|
|
Post by Akshoon on Apr 26, 2022 2:55:31 GMT
The fire crackled, breathing its smoke into darkening sky as dusk settled on Vynne. To the west, a myriad of blues, orange, and pink hues painted the sky near the horizon, the final farewell of the sun as it fell to slumber. To the east, the deeper black and blues of night encroached, heralding quiet hours ahead. From his seat at camp, Akshoon witnessed it all, even turning an errant gaze to the city in the distance as he noticed the first streets becoming lit with the light of street lamps and changing guards bearing lanterns as they moved to their post. A city like Vynne rarely slept, there was always something going on within it's borders, but from his camp Akshoon was at least thankful that the noise did not pollute his ears as he took in the night around him. The site itself was decent, located on a hill some distance from the road, overlooking it as it snaked through to the city by the sea. Over the fire, the bounty of the day roasted in a pan. Rabbit, mushrooms, root vegetables, and some herbs.* The Orc from Blackroot was settling in for the evening, it seemed. Lavandul |
|
|
|
Post by Lavandul on Apr 26, 2022 3:27:07 GMT
Lavandul wasn't one to stay in a city longer than a year or two, if only to nurse a particularly grievous injury, or pursuing a contract that demanded a slow and methodical investigation. Cult cracking was more Everbeam's field of expertise, but the cleric had had their fair share of sick officials or spiritual corruption that went beyond the pale of affluenza. The concept of vigilantism ended when other forces were at play.
This month, however, had been quite different. Whatever had happened had left its mark, and the cleric found themselves stumbling through the streets with intolerable migraines, dumbstruck fugues, and sputtering vision. The creeping concern that whatever illness their father had suffered under had finally manifested itself as genetic, but they brushed it off the crackle of ice as being in a negative mood. With the monastery no longer being a refuge under the attentions of 'concerned' elites, inns had proved intolerable, and brothels were expensive. The noise was making them sick, and earthly distractions hadn't soothed anything.
They followed a familiar route that would provide a reliable space to drop the armour and hide, only to sigh quietly when they smelled the smoke. The heavy trudging of their approach was likely more than enough warning, but the Night Stalker had a hard time measuring the shadows of the evening, and preferred to avoid a startled arrow to their mask.
"No meeting is an accident," they called out in Elvish, before course correcting to Common as they beheld the Orc. Their tongue felt like lead as they fumbled back to the tired demand of conversation, "Oh, yes, hello. I didn't expect to see anyone out here."
They halted then, not wanting to invite trouble, but also reluctant to turn back around. If anything, they could work out spacing as not to surprise each other in the night when Lavender would eventually forage something.
The green carpeting of the forest's understory started to brown, curl, and wither around their boots.
|
|
|
|
Post by Akshoon on Apr 26, 2022 5:39:40 GMT
Scarlet eyes finding his masked guest, Akshoon reached first for his staff as he sat straighter in his seat. It was a thing of instinct, but, as the figure spoke and their hands remained unarmed with weapons, the Orc softened. He observed the figure for some long moments, his gaze looking to the withering that surrounded their person with a mixture of concern and curiosity. Akshoon released his staff, letting it rest on his shoulder as he turned his attention back to the meal he had been preparing.
"Nor I," he responded, "It is rare I see someone leaving the city at dusk... Do you wish to share the fire?"
It was a matter of courtesy among travelers and Akshoon saw no reason to refuse it.
|
|
|
|
Post by Lavandul on Apr 26, 2022 6:58:16 GMT
Their mouth opened as they started a response, sliding back the mask at least half-way for the courtesy and spare the other of guessing whether they were speaking with some haunt. The pause nudged them to voice their thoughts out loud.
"...You know, that's actually a complicated question right now. I suppose it spares me the trouble, but I can also pay you back in a fashion you prefer."
The travel pack was unshouldered, and they were careful with telegraphing where their hands were going as the shield and warhammer were unceremoniously dropped in an impromptu pile. Being outside the city and not another Elf in sight, they fully removed the mask, clattering as it landed on top of the other metal. Their hand smoothing back the tight cowl in a tangle of silver hair and black-thorn growths, with sharp ears that were mostly in tact.
