Aveas: Scatha+Fin - Seinor - Chyril 25th

[wyrdgirluk]

Scatha spent the next couple of days getting clean and trying to determine the attitude of the people of Seinor. The first part was easy; the local inn was everything that Paloma had said it would be, warm and comfortable, with enough hot water to satisfy even the more fastidious of bathers... something Scatha was not.

The second part was harder. Simply sitting in the inn, or around the marketplace, allowed Scatha to pick up on people's conversions, and to try and gauge the way they felt. From what she could make out, the majority of people were sullenly resentful; clearly unhappy with the invasion, but seemingly unable to do anything about it. If only they had a leader to give them focus, she mused to herself time and again. They have their destiny in their own hands, yet do not know it...

The one cheering aspect was Fin's company. Scatha liked listening to his voice, even if she didn't always understand what he was saying half the time; when he spoke, it was almost as if he were singing. And when he did sing, Scatha was entranced.

The morning of Chyril 25th saw Scatha sitting idly on a rebuilt stone wall, kicking her heels against the new stone and waiting for something - anything - to happen...

[Finodborn]

With the walking source of astonishment that was Scatha Ashtir came significant changes in Finodborn's daily life. Recently he had been spending most of his time in the dark forests of Pan's Isle physically, and in even darker places mentally.

Now he found himself sauntering through Seinor with the buxom chaos she was. Most of their communication consisted out of misunderstanding, and somehow Finodborn reckoned that a difference in mind set and world view had something more fundamental to do with it than his lack of mastery over the common tongue. He considered trying to communicate with her mentally -in images or feelings- but he was pretty sure that would probably be a scary experience for her she probably wouldn't like.

Frustrating as this continuous misapprehension was to him, the net result was that he felt better than in tides. Not only did she draw his attention away from the inertia of his people -even though she talked a lot about it- her devil-may-care attitude was fabulously attractive to his quite dissimilar self. To some extent, he was aware of the fact that she was a disaster for his focus, but somehow he couldn't really care for the time being.

However, he was also pretty convinced that he bored the hell out of the green-eyed blonde; only when he occasionally sang a tune he felt he could arouse enthusiasm in her. As such, he did his utter best do be his courteous, obliging and colorless old self and follow Scatha's hard to follow lead.

It was no wonder, then, that he found himself sitting on a little stone wall next to her, on the morning of Chyril twenty-fifth, trying to figure out whatever it was that went on in her strange if unique mind.

[Brytan]

The morning of the 25th promised to be a good one. The humidity that plagued the isle was omnipresent as always, the sun rising in a cloudless sky about the forest surrounding Seinor.

Seinor itself was a bustle of activity today. Where it had been rather peaceful the past day, this morning many people gathered on the streets. Whispers passed from man to woman, from woman to child as they walked and looked for any sign of news.

"Three of them, came in this morning..."

"Yes, and two from the north..."

"I hear they came asking for help..."

"There's dark forces at work in the west lands..."

Where Finodborn and Scatha were seated they had a good spot to catch these phrases being passed back and forth between passers by in several different languages. Whatever it was they were talking about had the entire village in an uproar. Some people walked with fear in their eyes as guards passed to proceed to the Hall of Elders. Panling priestesses darted to and fro trying to calm people, but the general feeling in the street was mixed. Fear of another threat, along with the hope of a change in the ongoing war against the Aveans.

"They're talking with the elders right now..."

"Come on Benry, don't pester the nice people."

A small boy had rushed up to Finodborn and Scatha, following a ball which he had dropped and which had bounced upto their feet. He looked apologetic as he grabbed it from between their feet and rushed back to his mother.

[wyrdgirluk]

Scatha was intrigued.

For the first time in what seemed to be absolutely ages, there appeared to be something in the air, other than the usual odours of cooking and people and animals. And their droppings. The animals, that was, not the people, although the privvies in Senior seemed to be just as bad as the ones in Dort. The people seemed to be genuinely excited and intrigued about something... something to do with visitors. Perhaps they were there to dig new privvies.

