To Treat with an Elf

Postby Glenn » Tue Nov 27, 2007 3:53 pm

Glenn would try the mead. "Thank you." He would be very, very conservative about it, however. Proxy or no, he really wasn't there for their amusement, even if he did somewhat feel that such a possibility WAS more possible than he might like. It was just a sip at first. And... then after tasting it, a bit more than that. When WAS the last time he had any mead?

Focus, Glenn. Well, he would probably get in less trouble for veering off in directions he was not asked to than for that little talk with a low-level channeler that he had failed to mention to Cinnabar. "Straka?" Well hopefully Vanidor didn't know that Glenn had stolen an old uniform for the party a few weeks back. "I am sorry to say I was unaware. I wonder then, what do you think of our current problems with the Ashfiend? Have you reviewed the information on him presented to the Council?" Any ideas were useful at this point. Any aid was appreciated, even if the pill WAS difficult to swallow (which is why Glenn was doing it as opposed to anyone else).
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Postby Vanidor » Tue Nov 27, 2007 4:02 pm

"Straka, yes. I was there when they first signed the charter with the Judiciary Council. And again, when a friend asked if I would lend my aid in keeping them in line for a short while. I resigned from that post after a year, and returned to my dwellings here." A slight roll of his shoulders at this, then a slight slap at the nose of the creature in his lap. The thing was aiming to snag another piece of meat from the elf lord's plate. It warbled at him, then settled down in an almost contented fashion.

"Have I looked over the information directed my way concerning this Teron Ashfiend? Yes." That was a bit of wording, right? "A terrible thing, to upset the natural balance of the world in this manner. Of course, you know, you have our support in bringing the Ashfiend down. That is what you came here to ascertain, correct?"

One should always be drunk. That's all that matters... But with what? With wine, with poetry, or with virtue, as you chose. But get drunk. - Charles Baudelaire


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Postby Glenn » Tue Nov 27, 2007 4:24 pm

Glenn Burnie had been drinking very well as of late. That was the reason for not having much mead these days. Derry Red. Calomel's brandy. No, he was drinking well. It had been a while since he had an excellent meal, however, and there was a certain eagerness to the bites he could get in while Vanidor spoke.

Finally, though... ah, getting to the crux of the matter. "Yes and no, Councilor. It is nothing so cut and dry, you see. We find the lack of contact between our office and your people, and you, of course, to be unfortunate. The Governor has no wish to be a tyrant, naturally. He is, however, a man of action, and there is so much to be done." In fact, he would rather not speak too, too much for Cinnabar today. If Vanidor saw him as something other than the direct voice of the governor, all the better. "On a more personal level, as a relative newcomer to Myrken..." and here a slight pause, one with some interest as he tried sounding out something he had heard. "Merisarda, did you say? Regardless, I am a relative newcomer and I am very interested in learning as much as I can about my new home. The records we have are ... sparse, to say the least."

Still, the Ashfiend WAS an issue, and it was a good thing that Vanidor seemed to see the Fiend's actions as a blight, hopefully at least as much as the wall. "As for Teron, aid would certainly be appreciated. However, and again, this is a personal request, I would be curious to hear your opinion on the creature and any potential solutions you may be able to come up with." Often times, it was helpful to have the viewpoint of someone who was... what? Aloof and arrogant and outside the current situation almost completely. Hell, elves were supposed to be wise and knowledgeable. It's not like this could hurt. He even had some hopes that real good could come of it.
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Postby Vanidor » Tue Nov 27, 2007 5:07 pm

"Merisdardia. It means 'the forest that is shrowded in shadow'. The humans that came here after us took Myrken Wood from that. It means the same, all around, yes?" There was a pause from the elf as he took a small bite of meat from the plate before him. Then, eyes darted back towards Glenn. "During the usual course of events, Sir Burnie, there is no need for close contact. As long as the crops end up coming in, and the granaries are built and eventually filled... Ah, but that is neither here nor there, yes?"

"Necromancy is not something we have delved into in centuries. There is no need to find a way to lengthen a life that already extends into tomorrow, beyond tomorrow. As it is, none of our magics are truly arcane in that regard. The mystical energies of nature, the flow of the elements. That is what we master, those who are trained and skilled in the way of the mystics. Sadly, I am not one of them." The slender drow besides him suddenly turned her head towards Vanidor, her lips compressed slightly.