Without the tinted glass, their oath to Twilight caught the light of the campfire in an eerie manner, casting it back in a mirror-like fashion more suited for forest beasts. "Goodness, that's better," they muttered, rubbing their face with pale flesh that was a little too reflective to be natural. Without the leather and metal, frost swirled with their breathing, leaving small marks on the natural surfaces they touched.
"Ah! To answer the strangeness of my timing, I promise you that I am not-" what was the word Dhakin used? "-a brigand. The sunset is the time of my vigil, when the sun doesn't continue to blind me and the prowlers come out to ruin everyone's evening." The heavy scarring around their face didn't do much to argue their case, but the Elf-shaped nature spirit seemed determined to be casual with the druid.
"...Are you visiting someone in the city?"
It didn't seem like the man needed to stock up on supplies.
|
|
|
|
Post by Akshoon on Apr 26, 2022 18:23:22 GMT
The Orc lifted his gaze as the scarred elf settled in, eyes resting on their nigh unnatural complexion for a moment before returning his task and portion part of the roasted meal into a bowl.
"If you're suggesting gold, keep it. Don't want it. Don't need it," Akshoon offered with a grumbling chuckle, "Otherwise, just offer the same courtesy to another when the time comes. Life is easier out here when people get along... that and you've caught me in a good mood."
A smile was offered at the end to drive home the jest as he brought the bowl over, a gray hand extending out to the unplanned guest.
"Eat," he said, "The land was bountiful and I have plenty."
Whether the bowl is taken or not, with Akshoon leaving it beside the figure if it is not taken, the Orc would return to his seat settling in and portioning a bowl of his own.
"The noise get to you?" Akshoon asked, summarizing the strangers words to what he believed they were saying, "A vigil, hmm? Are you a ranger or some member of the night watch?"
At their question, Akshoon turned his gaze, looking past the city and across the sea beyond.
"No. I came initially to help a friend board a ship bound for Elderherst," Akshoon answered, "but I am on a Long Walk. I aim to learn more about the land and its people, Vynne serves well enough in that regard."
Turning his gaze back to his current company, the druid realizes his lack of introduction.
"I am Akshoon of the Blackroot," he offered.
|
|
|
|
Post by Lavandul on Apr 27, 2022 1:49:53 GMT
Without the mask, the elf's animated expression didn't hide the sardonic split-lipped smirk when Akshoon mentioned 'gold', the chill rolling as they quietly rattled off a sentence in a twisting, wild language before taking the offering. They didn't seem in any particular hurry, not eating just yet as they listened to the Orc speak, or maybe they were waiting to see if something else happened.
Whatever caution was being taken, Lavandul seemed satisfied with the lack of surprises. However, rather than a 'thank you', they offered information as payment. "With this area in particular...the waterfall towards the eastern mountains, beyond the stone trio and iris field? Make sure you float some flowers or fruit in the river before using it. She's quite temperamental, and will never say as much....but you'll know when her daughters start to show themselves," they chuckled helplessly, already tired from the memory. "Avoid the water, if you get to that point. Figs and blueberries, or at least crack the chestnuts first."
As they rambled, the travel pack had been opened as they started pulling out various wrapped implements — organized for accessibility and priority. Being unused to conversation didn't mean the cleric wasn't chatty, as long as it was a topic they were knowledgeable with. They hadn't been offering up their name, nor had planned to as passing ships in the night, so Akshoon's own and the question of vocation dragged their mind back to the regular beats of civility.
"I have been called Dominé Lavandul, a Night Stalker — the layman of Fate's scale against the threat of darkness — I serve an oath to upholding the peace of the Evening Revelry. Some of the knights of the Order of Saint Isaac call me Father for a local title with their monastery." They shrugged, "Whatever vernacular you prefer. It's all accurate in its own way... If you don't want to be over the top, Lavender's fine."
'Lavandul' was the priest's insistence of correcting their parents' poor choice in name, localizing it to something befitting Elven society. But it all meant the same damn thing, and they juggled enough languages and cultures as it was.
