, the two worshippers who were beloved of the ancient tree goddess acknowledged each other in the significance of all of this - this holy mission - before finishing off their greeting.

“May the goddess flourish,” Philomel whispered.

Miss Melena smiled. And repeated the same.

“May the goddess flourish.”

[Breaker]

“Do you wish to live forever?” The Goddess asked, scraping all eight amber-enamelled fingernails down the warrior’s scarred chest.

Breaker arched against the soft bed of earth he lay upon, lifting the Goddess’ light and supple form as he drew breath through pursed lips. He sat up as he exhaled, breath tickling the nape of the petite brunette woman’s neck.

“Only if living forever means never leaving my Suravani’s inside.” Joshua Cronen wrapped his arms around the Goddess straddling his lap and lifted her effortlessly.

Suravani shrieked with pleasure and wrapped her legs around his hips, ankles locked and urging him deeper.

He pushed her against the soft sand wall and held her there as she kissed him and took away all concept of time. The room was one of her creation, specially designed for the two of them, and he could not say how long they had spent there. A day or more certainly… long enough for the mystique surrounding the deity to melt in the fire between them. She had told him things while she lay in his arms, how long it had been since she took human form, how long since she felt a lover’s touch, how long since she’d found a man worthy of tasting her sweat… It had been longer than the lives of many mortals. But Breaker was not mortal; not anymore… not quite. The power that flowed in his veins was partially granted by his Goddesses, but significantly due to his own dedication to mastery of the body and mind. When he touched Suravani and his energy flowed into her over the hours, the days… even a deity could not withstand such passion. They were immortals and nearly indestructible, ancient and experienced beyond belief. But their advantages made them overlook the one thing that would always bring them back to the mortal realm… their emotions.



Finally they nestled like spoons in a cupboard, satisfied if not spent, whispering and laughing softly. The petite slender form Suravani had chosen fit perfectly in Breaker’s ropelike arms. Her hair smelled perfect… the Gods had a fetish for perfection.

“So what will it take to bring my Goddess to such pleasure,” Josh asked, raking rough fingers up the inner muscles of her thigh to bring one last surprised gasp to Suravani’s lips. “Such pleasure that she’d choose a mere soldier to share her spot in eternity?”

Suravani’s laugh sounded mysterious as the winds through the dunes in her creation, her home continent of Fallien.

“A soldier?” She giggled like a young girl, still lost in the carnal experience, “how long has it been since you called yourself that Breaker?” She wiggled in his arms and rolled over to straddle his hips and press the soft skin of her forehead against his close cropped hairline and gaze into his endless hazel eyes. “You are a general, a champion, a great teacher and leader… you could be my champion. My partner in all this.” She swirled a dainty hand carelessly and the sandy walls vanished, leaving them floating on an earthen bed high above where the hawks or even the legendary griffins of Fallien could soar. The vast dunes and ocean ring surrounding the lonely continent looked like a well drawn map from so high in the sky

“So what would you have of me?” He asked, “what more?” He corrected the question, slapping the supple skin of her hindquarters to illicit another giggle and gathering her back into his arms. The skin over his abdominals stretched as he sat up and held the Goddess in his lap as they looked down her domain together.

“There have been.. sounds of shifts and schisms approaching amongst the Gods,” Suravani confided in him, “I am seeking new alliances and a distant sister of mine is gathering her power. If you can assist her… our influence would be all the greater when you take your place at my side.” She sighed and sands rose from the floor to spell a name out in the air.

Drys.

“Your sister?” Josh asked, kissing the nape of Suravani’s pale neck.

“Mmmmhmm,” she replied, “You must ensure the lyre bearer lives and assist her in any way necessary. Drys has arranged her own guard but I fear the powers that oppose her have a deadly card or three concealed in their sleeves.”

Breaker laughed, the sound whipping out into empty air. The Gods and their games.

“Do you know what these cards may be?” He asked, slow-stepping callused fingers along her hips.