"Let them into the archives." It was the first thing she had said since they had all been there, her eyes were a brilliant colour of violet and her hair like spun silver braided in an intricate manner. "That is what they seek. Not your arm, Vanidor." The elf pursed his lips slightly, putting a glance sideways at the smaller woman.

"Of course, cheiran. Of course. As she has suggested, the archives are open for your inspection. Twenty-five centuries of my time here, read whatever you wish, just let us know if you wish to remove anything from the Enclave. Also, there are records we have collected on a number of subjects from the surrounding regions, even from across the seas. Fact so long in history that is had gone from legend to myth, surely resides within the archives." The elf pursed his lips once again and then lifted his cup to his lips and took a small swallow.

"As for my opinions upon the Ashfiend? It is simple enough to say that such an abberation needs to be removed from the world. And if it was allowed, I would step out of this Enclave with a fist of warriors and hunt it until extinction. I have heard of the destruction wreaked upon it when it attacked the Kaczmarek family. Perhaps you should seek out those who were so instrumental in such damages? Perhaps you already are, I do not know all of your... machinations." And here, the elf rocked his shoulders once again, reached forward and plopped another piece of meat into his mouth.

One should always be drunk. That's all that matters... But with what? With wine, with poetry, or with virtue, as you chose. But get drunk. - Charles Baudelaire


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Postby Glenn » Wed Nov 28, 2007 12:26 am

Eyes may have darted to Glenn. They may have been looking at him, judging. He did not care. Instead there was a slight raise of his mug, even if only for his own sake. Here, then, to the MyrkenTown Council, that noble institution. May they do the bare minimum and watch people live in misery and die in pain. If Calomel was truly only a first amongst equals... that is, if he was truly no more than any of them, no more in his desire to protect Myrken, no more in his desire to act, then they were doomed. Glenn took a long drink from the mug.

He may have been able to hide those thoughts from his face, but talk of the archives would cause a slip. That was exactly what he wanted, more so, perhaps, than the defeat of the Ashfiend. "It has been hard to find a suitable collection here, Councilor. Such an offer is a near cause for celebration. Though, I do wonder... will I have a difficulty in understanding the texts?" In other words, does Glenn need to go take the better part of a year to learn Elvish first.

Ah, now this was interesting. With just the slightest effort, Glenn tempered his features to allow his natural curiosity to become visible. "Enlighten me, Councilor. What is it that holds your hand? No, your arm may not have been my primary goal in coming here (that would have been your wisdom, of course), but then I did not know you once headed Straka. It would almost certainly be welcome; for you to take a ... fist and hunt the Fiend. That would be welcome. We certainly do not hold you back. People are dying. The laws of nature are twisted." And then the mapmaker put the mug down and raised up both hands before him. "If you and yours do truly desire to join in the effort, to protect Myrken Wood, I would, without hesitation, inform you of ALL we have learned of the Fiend, including what we plan." How could he do any less than that, especially after speaking such weighted words, especially after the offer of their archives? What WAS staying your hand, Vanidor Goldenhair?
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Postby Vanidor » Wed Nov 28, 2007 1:34 am

"The simple fact that a... fist of soldiers is almost more than we can spare." There was a... mournful pallor to the ancient elf's face. Twenty five hundred years, is that not what he'd just hinted at? "What you see here, Sir Burnie, Madame Olwak, is the last bastion of my people. Oh, there are other elves, to be sure. But of those of my line, a bare handful remain. Within this Enclave, and that warded by Darien, as well as one set within the forests of New Dauntless, we number no more than seventy, where once there were hundreds." The drowess besides him... put a hand upon Vanidor's own. Slender fingers that almost seemed to curl 'round that of the golden tressed elf.

"A selfish reason, perhaps. But over ten millennia of being upon this Plane, our numbers have dwindled to this small token. Surely, I would face the loss of tomorrow for Myrken, for it has been my charge these last two and a half millennium. But from the eyes of those here who... have not been so entrusted with this Guardianship, it is your people who are dying. Not theirs." Read that carefully, for now there were others looking in the direction of the head table.