Scatha slid down from the wall, and poked Fin; "Let's go see what all the fuss is about," she said, and strolled over to where the mother of the child with the ball was. "Excuse me," she said confidentially. "I couldn't help but overhear people talking visitors, and Elders." Scatha wondered if they were woodsmen, come to plant new elder trees, but then dismissed the idea; elders were notorious for planting themselves everywhere, and then being a sod to get out. Perhaps the visitors were there to chop the elders down. "I'm a visitor as well, and I was wondering if you knew who they were." Even if the woman didn't know, Scatha decided that it wouldn't hurt to find out more, and at the very least a stroll to the Temple would stretch her legs.

[Finodborn]

"Three of what, do you reckon?" he asked Scatha, happy with the sudden outburst of activity. He himself being phlegmatic in nature too, the usual serenity of Seinor didn't really disturb him. However, he suspected that she found this place only boring. As a native and a self-declared bore, he felt somewhat responsible. Then, little did she know yet of the fae woods, the centaur plains, or the cheer the taverns of Tal'Fea.

Her poke hit him in the middle of an anticipating hop off the little wall. "Sure, let us." He had grown used to her making their way - even though she spoke no Adhiel, her direct and extraverted attitude was more than compensating. Now and then, he translated a bit of what he himself understood to the locals. More often, he translated adhiel of the locals to Scatha.

For now, he followed her around like the good boy he was.

[Brytan]

The boy rushed to his mother and hid behind her as the two strangers followed him. He started to cry when Scatha adressed the woman in her strange tongue.

"Mommy....--sniff--...I'm sorry...I...--sniff--...didn't mean to..."

The woman held her son as Finodborn caught up and had to translate some of her question.

"It's ok darling...they're not angry...go play dear, it's alright."

She looked as much to Finodborn as she did to Scatha, unsure of whom to adress as she clearly only spoke adhiel. A woman of average height with long blonde hair and deep blue eyes her heritage clearly lay elsewhere but she spoke with a Tal'Fean accent, clearly she had been on the island a long time.

"Well..." she started of reluctantly. "Talk is that early this morningtide the guards let pass a group of centaurs from the meadow to the west. I heard Penn say they came to talk of a disturbance in the west beyond the forest. And about a mark later I saw two dark adhiel...can you believe it...dark adhiel...come in and head for the Shaper hall. Has everyone in a right uproar. Nothing ever happens around here thank Pan, and now this. It's like I told Glenda from across the acorn road it's like..."

She trailed off in a long rant about neighbours and rumors laced with a lot of prejudice about other races and the humans in Aveas.

In the meantime her son was kicking around his ball...it was a nice day to play outside after all...

[wyrdgirluk]

Scatha could have smacked her head with frustration; doh! When will I remember that I'm the stranger here, and that they don't understand half of what I'm saying? She gave a shrug and smile to the boy as way of an apology, and then tried to pick out some meaning from what the woman was saying. Most of it was in adhiel, which was lovely to listen to, but mostly incomprehensible - apart from a few words. Scatha pounced on the ones that she could understand; centaurs... forest... black adhiel... Pan... Glenda... husband... away... milkman... baby... It was all very confusing. Scatha waited politely for her to stop, and then looked at Fin. "What is she talking about?" she hissed. "And what is a black adhiel? Is it someone who hasn't has a wash?"

[Finodborn]

It required quite the effort to keep on pretending he was listening to the woman's rant and at the same time respond to Scatha. The ball bouncing to and fro didn't help much either.

"It appears that the centaurs have turned up," he replied, "or at least some of them." Ignoring her understandable but faulty association, he continued: "The dark adhiel are a related family of adhiel, and generally considered rather evil. They are supposed to never leave their underground dwellings, but it appears nothing in this world is like it's supposed to be anymore. I suppose we better go to the Shaper Hall if we want to see what the fuss is about."

