To Delve in Dark Places

[Vanidor]

"Friend? Whoever said the Councilor was a friend? He's just a resource I plan on exploiting to get done what needs to get done." And here, Jons steps to the edge, turns to face the other two, and then drops down. Hands catch the ledge where he hangs for a moment, before letting go and landing on the ground just before the steps up into the building itself. A step or two back then, in order to give the others room to drop down themselves.

Once this is done, he'll speak again. This time to Solena. "And no, he shouldn't have a problem with it. I've gone back and forth through this thing a dozen times. There'll be an elf, one of Vanidor's, on the other side to welcome us. But he'll let us go on our way... As long as no one causes any fuss." This, again, will directed to Solena. "And once that's done, it's a quick jaunt to the edge of the province, yadda yadda. And then Underdark."

[Elfling]

"I'm not the one who has the problems," Solee huffed after she dropped from the roof, rising up from her crouch with a slight scowl for the building. "They are."

For humans, elves were elves. For elves, the variances were lines drawn in sand. The distaste went beyond simple 'dark-skin' and 'light-skin' differences. Worse, the fact that Solena was what she was, and chose to dance shadows was almost profane for some. It was.. irritating. It made her defensive. It was far better to immediately dislike most other elves before they had a chance to get high and mighty with her.

"Before we step in, I should ask. You've both brought vision enhancements, yes?" The Underdark was quite a blatant, descriptive name for where they were going. There were some light sources, sometimes. But for the most part, none at all. Asking now would allow her to make sure both humans could see; she'd brought extra just in case.

[Tolleson]

Friend or otherwise, it was no surprise and that was the only reassurance he would need. Following suit he’ll drop down as well and situate himself once he’s landed safely.

Its true, elves were elves to him. Though he did understand there were differences between them, it was no great concern of his to learn them. Or hadn’t been until just now.

“So it isn’t just me, you cause trouble with everyone,” a snarky grin as he pats a vile on his belt to indicate to the elf that he has taken such measures. Herbs wouldn’t give him any long term low-light or even no-light vision, but the concoction would surely do the job. And if not, well he might just have to trust his companion to hold his hand and lead him out; a thought that almost made him laugh.

[Vanidor]

Feul simply stares at the elf for a moment. She should know how well his vision is in the dark, and it was as silly a question to him as his musing on elves was to her. Still, he will eventually nod his head. Next he is moving to snick open the door and pull it outward, motioning with one hand for the other two to step past him.

"Believe me, they won't bother us unless we bother them first. So, no need to throw knives or potions or what have you. Or verbal jabs, for that matter. Trust me, they are... Less judgmental than your other kin." At least to a degree. But there was no further need to elaborate, not that he really could.

At the end of the hall would be a door wreathed with ivy and holly. There was nothing else within the 'shop' other than a table, with a tray containing a pitcher of water and some cups. Jons will step to this, plucking the pitcher up and pouring a cup for each of them. "Drink. It's part of the... Well. The ritual if I remember it correctly. Once you sip, step through the door. We have to go one at a time. I'll go through first and answer whatever questions the elf on the other side has. Then on we go."

Jons will drain his cup, then pause a moment. "Keep the cup, by the way. Give it to the man on the other side of the door." He'll eye Solena again, chuckle a little, and then pull open the door. There is a shimmering portal here, that looked like water held upright in the frame. He'll laugh softly, and then step through the thing.

On the other side, the man would step forward until challenged by the warden. The space is snow dusted, but clear, and set into a ring of trees. When the others come through, he will be busy speaking with the elf, a tall and slender being in grey and green clothing. Their conversation is soft, breath misting before them as they speak.

[Elfling]

Stare for stare. Solena met that steady gaze until he broke and simply opened the door to allow them to pass into the shop. As she followed Tennant in, Solena paused and lifted a gloved hand, touching Jons' jawline with a smirk. "I wouldn't be me if I didn't ask." Paranoid as ever. She also allowed the subject of her kin drop as her hand did.

The sight of the ritual made her scowl, but she tossed a glance over her shoulder. "Glad I told him I wanted an escort," she grumbled. If it had simply been herself and Tennant, this part alone would've presented a problem. She wasn't in the habit of drinking things she didn't know the source of, no matter how much they looked like water. Still, Jons seemed to have no issue with the thing, and it was that reassurance that led her to follow his example. It wasn't until he'd already passed through that the elf paused and looked at the tall, redheaded man. "This is your last chance to back out, Tennant. Are you sure you want to do this?"