The plated elf who had been speaking with the ebon-skinned drow. The server with his pleated hair of white. The dozen other fair skinned and eternally youthful elves who were currently within the walls of the Coron Hall. If what Vanidor had just said was true, this was perhaps the largest collection of his people that remained, not just in the 'wood, but in the world.

One should always be drunk. That's all that matters... But with what? With wine, with poetry, or with virtue, as you chose. But get drunk. - Charles Baudelaire


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Postby Glenn » Wed Nov 28, 2007 2:17 am

Glenn listens stoically enough. He is not unaware of the others watching now. This had gone from an informal gathering to something quite morbid. Perhaps it had been bad form on the young man's part to rush to this so quickly. It had not been intent, however. Things had just built on their own.

Finally, after some pause where he tries to gather his words, Glenn speaks. "This is... exactly why I wish there was more communication. We should have known this." And the words are... naive. That is the only term for them. It is fitting that he seems so very young right now, even for a mortal, even for one who seems his age. There is a personal realization of this, but by now it is too late. "Knowing would not have changed anything, of course, but I would have prefered it." He stared down at the mug for a moment before drinking the last bit of liquid residing within. "I apologize for such... sentiment."

There was a certain way that he should move forward, something by the books, as it were. Of course, Glenn had never read those specific books. Someone really should offer them to him. Still, it was obvious enough. Each word was very carefully chosen. "And I do feel sorrow for... your loss, as I am sure you feel sorrow for ours. I know you have seen a great many threats come and go here in Myrken. I can only wonder if some of them have contributed to your people's dwindling numbers. I know it is... presumptious for me to say that Teron is different, that he is more of a threat. So again, I apologize, for I am about to do just that.

"I was there at Snowstill. I witnessed his undead horde ready to storm through the land. I witnessed soldiers die only to be raised the very moment after their passing. I was there at Foggy Bottom. I witnessed the madness, the fire, the destruction, the death." And here he was getting to the point. "The Ashfiend has achieved his goal. Vraal is vanquished, but still, his hatred lives on, and it will continue to burn by consuming all around him. We fight him now. If we fail... if we fall, then your people will be forced to battle our unliving corpses. If we fail, the Wood will burn. For centuries, he ruled over a desolate, charred land, one of his own making. He would do it again. The Ashfiend will NOT stop, unless we stop him." He had NOT come here seeking this sort of aid. He does not actively ask for it now. What he does instead, is lay down a certain truth, or at the least a belief. With each man Teron killed, he would gain strength. They could move elsewhere, and within Glenn Burnie's life time, they may be safe. With Vraal gone, if they let him continue to grow in power, soon nothing would stop him and he would swarm over all boundaries. They would be safe within Glenn Burnie's lifetime. They would not be safe within their own.
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Postby Jirai » Wed Nov 28, 2007 3:23 am

The girl had been quiet in her seat beside the mapmaker. There was good food and drink to be had, though she ate but little. The veil had been designed to make such things as eating and drinking possible without removing the thing, but the latter was much easier than the former. The strange Tressym-creatures captivated her attention for a time as well - until talk grew more serious, of course. Now she simply watched mapmaker and elf in silence, not even glancing at the others who focused on their discussion.
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Postby Vanidor » Wed Nov 28, 2007 10:49 am

"Ivo, Coron. Wanath deria itha valana." This from the elf clad in his armour of blue interlocking plate. As he said this, his fist thumped against the chest hidden behind armour that was probably as old as Myrkentown itself. "Sa draeda ivon nodala." As that was said, another stood and gazed at the warrior elf. Vanidor, himself, only cracked the smallest of smiles as this one, clad in blue robes as rich as any noble rose his hands and swiftly prattled something in that selfsame tongue.

Another joined that, robed this time in bands of silver and purple, and soon there was shouting (or as near to shouting as such wispy voices could be) back and forth between the elf in plate and the two robed individuals. The drow besides Vanidor blinked rapidly at this, before sinking into her chair somewhat... shyly. Vanidor himself leaned towards Glenn and Rhaena. "Gillian, the one in the plate, says we should find this Ashfiend and burn him from the face of Amasynia. As he puts it... 'That devil should be destroyed'. Halanithra, there, the one in the blue robes thinks we should attempt to use our magic against him. But Tuon, there, thinks both ideas are silly and we should leave you humans to your own devices. He thinks that our magics and wards are more than enough to keep him from destroying the sanctity of our Enclaves."