"...So, I run into druid's from time to time, and you fit the mold. But I have no idea where Blackroot is, or if it's in relation to a Circle." They remembered the stew, finally taking to silence as they tossed the discussion back to the friendly outdoorsman.
|
|
|
|
Post by Akshoon on Apr 27, 2022 2:26:43 GMT
Another chuckle sounded as the Orc understood the priest's words as Sylvan.
"No tricks, only food," he offered in the Sylvan tongue.
Taking his first few bites, the Druid looked to his guest as they provided information as a means to pay for his hospitality.
"This is good to know. It sounds like a site worth protecting... but I shall do what I can from afar," Akshoon said, "For now at least."
There was a nod as Lavandul offered details on themselves.
"And what does Fate decree you hunt?" Akshoon asked. The druid was not well versed in religion, but it seemed worthwhile to see if he and Lavandul bore some common ground, "I will call you whatever you prefer. Given that you gave the name Lavandul, I suspect that is your preference?"
As the stalker afforded their basic understanding of druidic traditions by mentioning circles, the druid seemed lightly impressed.
"I have met very few who understand we Druids are not all of the same creed. Many assume we are just wild folk, but at least they are half right," he offered, "I'm not surprised you have not heard of Blackroot Grove, it is some distance from here. More than a week's walk and deep within the woodlands... We abide by the Circle of the Moon, hence their isolation. Few have cause to visit our home and I doubt many of my brethren have ventured to the City of the Sea."
A waterskin was opened and the Orc drank healthily, wiping the excess on his sleeve.
"Forgive my words, if they come across harshly," he began, "However, I must know... do you have an affliction? I have noticed your effect on the undergrowth and the chill that surrounds you."
|
|
|
|
Post by Lavandul on Apr 27, 2022 5:20:18 GMT
The Sylvan response would have made a younger version of themselves jump, expecting the complicated and unpredictable. When it became clear Akshoon had simply been taught, they snorted a silent chuckle with a visible puff of vapor.
Fate didn't rear its head in the riddles of other's stories. When the inevitable call to action didn't come because some grove was blighted by the corruption, the tensing shoulders unhitched. They simply nodding as the Orc nudged for a better confirmation of their name — they supposed Lavandul was the "proper" one.
Lavandul wiped their nose reflexively at the question of affliction, inspecting for aging blood with a slight tremor. They then fished out a small corked vial with an installed pick, scraping the wall of their gum with the traces of the powerful homemade opiate. As the migraine was immediately mitigated, the strange elf blinked.
"Just a...Oh, did they grow that much already?" They ran a hand through their hair again a second time, scarred mouth twisting in a resigned frown as they thumbed the start of branches trying to emerge from their scalp. "The frost. No, that's just my personality," they stated bluntly. Or mood. One informed the other, from what little had been known and explained to them.
Stew only a few bites in, they had moved to unwrapping on the leather pouches to draw out what appeared to be a small hoof trimmer that a Ferrier would keep on their belt.
"It can change," they sighed, cracking one of the ice-covered wooden growths with the metal instrument with an undercurrent of fatalism, hoarfrost starting to crystalize around them. Their face twitched with each muffled snap, tongue over the chipped tooth in concentration. "But I have been here for a while. Some of the Eladrin settle..."
Lavandul didn't have a way of knowing if Akshoon had any clue what they were talking about.
The Children of Chaos.
Their existence was a bit of a guarded concept behind a healthy wall of nationalistic xenophobia, but it wasn't like anyone stopped them from interacting with the world. It wasn't the same as the Everaans and the Aasimar, but the spiritual sensitivity had some parallels for sure. Before they continued, they explored the Orc a bit,
"When you say a long walk, is this a sort of right of passage to expand your knowledge?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Akshoon on Apr 27, 2022 23:10:44 GMT
The Orc's expression grew grim.
"I have never met one of the Eladrin," he offered, his tone cautious, "I have only heard rumors... Some say your people are fae spirits inhabiting the corpses of dead elves."
To Lavandul's question, Akshoon offered a nod.