Regardless of his answer, she'd be stepping through a moment later, lips pressed in a thin line of displeasure. It was hard to tell if the displeasure was in the portalling, the elven magic, or the elf that Jons was speaking with.

[Tolleson]

Tennant was not the one to worry about when it came to –starting- quarrels. Despite being well equipped to handle them, armed to the teeth even. He was ever on the defense and there was little ego to bruise; what with being a pauper, a dishwasher, a captured thief, and twice now, a traitor.

Similar thoughts concerning the nature of the beverage slipped through his mind, but only briefly and they did not give pause to his actions. Following Jon’s lead he’d nod in understanding, and hold up his glass, a brief toast to them both before downing the drink as Solena again inquired about his certainty.

She didn’t stay and he didn’t answer, following immediately and seemingly without fear. If there was some nagging suspicion, some little voice in his head that said no, it wouldn’t show now. Portals were by no means his preferred method of travel, but as rooftop ballet had already been done there was little room for complaint. They would lead and he would follow.

[Vanidor]

By the time Tennant is through the portal, Jons and the other elf had finished their conversation. Feul would bow slightly, allowing his forehead to lightly touch that of the elf. One more word in passing, in the eldritch tongue these elves held too, and Jons would chuckle before turning to the others to collect their cups. "Phaedral says that the snows have been light the last few days, so we should have little issue making our way to the border. He also says that you are welcome to partake of the bounty of the Enclave, to rest your ills and troubles amidst the peace of the forest."

Jons would lick his lips at that, and pressed on before allowing Solena a chance to be contrary. "In anycase, I told him we had urgent business, and perhaps on our way back one of us would pay our respects." The cups then, these are set on a tray with his own, and one last wave was made towards the elf. That one simply stepped back into the shadows of the trees and seemed to vanish within them. "We should get going then. Unless either of you have any comments?" That wry smile again, peering between the two of them.

[Elfling]

Seeing Tennant come through the portal after her seemed to ease some of her paranoia. Solena actually smiled for a brief moment. Still, her grumblings about others of her kin remained silent even after the named Phaedral disappeared into the trees, though Jons' attempt to get her to comment earned him a flat look. If he expected her to pay respects, he was going to be sorely disappointed. Arkista was the only other elf she tolerated without irritation, and the dusk-skinned female was unique.

"Let's just get this over with," she finally muttered, eyes shifting to where Phaedral had disappeared. Just because she couldn't see him didn't mean they weren't being watched. It made her skin crawl.

[Tolleson]

Surprised again. First, that he was punctual and second that he held to his word. What the rest of the world must think of him, when one of his only friends believed in him so little. Friends that they were, at that.

Still her smile is greeted in kind, the usual amiable grin for her and a near smile of sheer placidity for the rest. He’ll step up, beside Solena, clap his hand gently on her back before moving on. “Onward.”

[Vanidor]

Onward indeed. Jons will make one last waving motion to the elf he knew was hidden among the stand of trees, make one last look over the other two, then turn towards the border with New Dauntless. "Not that I think I have to say it, but keep up. I shan't slow down to make sure you're at my rear. At it, not up it, Solena." There is a jaunty grin for the woman, then a wink at Tennant, before he adjusts the straps at his belt. "If we DO get seperated, make sure the Pit at Golben is to your left and make for the mountains. Our contact will be in a shack just over the border."

And since that was the border with relatively neutral New Dauntless, what's her name and her Kings Own should be far away from it. And just about anyone else for that matter. He knew the militia didn't travel so far away from the edge of the 'wall to check some hinterland nowhere just at random. "So then. If there's no questions..." He'll start off through the undergrowth, heading vaguely northwestish. It was a good hour or so to their destination from here.

[Elfling]

An hour. An hour of following Jons, and hearing Tennant nearby. Of listening to the sounds of snow falling from branches, of scurrying animals, of icicles cracking. Listening to the sound of both of the men breathing as they moved. Of mentally taking note of the changes in her stocky friend. Anyone who knew Solena knew that just because she didn't remark on something didn't mean that she didn't notice. Rumors were a steadfast commodity in Myrken, and there were plenty to go around when it involved Jons Feul.