Again, Vanidor smiled as the shouting continued between the trio, and soon enough the energy of their bickering brought about the appearance of all of the Elves within the enclave. There were thirty of them, in all, it seemed. And their gazes swept from the trio of arguing elves towards the Elf Lord himself. Vanidor simply sat, looking amused. "Ah, here Tuon agrees that perhaps some sort of succor should be offered to the humans of Myrken, but Gillian is still arguing for a strike against Ashfiend himself. Hah, he would take all five of our warriors for this, no matter the cost to the Enclave." Vanidor smiled enigmatically. "He still recalls the old days, does young Gillian."

"You say that the Ashfiend is consumed by hate, though his nemesis has been destroyed. What drives him still, Sir Burnie?" This, while the others continued to argue. But, at least, there seemed to be sides taken. Tuon had gained a couple, and Halanithra three. Gillian was surrounded by five other elves, the only ones besides himself and Vanidor who bore arms. Grim looking those five were, with arms crossed over their chests. "Is it simply hate for the living... or is there more?"

One should always be drunk. That's all that matters... But with what? With wine, with poetry, or with virtue, as you chose. But get drunk. - Charles Baudelaire


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Postby Glenn » Thu Nov 29, 2007 12:53 am

This was... certainly not his mandate. The mapmaker tended to feel quite strongly about things, and it showed whenever he spoke with his heart and not his mind, whenever he lived in the moment and did not plan things out. There was a somewhat daunted look upon his face as he watched the arguing, but it was hidden quickly. There was, however, another reach for Rhaena's hand. Moral support.

And then... well, he did promise he would tell Vanidor everything if it came to this. Unfortunately, they were in the process of working out some of the very last answers themselves. There were some things they were almost certain about though, and he spoke them, while watching the spectacle before him, as opposed to meeting the gaze of the elf.

Some things were VERY clear. "It IS more. Teron was once a good man who lost everything, who surrendered to his hatred. This was six thousand years ago, Councilor." It was the sort of scope he hoped the ancient being would appreciate. "In doing so, he allowed this.. archdemon," a term that was not completely accurate, but would be understood well enough, "the target of his hatred, to transform him into the Ashfiend. He is not a being who simply hates. No, he is a living embodiment of hatred itself. He feeds off of it, his own and others, needs it to survive. The attack on the Kaczmareks? That was done strategically, to inspire hatred in those who opposed him. Were Teron to stop hating, stop striking at those around him, then he would simply cease to be. This is the threat we face now, Councilor." And this is why if they were to fail, the Ashfiend would NEVER be satisfied, would NEVER stop. They would not be safe forever.
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Postby Vanidor » Thu Nov 29, 2007 9:55 am

"So, then, you need to bring him peace. This is what you are saying. Or suggesting, in any case, correct?" The trio of elves had moved from their places, coming closer together and speaking to themselves in a heated string of words. Their followers had collected as well, standing in a respective semi-circle behind the one whom they believed had the correct idea of things. As it happened, at least, there were more elves collectively on the side of -helping- in some way, then there were for remaining neutral.

Vanidor leaned back into his chair once more, steepling his fingers before him. The Tressym nodded to itself, and then leaned forward and gobbled the remaining piece of venison from his plate. "Bring him peace, then, that is what needs to happen." As he said this, his ice-blue eyes moved away from the two before him and focused upon Halanithra for a moment.

One should always be drunk. That's all that matters... But with what? With wine, with poetry, or with virtue, as you chose. But get drunk. - Charles Baudelaire


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Postby Glenn » Thu Nov 29, 2007 12:16 pm

Glenn leaned an elbow upon the table, beside his plate. His head crashed down to rest on his fist. Bring him peace. Yes. Why would they never have thought of that? They... alright, professional, mature. Come on, then, Glenn. The elves are just getting caught up on this information. "There you see the main reason for the death of the Kaczmareks, for the destruction of Foggy Bottom when something less horrific would have achieved his goal. He KNOWS that we would offer him peace, and he hurts us as much as he can to prevent it, to prevent us offering it. Part of him desires it. Part of him fears it, for it would mean his death. It is difficult, Councilor, and people are dying."
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Postby Vanidor » Thu Nov 29, 2007 4:03 pm

And give Vanidor some credit for conjuring up this solution so swiftly. It was -your- governor who kept such secrets close to heart. "I can only presume that you already have a... semblance of a plan, hrm. Else you would not have come to the Enclave seeking information in such a manner. Even if this was just a... mission to feel out the mood of my people." Vanidor cast a sideways glance at the other elves. At the argument in general.