"In a sense," Akshoon answered, "In many ways, I have mastered my understanding of our traditions. My departure would have been frowned upon otherwise. However, my mastery is young and I seek more understanding of the world before I choose my ultimate path. All druids who learn from the Blackroots must take this journey, but I will admit that I have traveled further afield than most. Many stick to the wilds not far from the grove, learning within the depths of the forest. Ultimately, it is up to us to determine when the journey is done. Many return to the grove thereafter, but some do not and seek to establish a grove elsewhere."
|
|
|
|
Post by Lavandul on Apr 28, 2022 0:10:22 GMT
"Ah, well, that isn't surprising," they offered, switching to grooming their hair and catching any stray splinters within the accumulated knots from the day. The Orc's tight demeanor had the elf partially reflect on what had been said or not said with the conversation, trying to pinpoint the social gaffe and what would set off a druid of all people. "So'Dannans tend to squirrel away the topic."
As Akshoon confirmed the gist of their assumption, they remembered the stew that was long cold in the proximity to their aura. "Mnh!" They swallowed, briefly remembering not to talk with their mouth full, "Right, I hunt many things, but the common thread is what would pose a threat to the night...to hunt those who use shadows to conceal their evil. My vigil is single star among many, so the entropy of the cosmos don't swallow us to a bleak horror of frozen torment."
Hopefully that made sense. It was a clunky way to articulate a faith, and they relied on a lot of metaphor under the restrictive voice of Common Language. Though their way of speaking had been criticized more than once as, well, dramatic.
|
|
|
|
Post by Akshoon on Apr 28, 2022 2:23:39 GMT
His expression relaxed as Lavandul seemed to dismiss the allegation. After all, they did not seem to be gripped with undeath.
"So long as you are not among the undead, I will conclude those words are merely a rumor then," he mused.
As Lavandul offered an explanation of their task, Akshoon finished his meal, setting the bowl aside as he roughly wiped his mouth on his sleeve. The waterskin again was taken to his lips and drank heartily to wash down the taste if his dinner.
"A Stalker that hunts darker ones... a fitting vocation," he offered, "I have known rangers of a similar cut, although their task was more often the hunting of things that should not be."
"And what does your faith deem as evil?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Lavandul on Apr 28, 2022 4:48:47 GMT
Lavandul's face pinched, looking pained for a moment as they considered recent events and the issues it created with the local monastery. They only offered a nervous chuckle as they finished their own food.
"...Needless cruelty, I suppose. That would cover most scenarios. I have cleansed isolated hovels falling to the depths of the Astral Ocean, and those listening too closely to silent whispers. Vampires, lycanthropes, and zombies..."
|
|
|
|
Post by Akshoon on Apr 28, 2022 5:53:54 GMT
Akshoon offered a gentle nod, his face bearing a thoughtful expression as he looked to the flames and listened to Lavandul's expression.
"When I was a boy, one of my teachers, Labon, once told me: A wolf does not hunt because he wishes to, but because he must," he offered, "The following winter, a nearby pack was panged heavily with hunger. The season was harsh and game proved difficult for them to take down. However, one day while I was following Labon in their hunting grounds we came across a clearing boasting over a dozen elk, with only a few showing any signs of consumption by the pack."
"I thought the wolves had gone mad, but Labon chastised me for applying my judgement so quickly to an animal I scarcely understood. She told me that such killings were rarely done without purpose in the natural order of things and we made camp to observe the carcasses from a nearby bluff. Over the next week we watched as the pack returned again and again, feeding upon the flesh preserved by the snow and frost to lesson the blow of a harsh winter. I realized then their cruelty was not as senseless as I had allowed myself to believe. I lacked perspective and allowed my assumptions to turn to belief too quickly," he concluded, "It is unfortunate that people deviate from their instincts and the natural order to willfully violate this balance... but I agree that it does happen. Our ideals are not defined by nature, but by ourselves and this makes them dangerous when we allow ourselves to consider darker thoughts. The undead are one of the clearest signs of this, there are few depravities greater than the violation of the cycle of life and death."
After a moment, Akshoon's gaze moved to the city, lit was it was with lanterns in the darkening backdrops.