“I may,” Suravani giggled, shivering deeper into his arms, “but I do not wish to make your test too easy… my champion.”

Before her words could lose themselves in the night air she vanished, and then the sandy bed swallowed Breaker into a tunnel of neverending darkness.

"Find the spot on the Red Forest’s fringe where the Fealotë bare their souls to the sky," Suravani’s voice echoed in his mind and all around him.

[Philomel]

“May the goddess flourish …”

She set out, following the eastward stars. By the light of the moon a path was laid out for her, for it lit up the white-stone path like an eager beacon. Galloping on the back of her mighty beast - the leviathan of all travellers, the yak-like tera’k - Philomel girded her loins and prepared for a long night of steady journeying.

“Go meet the archivist Melena,” the voice in her dreams had said, “go speak to her and seek the lyre of Orphaeo. It must be found before our enemies find it first, thou must bring it to me in the forest before dark claws snake their way around its power.”

Miss Melena had been a good woman, a worthy rare human worshipper, a child of woodsmen who had somehow come to worship the tree-mother. Once the connection had been made between her and Philomel there had been little to stop them becoming best friends for life and automatically trusting each other with their lives. With the directions folded delicately and pushed into the folds of her belt, Philomel used nowt but her wits to keep her going for now.

Raiaera. They needed to get to Raiaera. First they would get to the harbour, and after the Fiesty Fox had set sail with its captain on board and a limited crew, they would come to the shore of the high elven homeland, ready there to gain what had to be gained before other dark masters came to steal it. The tera’k was fast and beautiful - he would carry Philomel successfully towards where she needed to go. Him, and only him alone, would carry her there.

For though there were other lovers of Drys, such as her brother and her mother, Philomel knew that this task was made for her and her alone. It had been clear from the time of the dream. The dream where the wild-winged and toe-rooted goddess had spoken the words that had caused this change in destiny.

Thump, thump, thump. His hooves made grooves and heavy holes in the path as it changed from stone to dirt. Soon enough there would be mud, for it rained often in the hills here, west of Concordia forest. It being night, there were very few others on the road, allowing the way to be clear. It avoided those who might berate the huge beast on the road, it left behind all those who might curse her as she tipped their cabbage carts.

“My cabbages!” they would cry, and cause horror. Philomel in any case would leave them in the dust, but at least night left all chance of it behind. Back in the realm of unreality.

____

The anchor laid with a splash into the Raiaeran harbour. From the ship strode the proud faun, with the fox quick at her hooves. Upon the ship, deep in its bowels, her tera'k beast lowed, eager to be away from the water.

Her heart hammered as she left her crew and army behind, striding by herself and her fellow earth-kin towards the land that would lead them to the pinnacle of their mission. Raising her chin to show her pride in this placement of her, going in the spirit of her goddess, for a mission of her goddess, she faced east and set off to meet the fated Breaker.

[Breaker]

Darkness consumed Breaker's world, and he knew nothing but the gritty taste of sand beneath his tongue. He rolled over and spat and found himself prone on a woodland floor unlike any forest he had seen before.

The loam and roots writhed with maggots and worms, as if the ground were covered in rotting flesh rather than leaves. The trees had a positively unhealthy pallor, some twisted crimson, others bloated purple, but all with the blood-colored leaves that gave Lindequalmë its name. Strange cries and hoots, some hauntingly human, emanated from the shadowy depths. The sun permeated the leaves with a reddish glow in some places, while others remained in perpetual shadow.

Breaker rose slowly onto all fours and then stood, listening to the Red Forest breathe all around him. To his right, a waxy orange flower lulled insects to a poisonous demise. To his left atop a burst purple tree, a thorny vine snatched up a squirrel-like creature and sapped its blood. Thirty paces ahead, a large tree swayed against the wind. It was a young rowan, the type that would make a fine foremast for a mid-sized ship. If it were actually a tree. Josh unsheathed the black diamond dagger from his boot and threw it with an upward flicking motion.