Or, rather, the argument that had come to a draw. The trio of elves that had started the ordeal were now facing Glenn and Vanidor. The one in the plate, Gillian, sniffed slightly then stepped forward. "The Triumvirate has come to a decision, Coron Vanidor." Tuon grunted at this, his arms folded across his slender chest. The other, Halanithra, nodded in a self satisfied manner.

It was Halanithra who stepped forward next. "It is our decision to give aid to the Humans of Myrken, in honour of the First Accord, if you are in agreement Coron." Vanidor simply arched an eyebrow, then glanced towards Glenn as the other elf continued. "We are sad to state that we lack the resources to offer martial aid to this endeavor, but myself as well as both of my apprentices have agreed to travel to the Township and offer what magic we can give. As well as Earthbinder Falain."

Here, Tuon grunted again, then said in strangely deep voice. "As it has been, so shall it be. The decision of the Triumvirate shall be sent to Coron Darien as well, and perhaps assistance can be released from his Enclave as well. The Vanileria of Myrken shall assist your people." A thing which made Vanidor crinkle his face in a grin. The drow besides him poked him in the side with a pair of fingers, however the grin didn't fade away.

"Tradition is an honoured thing when your race lives for eternity, Sir Burnie. And change can be hard to accept, when it needs to be. Return to your Governor, let him know that Halanithra and Falain are coming."

One should always be drunk. That's all that matters... But with what? With wine, with poetry, or with virtue, as you chose. But get drunk. - Charles Baudelaire


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Postby Glenn » Fri Nov 30, 2007 12:26 am

Cinnabar took little joy in holding on to such secrets, at least in Glenn's estimation, and anyway, was the mapmaker not here now, telling them what they needed to know? Still, yes, at least it proved that he had not made a horrible mistake in coming here. lenn would listen quietly to the pronouncement, having managed to sit back up straight. His food was mostly finished by now.

He wondered, for a moment, what his teacher would think. They had been so sorely lacking in arcane understanding. Ariane, Bloodmoon, Cinnabar, Malaroth and his knights, even Agnieszka and Karolinger... they had all struck at the Ashfiend, all battled him with blades and bravery but it had amounted to so little, certainly nothing resembling a permanent solution.

Though he was one of the first to have contact with her, he had not recruited Elspeth. Kyra, on the other hand, he had. And that was ignoring the brief talk he had with a channeler abut the matter. Now he was here with these elves. Truly, what choice did they have? Teron was an inhuman, preternatural creature. They had tried to reason with him. They had tried to destroy him. He was still there. People were still dying. The current plan had a chance for success but it had its flaws as well.

So finally, he would nod and rise from his seat. "I thank you for your hospitality, Cor... Councilor, and for your serious regard of this issue," and he paused before extending his gaze to the amassed group, "and for your offer of aid. I know that my mandate in coming here was more to speak on the agricultural issues, but there is time enough for that in the days and weeks to come. You have opened your archives to me." And here there was a smile that he simply could not restrain. That WAS what he had wanted the most in this visit. "I imagine you'll be seeing more than a bit of me in the very near future (even the next few days) as I pursue truths, ancient and recent. For now, however, I should return to Town and compile all the information we have on the Ashfiend in preperation for your people's arrival. Again, you have my gratitude." There was a quick glance to Rhaena, as if asking her if he had forgotten anything.
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Postby Jirai » Fri Nov 30, 2007 5:26 am

The mapmaker glanced towards her and the veiled girl nodded in response, silent as she had been throughout. There were thoughts flying through her head, certainly, but whether she would voice them even later was yet to be decided. Some things even Glenn Burnie would have difficulty getting her to discuss.
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