"Still, there are lesser evils too and they cannot be ignored on our quests to eliminate abominations," he mused.
|
|
|
|
Post by Lavandul on Apr 28, 2022 18:48:03 GMT
"That is a good story, but one I do not find applicable to the wider notion of spiritual and ethical responsibility."
They weren't disagreeing, just unsure. Akshoon likely wasn't seeking a lively debate nor troubled himself with societal woes beyond what immediately required his attention. It wasn't a criticism either, just two entirely different world views.
"I will still cull natural ailments if ignoring it tips the scales towards disaster. A successful wolf pack will still bring misery, even though surviving well isn't evil. The flourishing arcane spread of the Fey Wilds will swallow entire villages. A denizen of chaotic forces would argue we are interloper to their own endurance and prosperity. But their existence still evokes suffering. And so here I am. And all of this plane's citizens. Between. I just picked a side."
|
|
|
|
Post by Akshoon on Apr 30, 2022 8:22:39 GMT
Akshoon looked back to his guest granting a shrug.
"Perhaps not to you, but our responsibilities are not shared," he offered plainly, his voice even. The pair were having a conversation and the Orc seemed even tempered despite the conflicting ideology.
"I cannot expect you to abide by the traditions I was raised with. Your service is to a god, mine is to something else," he said, "Although I will say a thriving village can bring misery on their own. Many take more than the need from the lands around them and complicate the question of balance. It is easy to place the blame on forces who cannot defend themselves with words."
This was what it meant to be a druid in Akshoon's mind. Many within cities and even small hamlets placed their own wants over the needs of the land around them. The nature of many people was to lie to themselves and place the blame for their hardships on animals and disasters that lacked the capacity to defend themselves intellectually. Thus, it fell to those who took up the guardianship of the wilds to keep people honest.
"Your comment on the Fey Wilds is an intriguing one given your heritage, though I admit its spread gives me some concern as well," Akshoon mused, "Do many Eladrin agree with you?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Lavandul on May 1, 2022 7:56:02 GMT
"No, they are," the elf said in a contemplative tone, "Just focused on one of the sides of a great scale. My service isn't to a God. It's to the universe itself." They were fiddling now, wide awake in the dawn of evening. Faerie fire flickered behind their eyes as the blanket of night only served to illuminate. "It's good of you to ensure civilization doesn't wipe out the environment. Wouldn't want the land sick." It wasn't exactly what Akshoon had said, but the elf could sympathize with an animal as much as they could an ant. It was a part of the landscape and bore no ire, but so brief in their lives it was inconsequential. At least humanoids had the potential for impact. "I would actually have to talk to one to trade opinions. I would assume my dedication lends itself to bias and philosophical differences? But I'm sure they would appreciate our lands staying...well, not stable, but at least traceable to its boundaries. This world wasn't meant to adjust to ours. The collision is corrosive, and a cancer." |
|
|
|
Post by Akshoon on May 1, 2022 21:49:27 GMT
"I see," Akshoon offered, "So you are not a member of a temple?"
An intriguing development, if true, though the concept seemed... lonely.
"It a task few seek to understand," the Orc said of his duty, "At least not until they understand what they have to lose by being blind to its troubles. All too often this revelation comes too late."
However, the revelation that Lavandul had not meant others of their kind gifted a somber look from the druid.
"You are an orphan? It seems we have this in common," he said, "Let us hope you are right about their feelings towards the collision. Nature can adapt to a great many things, but this... it is beyond adaptation. With luck, the people of So'Dana are researching the means to close the rift before our destruction is assured."
|
|
|
|
Post by Lavandul on May 2, 2022 0:59:26 GMT
"...Am I part of a temple? In a way. I was trained by one, but we all have our own trail. There isn't a pantheon or a deity that wears the face of what we follow, and our interpretations of such things are accepted as personal. It's...not...practical to enforce a sameness, or even splinter into denominations? We aren't less organized for it, because what drew us in the first place is the same calling," they tried to explain. Elves following the Fates could end up a druid just as much a cleric or paladin. Lavandul's direct service to the Fates just had different demands and expectations. The clerics of their order existed because they decided they were going to codify ritual to enact a universal law, defined by the nature of its very chaos. It granted them magic that could be taken away if they violated these laws, until they sought penance.