Thwesh! The sound of blade striking bark was decidedly un-treelike, and the illusion of the rowan dissolved into a small pack of wolves. The dead one with the knife buried between its eyes must have been the alpha, for two of the remaining wolves bolted for the underbrush with forlorn howls and tails between their legs. The other two growled and advanced, separating instinctively before stalking and pouncing at Breaker simultaneously.

The demigod rolled beneath their fangs and kicked both Dur'Taigen in the skull without apparent effort. The shape-shifting wolves crashed to the ground, soundly unconscious.

Breaker had gone easy on them; his boots were made of a black metal harder than mythril and bore lethal enchantments. Josh recovered his blade and left the beasts where they lay and wandered through the forest, avoiding contact with plant and animal life as much as possible. Even so reddish moss rubbed off like chalk against the black clothing Suravani had been gracious enough to return to him. Before long Breaker found a pleasant clearing near the forest's eastern fringe, where actual sunlight filtered in. He stopped on the edge of the meadow, realizing not even the bugs ventured there.

Amongst the loam and long grass blossomed a patch of lush blue and purple flowers. Long, full petals surrounded a central fruit that varied in size from that of a plum pit to a small peach. And hidden within the folds of those leaves the venomous thorns lay waiting. For the Fealotë would always be hungry, and as their name suggested, the beautiful flowers did not sup on flesh. Soul Blossoms were amongst the most feared of all the Red Forest's dangers, for they could trap a being's soul for eternity.

Breaker hesitated only a moment, and then strode into the clearing. He sat down amongst the flowers and let his callused hands fall to the ground where thorns pricked his fingertips. He felt the poison seep slowly into his veins and let the plants pull at the fabric of his being. And then he summoned a single powerful thought.

No.

The plants did not understand resistance at first. Their venom had entered a body with a spirit; soon it would be drawn inside and devoured over six long days. As the spirit failed to arrive, the plants channeled more venom into the being's veins, emptying their reservoirs. And then they began to change.

Back, cursed creatures! Go back to what you were, what you ought to be! A dim white glow emanated from the pricks in Joshua's fingertips. It grew like the sun peaking over the horizon at dawn, glowed brighter until it consumed Breaker and the plants and the clearing, and then it vanished. The thorns retreated into the leaves as a few drops of Breaker's blood baptized them anew.

Josh sat in the clearing and meditated on lives long past, and on the life he had yet to live among the gods of Althanas. He had touched the Red Forest and let it flow through his veins, and he had healed this one small clearing. Never again would this patch of Fealotë steal the souls of the unwary... instead they would lift the spirits of any who came close enough.

"Here," Breaker declared, "is where the Fealotë bare their souls to the sky." He looked up through the hole in the crimson canopy and realized that the reddish glow was not only from the trees. Night would soon fall over Lindequalme. He decided to stay until the stars forgot their shyness... to see his Suravani.

[Philomel]

Coming back here was like reliving a dream.

Once upon a time - once upon twice, Philomel had strode through these red, red woods, her hooves leaving imprints on the cursed soil. Once had been to restore the earth spirits deserved name in the history books, the other had been to aid the quest to rid this place of the Forgotten One Podë. Now, they said, it had been completed, that her essence had gone from these parts, yet the faun-lady of many trades could not believe that. The trees were still hungry, the bark still as rust-hued as dried blood, the atmosphere still as uncertain.

It was reliving a dream - rather, a nightmare - you had never wished you had had, but being forced to face it finally. Though the rumours spoke of new life and peace, the reality was something other. What had persisted for centuries could not be undone in a single moment of slaying. Pode's curse lived on in the roots, the beasts and the leaves here, only fading with the ability of time.

"Holy mother, protect me," Philomel whispered as she led her beast of burden deeper into the wood. Behind her, finally having joined her after the beginning of all this quest, strode her ever-loyal companion of heart and mind, Veridian. He padded on silent white paws, brush tail whipping back and forth against the foliage.

Drys does protect us, the fox-formed spirit said in reply. She always will.