[wyrdgirluk]

Scatha's interest was stirred; "Evil adhiel that live underground? But why? It's much nicer in the daylight. Why do they live underground? Don't they like sunshine? Or are they scared of rain?" Scatha was secretly rather hopeful that the black adhiel were in fact rather grubby, and that they didn't like living outside in case it rained and made a clean patch. The thought of terrorising someone with a sponge and bucket of warm soapy water was almost too much to bear. "I would very much like to see one. Shall we go?"

[Brytan]

The Shaper Hall was a magical masterpiece among the scattered huts and houses of Seinor. Much like Pan's temple, which stood out like a diamond among coal, this building was clearly constructed with a great deal of diligence and precision.

It too was nearly circular, roughly two stories high (compared to human architecture) made up of living trees and branches growing from the soil and intertwining at the base to form walls of living bark and leaves. The leaders of Seinor, consisting partly of some of the few Shapers the island had, had chosen to put some energy into crafting this hall for themselves and the citizens of Seinor to meet at when important decisions or news had to be shared.

This was one of those moments.

Outside the hall, in the main square, many people were gathered, hoping to catch a glimpse of what was going on inside, talking about what had been seen, earlier the morningtide. Through a large arch in between two pristinely white berch trees, entrance could be gained to the inside of the hall, the sunlight washing in through the canopy of leaves which covered this hall, similar to the temple. It was cooler here, the broken light of the sun reflected on a basin of water in the center, a large treetrunk with outgrown branches standing in the middle, forming a large circular table over the pool, with stepping stones leading to shaped wooden chairs.

Two guards stood in front of the arch, through which this display could be seen. Usually open to all, now the hall was shielded off while a meeting was in session. As Finodborn and Scatha approached, they too were stopped by the guards, inside, a lively debate could be overheard, though the words were barely audible over the murmur in the crowd outside.

"Namaste citizen, do you have business with the Shapers?" This question was directed at Finodborn, while Scatha was mostly ingored save for a few questioning looks from the guards.

[Finodborn]

"They didn't choose to live there. They were put there, and it was the centaurs' job to keep them there. I don't know where they lived before that. The few dark adhiel I met didn't know themselves. But sure, let's go see if we can catch a glimpse."

Finodborn was shocked to find himself caught in a mass of spectators that was denied access.
"Namaste, good man. Say, it must be because I was out of town for some tides, but since when exactly are the decisions in our community made behind closed doors? Are they closed with the authority of Paloma or Eillish? It has always been our custom to hear important visitors, determine course of action and think about things together, has it not?" His tone was calm, but his heart angry. He, as well as anybody else here, had invested much. Now for some individuals to feel important and take power in their private hands was a little much to bear. The backing of an eager-to-see Scatha gave him that little extra courage.

While discussing with the guards, his ears tried to find a way, meandering between the ripples of sound that were the collective murmerings of the crowd, to hear what was being said inside.
He tried to feel whether Whimsy was nearby. She was an eavesdropper extraordinaire.

[Brytan]

The guard seemed polite enough, not at all threatening in his posture he stood before Finodborn and nodded at the questions posed.

"Priestess Paloma has tasked us with the duty of watching the doorway until she and master Dilani and his apprentices are apprised of the situation." His tone denoted a sense of monotony, as if he'd been reciting a similar sentence several times already. "They have asked us..." he pointed to his fellow guard and himself "...to assure everyone that no descisions are as yet made, and that an open forum will be held shortly to address what is being discussed."

Finodborn's attention trailed off into the Aether, looking for the fae who should be around Seinor, and himself more importantly, these days still. Though the portal had not been active in ages, and it had been some time since they had last spoken there had not been much proof as to her presence. Still, he caught something in the air, like the twinkling of little bells blown over to his ears by a soft breeze. It seemed to be coming from inside.

[wyrdgirluk]

Scatha was bemused by Fin's answer; she was rather intrigued to know who had put the dark adhiel underground, and more to the point, why centaurs were supposed to keep them there. To her way of thinking, centuars seemed to be one of the worse possible choices to keep anything underground, as they were far too occupied with galloping round and enjoying themselves. It still didn't explain why they were put underground in the first place either. It was all very interesting.