Really, it just meant more rules.
"I can work with clerics of the order of Saint Isaac because we have the same goals, though they would be concerned that I see the Empress as needlessly assigning human characteristics to a divine force. I don't find this blasphemy, but to them it's a dismissal and thus disrespect to a matriarch. I argue I'm not spitting on their cosmic mommy, and then they ask why can't I just praise her then." They chuckle, shrugging. "I think this is why people are baffled when I do, in fact, have strong beliefs. It all sounds vague to those who aren't elves, because the answer takes time."
It also sounded pretentious and harder to access. There wasn't an immediate promise of reward, or individual appreciation. Maybe the druid could empathize with that idea.
"Um- I'm not an orphan..." they flushed, just now recognizing that Akshoon had made a personal connection and they were now snatching it away. "We just have less children in comparison, so the chances of having something like me comes up less often. Or- wait that isn't what you mean," they corrected, tucking some hair behind their damaged ear. "My father is an elf and my...mother...is a dryad, and that doesn't..." they trailed off, with the weight of cultural expectations causing pause even in private. You weren't supposed to talk about it.
"The elves are trying," they confirmed.
|
|
|
|
Post by Akshoon on May 2, 2022 1:32:46 GMT
"I see... Each of you walk your own path, but in the end it leads along the same road," Akshoon mused, granting the Eladrin, "The Blackroots are similar. All of its druids value the Circle of the Moon, but there is variation. There is a recognition that each of us must find where we must walk in our duties. This is why the Long Walk exists... though I suspect I have traveled closer to the city of Vynne than my brothers and sisters in the grove, but... I've always been one to see where my feet take me."
The comment on the sensitivity of the Order of Saint Isaac earns a hearty chuckle from the Orc.
"It gives them comfort to have some sense of identity in things, I think. Still, it makes you wonder about all they could accomplish if they didn't squabble over petty imagery," Akshoon offered, "I have seen some try to apply the same to the earth and perhaps there is a deity that concerns themselves with the natural order. I do not know, but, more than this, I do not care. God or no, the wilds still require custodianship from those who are willing to accept such duties. Thus, my path is unaltered and, if such a god exists, I doubt they see my service to the earth rather than themselves to be grounds for blasphemy."
At the comment that Lavandul indeed knew of their parents and that their birth was merely the result of rare circumstance, Akshoon looked puzzled and then accepting. There were many things he did not know and the reproduction of elves was clearly among them, particularly when it came to the Eladrin.
"Oh..." he offered, his tone denoting his slight embarrassment in regards to his hasty assumptions, "I see that this matter is... sensitive, it will be forgotten, though I will admit having the child of a spirit before me is intriguing. My origins are less storied. I am an Orc. My mentors suspect my parents were exiles from Orgthengaar, but they were able to confirm little."
There is a nod as Lavandul expressed the elves were doing what they could.
"I shall trust your words, Lavandul," he affirmed, "You seem more versed in the matter than I."
|
|
|
|
Post by Lavandul on May 2, 2022 4:31:01 GMT
As per fey emotion and the realm of their current season, the inevitable tears brimmed on multiple sensitive topics.
Lavandul had been alive long enough to no longer be childishly embarrassed by the lack of control they had over their moods; where the mask always helped with maintaining social expectations. So they didn't backpeddle or try to draw attention to the ice gathering on their miserable face.
The attempt at polite stoicism failed, their cheeks flushed with notes of summer zeal as their mind raced back to their parents and their society slowly dying without the next generation knowing what the Eladrin did. They forced a sharp inhale as they rocked back to the present and sent a wave of bristling frost to crust the area they were sitting in. The fire spit in protest, and Lavandul coughed into their arm to try to reset.
As the very issues they discussed about the Feywilds ruining the environmental manifest around them, Lavandul blinked.
"Ah. Well, I am sorry to hear about your parents. Thankfully the druids found you," they offered, trying their best to maintain the airs of a stable entity that belonged here.
|
|