Philomel titled her head back to gaze at the golden eyes. "I wish you had started back with me in Corone, my darling," she murmured, "but at least you are here now, and that is some comfort."

Veridian looked back at her solidly for a moment, before looking down to skip over a speckled grey rock. I am here now, let that be your comfort.

Rolling her eyes a little, at least in that moment comforted by his familiar stormy attitude, Philomel looked back to concentrate ahead. Her tera'k tossed his head as, distracted, she almost walked him into a tree.

"Oh shit," she said loudly, "sorry dear."

Still the tera'k roared in angst and irritation, nudging her side with his buffalo-like horn. Philomel laughed softly, knowing full well her guilt, yet amused by the entire situation. It had brought her out of her unease completely, and now she found the energy and want to full on cuddle the beast, the one who had carried her so far.

We should find somewhere to camp, Veridian said suddenly. The announcement caused Philomel to look up. True enough, the stars were beginning to shine out, the dusky sky settling to nothing. The sun had already gone, and it was only the faun's external, supernatural senses that had thus far kept her going. These days, because of her affinity with the earth and the ability to see through it, she barely noticed the light difference.

"Ah yes, of course," she nodded. "We should go. I think I detect a clearing somewhere."

She threw her attention into the earth, and over in the distance a good hundred metres away. True enough there was a clearing, a space in the woods, and a strange feeling - as if ... well. As if there at least the Forgotten's Ones old power had actually begun to make a disappearance.

Philomel started to head there, a sense of familiarity and purpose coming over her. She could swear as she and Veridian and her dear beast of burden set that way to settle for the night, that she could hear words on the wind. And they were in the voice of her great goddess Drys.

"Trust the Breaker," they said, "trust the one whom you are about to meet."

[Breaker]

Breaker moved from one deep stretch to another as the sun set and the stars peeked through growing darkness. His body remained loose and limber and his mind at ease. His charmed Fealotë patch kept his heart warmer than the heat of a good fire, even though his skin felt the night's chill.

Creatures coughed and roared from the fronds of nearby vegetation but none dared approach. A spiny vine descended from a nearby canopy of razor leaves and swayed - despite the lack of wind - towards him.

Without abandoning his seated saddle stretch Josh froze it with flicker of magic, leaving a long arcing icicle decorating the clearing. He sat up and looked to the sky.

She appeared in a pale blush as the sky turned from azure to black. Suravani shone down on Raiaeara just as strongly as she did in Fallien.

You do well, lover. She said in a code of dancing moonbeams.

"You do good, goddess." Breaker murmured. "I have found the place you spoke of."

So they've bared their souls? The moon laughed in her light.

"They bared all for the Breaker," Josh chuckled in response. He could feel the moon's radiance caress the Y-shaped scars on his cheeks, "as you did, so you knew they would."

I suspected, Suravani said, but do not make light of my tests, champion. Now hist... clouds swept over the moon suddenly, but Breaker saw one word before her light vanished completely.

Drys.

Knowing the Raiearan goddess' agent must be near, Breaker stood and became one with the forest. As a master of the Dajas Pagoda he'd invited contestants to challenge him on a jungle-covered island, and he'd moved this way then. In Corone's civil war he'd flitted through Concordia like a shadow in search of the Empire's assassins. And in Dheathain's deep, dark forest he'd battled a small army of Drakari and emerged unscathed. Breaker had a way with the woods which not even Lindequalmë could disrupt. Without so much as stepping on a dead leaf he sneaked through the foliage in a quick-march grid search. Eventually the sounds of a large beast of burden reached his ears.

Josh paused. The animal did not sound native to this place... nor did it sound alone. He crept nearer and heard a female voice, and then abandoned all stealth and stepped out from cover in front of the faun and her companions.

“Hello, daughter of Drys.” He said in a warm, even tone. “My name is Joshua Cronen... but you may call me Breaker.”