Still, nothing was said as the trio finally came to a stop. In spite of the pace, the elfling wasn't winded or even showing a hint of weariness. If anything, her stamina had increased thanks to the daily training of Elliot. Teaching a boy to extend his capabilities to their limits also helped her to stay in the shape she needed to be.

[Tolleson]

Being from the coast made the cold weather a nuisance, but not unbearable. From what Solena had seen of him previously, he was either very good at acting or now wore clothes much warmer than they appeared. Tennant would bring up the rear of the party, misty clouds of hot breath rose from him and through the light, drifting snow.

Solena listened and he watched, his eyes darting from the trees and snow, mountains in the distance, to the companions before him. Diligent in these and silent for the hour, he would eventually close the gap.

A whisper for his party as they might near their destination, the brush gently moved aside and out of his path. He was careful in this, his boots hardly left a track, even under all his weight and through the snow; a shame to have it ruined by some conspicuous snow fall or a broken branch.

“Had to have us fetch this thing mid-winter,” gods-be-damned snow, even if he weathered it well, his absolute dislike for it was clear.

[Vanidor]

There is a shack here, just on the otherside of the the scattered edge of the forest. It is a ramshackle thing, made for hunters and rangers as they make their way through the forest. Four walls, a roof, and a door. A curl of smoke drifted from the beaten metal smokestack. Jons frowned slightly, but decided that a moment of warmth may not be ALL that bad, even if the smell and sight of it would give away the fact that someone had been here. No fighting that, though. It WAS a hunters 'lodge' after all. He just hoped there wasn't a hunter here when the channeler had showed up.

Once at the door, Feul would knock softly. Twice, a pause, twice more, then thrice in rapid succession. This prompted the man within the open the door and peer at the trio. "Took you long enough. I was freezing myself to death in this... thing." The man gave off noble airs, though there was a hard, dangerous edge to him. A severe haircut, cropped close to the skin, and a malicious cast to his dark green eyes. A hawk rested against his collar, however, and another was emblazoned upon the scabbard of his sword. Both of these Jons would eye, unamused. "You're not supposed to display it so blatantly, Yeoric."

"Nevermind. This is the point, my friends. We can rest for the night if you wish, or poor Yeoric here can tear apart reality and send us where we need to go." The man, when mentioned, twisted his mouth in distaste, on the verge of saying something to Feul. Evidently he thought better of it, and simply assumed a fighting stance, though hands went nowhere near to his blade. Again, Jons would glance at Solena and Tennant.

[Elfling]

Trust issues. Solena had them in spades, and an imposing, hard nobleman was enough to send her paranoia through the roof. She had Tennant to look after, even though she knew he could take care of himself, and to some extent, Jons. It irritated her that even a minor risk was taken in such a way. Even if hawk pins could be assumed to be subtle. Her irritation manifested in a blank, cold expression. Instead of adopting her own, prepared stance, she was deceptively relaxed with arms loose at her sides.

"No. We go," she spoke to Feul even though her eyes remained on the channeler. There was just enough of a tone for her two companions to pick up on. Solena didn't trust staying overnight with this man watching over them, no matter how loyal to Burel that he claimed to be. Better that they go underground. It would be a shame if she had to get stabbity with their mode of transportation simply because of a need for an attitude adjustment.

[Tolleson]

It was perhaps the nobleness Tennant immediately recognized, that set strange with him; rather than the hard look of the man. Ever so slight a pull of unease in the pit of his stomach was masked as best he could manage with equal upset. Furrowed brow and a frown of distaste backed up Solena’s more subtle disapproval.

Tennant would know this man to be noble, not by recognition of who he was but by the air. The words and inflection, the way he carried himself, even down to the way he smelled; and it reeked of someone who didn’t belong here. And a sigil was no aid to subtlety.

For their line of work, trust issues were a pre-requisite. Pressing forward, Tennant would align himself shoulder to shoulder with Solena. It was a casual, calm sort of movement, no more threatening, and in truth probably quite a bit less so, than assuming a combative stance. But once there, his hand would slide, resting and open atop the bladeless hilt at his side as if it were an idle, unconscious, and most natural position.

“Apologies for keeping you, but we are here now,” a cursory glance given to Jons and Solena, then back again. A nod of agreement at her words, as he had no more intention of staying than she.

After all, with so much tension and the cold it wasn’t likely that a one of them would find any rest. Unless it was the final sort.“If you would be so kind,” his tone was cordial enough, but there was some tinge of defensive edge. Please, let's continue.