[Philomel]

Philomel's rose lips parted. She stared at the man before her, with deep hazel eyes, dressed in the usual garnments of a travelling man, bold and able to defend himself until the last breath left his mouth. A gentle wind picked up around the space between them, fluttering through the foliage and darting towards her, so the stray violet hairs at the front of her temples waved lazily. Still, however, she stared at the man, eyes narrowing slightly as she began to assess him.

Muscles. A strong jaw. Scars - the usual signs of an adventurist and warrior - peeked at the edges of his shirt and on his cheeks. There was a single dagger hilt poking out of his belt, but it was possible others were hidden. He looked with a slight smile, and it uneased Philomel slightly, for it was clear by the look of this individual that he could likely put up a good strong fight. The smile could be something malicious, hidden and deceptive, reeling her into a false sense of security before destroying all she held dear.

Yet. Yet - he hailed himself as, "Breaker." As the one name Drys' voice had just given her on the wind, and indeed he had just spoken the name of her beloved goddess. The great tree mother had told Philomel to trust this man. This was someone the faun-whore ought to respect.

Beside her Veridian crept forwards, his golden eyes glinting as he came from the shadows to fix Breaker with the same look. He took one glance at that handsome face, then sat back and gave his decision with a nod.

He is the one, he said.

Philomel took a quick breath in and stepped fowards, away from the tera'k who was now nosing some leaves, and from her precious companion. Beneath the soil she felt the presence of Delath the great earth beast snaking his way towards them. But she told him to bide his time for now, knowing he was likely not to be needed. SHe thrust a hand forwards, her expression remaining the same determined one, other palm resting on the hilt of one of her many daggers. Daggers, sword over her shoulder, Lover at her back, the crop Temptress at her other hip ...

"Call me Philomel," she told him. "Its what most call me. The Great Tree Mother told us to meet you here." She took a pause, then asked the question that had been loitering in her mind, the one she had somehow figured out. "You know of Drys?"

The man's smile seemed to grow, but it might have been a trick of the light playing on his facial scars.

"I know of Survani," he said in the same warm voice.

Philomel took a moment to think, then nodded. Survani was a desert goddess, a minor one also by all accounts, but on equal standing to Drys. Legend said she was also a creator of beings, and had a holy place somewhere in Fallien. Sand was her soil, oases were her clearings.

He shook her hand, solidly and briefly.

"This is Veridian, my companion," she gestured to the fox-form earth spirit beside her, "he is an earth spirit, a true child of my goddess. The lumbering thing there is my tera'k and beneath us rolls Delath."

[Breaker]

"I am honored to meet you all," Josh said, bowing to the faun and her companions. His eyes twinkled in the moonlight. "I know of Drys. Suravani told me a tale from Althanas' earliest years, when the Gods were still fickle and young." He chuckled at the idea that the gods were no longer fickle, and beckoned for Philomel to follow as he returned to the Fealotë patch. "When Suravani brushed her hair with a sandstone comb by the light of the moon, Creator called her the most beautiful of his children." Josh turned and held his palms at chest height, facing one another.

Water sprang forth from the very air they breathed and took the shape of a beautiful woman, no larger than the hands that formed her. The moonlight made the liquid figure sparkle like diamonds.

"Am'aleh the ocean deity rose up in jealousy and cut several locks from the desert goddess' head with a salted knife of ice."

The woman of water vanished, leaving only her hair which floated and shimmered in the moonlight like a friendly ghost.

"The two nearly came to blows in a battle which might have ended the world, but then Drys came between them. She spoke of their sisterhood, of the many trials they would face in eons to come. In the end all three parted as allies, and Suravani gave Drys the severed locks in thanks."

Josh spread his hands and the ghost of Suravani's hair floated to the ground like a leaf on the breeze, settling amidst the roots of the soul blossoms and soaking into the soil.

"Drys planted her sister's hair, and from there grew the roots of the first trees. And life on Althanas continued as it has and will." Cronen's smile grew until it stretched the corners of his mouth and showed his pearly teeth, "or so the fable says."

Breaker knelt and plucked a soul blossom from the patch he had drained of wickedness. Its rich blue leaves and elegant purple stigma shone in Suravani's silver light, as if celebrating their separation from the rest of the forest. He offered the flower to Philomel with eyebrows raised, wondering if she would trust him enough to take it.

"The poison has departed from these, daughter of Drys," he said, "tell me what you know of Suravani. The night will be long, and we'd be wisest not to travel forth until morning."

[Philomel]

Philomel turned from the vision of glorious beauty and her eyes flickered up to meet those of the ageless human. Pausing for a moment her lips made an oval before they settled into a soft smile.

He had immediately gotten onto the good side of the faun-whore. Complimenting her goddess was akin to bedding the fiery matriach without so much as an introduction.

"What I know of Suravani," she said softly, "is little. I know only what Drys has told me."

She lifted up a hand and swept away a stray loop of hair behind her ear. "I know she is a goddess of the desert realm Fallien, a place I and my ladies, my Lilies, have never set foot upon. She is a moon goddess, the main one of the people of the desert land and ... what, she has a being incarnate."

For a moment she considered, then laughed gorgeously to the man before her.

"I like the style of your goddess, the sister of mine. Her world is that of strong female leaders, and bold and wise words, much of that of Drys. Drys has told me of times when she and Suravani, in the young days of the earth, ran and played in the snows of the north and the sands of the south."

Taking a moment from the conversation she turned, and reached up to pull a rolled pack from the back of her softly grazing tera'k.

"I agree we should wait until morning. A good prayer or two would not help. And Veridian could do with some rest," she nodded to the fox-form creature, who had been sitting there the whole conversation, swishing his long tail and waiting for a chance to be noticed. When he was mentioned he aimed a swide, sharp-toothed grin at the two-legged (in comparison to two-hooved).

He looked up to Philomel.

Tell him I like his words and his jacket, he told her, and that any friend of Drys' is a friend of mine.

Philomel rolled her eyes a little and muttered quickly to him, "you embarress me."

Veridian chattered a foxy laughter.

She sighed and looked back to Breaker. "He likes you."

[Breaker]

Breaker extended a callused hand for the fox to sniff, but made no attempt to pet the familiar. He found that such creatures often retained a measure of wildness, especially towards people they were not bonded to. He did pat the ter'ak on its broad back, admiring the beast's build.

"I've never seen one of these before," he commented, a mote of surprise in his voice.

The company of Philomel and her companions felt like it brought the attention of Drys. The dangers of the forest faded to the back of Breaker's mind and at last he let his guard down, if only for a few hours. Memories of everything Suravani had said sifted through his mind. He sat in the soul blossom patch near where Philomel prepared her bedroll. The trees listened closely. The moon watched with deep interest.

"You must tell me of our mission, lyre bearer." Josh suggested. "Suravani told me only of you, and asked that I assist you as necessary. I know not of the perils we may face, past my knowledge of the Lindequalmë. If we mean to venture deeper into the forest, I may suggest- what is that?" He shook his right arm out violently and stared. The reddish moss that rubbed off on his jacket earlier had burned through the sleeve and scorched his forearm. Cronen tore the garment off, pulled the black diamond dagger from his boot and sheered the sleeve off. He tossed it in one direction and the jacket in the other and sheathed his weapon.

"Of course," he said as a faint blush crept into his cheeks, "fire moss. I was about to suggest armor. I could make you a cloak as strong as steel but as light as silk," while he spoke Josh crafted a poultice of ice around the wound on his arm, cooling the burned patch of skin. "Something to protect you from dangers such as these," he gestured at the still smouldering sleeve and shook his head at his own foolishness. He would need to be more careful going forward, to keep the lyre bearer safe.

Despite the nighttime chill Josh felt warm in his lightweight sifan pants and short-sleeved laceup shirt. He placed his palms on the ground and breathed deeply, aware of his surroundings yet somehow also oblivious. He trusted Drys to protect them, at least on this first night. He needed a chance to know the goddess' agent better, and to learn what she knew of their quest.