The guard and Fin seemed to be having a rather heated conversation; well, Fin at least seemed to be heated. The guard just looked bored. Scatha just wanted to see a grubby elf whilst she had the opportunity. "Why won't they let us in?" she asked petulantly. "Do we have to pay?"

[Finodborn]

"I see," he commented. He still didn't trust the way things were handled, but he didn't see much point in arguing further. His shoulders dropped somewhat in disappointment as he turned to Scatha.

"They don't want to let us in, but they will after they've made sure for themselves that it's ok. I don't really understand either. I guess we'll just have to wait."

He tried to hang on to the shred of sound that was the chime of Whimsy's soul. At the most fundamental level, they communicated in a mental representation of the sound, simply because she seemed to prefer it that way. Attempting to feed back her echo, he tried to lure her attention.

[Brytan]

"Hello Finodborn."

Whimsy's voice came from above. Looking up above the doorway to the hall Finodborn saw the fae sitting there comfortably, looking down at him and Scatha.

"It's been a while, how've you been?" She flitted down from her perch and hovered in front of his face, circling around his head a few times before landing again on a branch which stuck out of the wall of the shaped hall. The guards in front of him did not seem to take note of the little creature at all.

"You look worried Finodborn, are you ok? Getting enough sleep, or rummaging about with the pretty ladies?" She giggled as she glanced sideways at Scatha.

[wyrdgirluk]

Scatha's eyes went as wide as saucers; something flitted down and around Fin's head, before settling on a nearby branch. At first she'd thought it was a large and rather spectacular dragonfly that had confused Fin's hair for some reeds, but closer inspection revealed the something to be... something nearly human. Only with wings. And muchm much smaller. And it talked.

Scatha was entranced. She poked Fin in the ribs again, quite gently this time, so as not to disturb the something-with-wings-that-talked. "What is it?" she murmured. "It's very pretty, whatever it is. Does it bite?"

[Finodborn]

Hi Whimsy, he spoke in her mind; maybe the guards were oblivious of her presence, but they wouldn't necessarily exclude the possibility that he was a dangerous madman if he started talking to unnoticeable things.

It has been a while indeed. What have you been up to? We've received help in our cause, he said, eyeing Scatha from the corners of his eyes. We've been sauntering around doing nothing much the past few days. She's one hell of a decoy, at the very least. It isn't entirely sure for who though.

I'm afraid I drew your attention for purely selfish reasons, though. Something's going on inside, and for some reason not all of us are invited, he continued, casually glancing at the assembled mass. You don't think you could take a peek for us? I'd owe you a favor, of course.

"No, it's a friend" he whispered in Scatha's ear. "But if we want her to go eavesdropping for us, we better not point out her presence to the guards. I'll explain later."

[Brytan]

Whimsy sat on the branch looking around at the crowd outside. The guards stood undisturbed as the two friends exchanged pleasantries and questions through the Aether. Scatha could see the fae, her small heart shaped face above a tiny body, wings protruding from her back reflected the sunlight, making it appear as if they were a thousand different colours at once. She could not hear Finodborn's part of the conversation, but Whimsy replied vocally, completely unafraid of any bystanders overhearing.

Which ofcourse didn't happen.

"Oh, and such a pretty one she is too..." Her eyes trailed to Scatha, and she smiled broadly. "I can imagine she distracts you from time to time." The fae got up and fluttered down to just in front of Scatha, extending a tiny hand in greeting, far too small to shake. "Whimsicality P. Delphinium, but my friends call me Whimsy. You can call me Whimsy. What is your name?"

Quickly distracted after the formal introduction she landed on the shoulder of one of the guards and glanced inside, seemingly having an enormous amount of fun in not being seen. "Oh, you know, I've been around. Putting my ear to the ground so to speak. Lot going on in the woods these days, it's almost like old times. Everything's a mess. That's what the whole shebang inside is about aswell. I've been listening for a while now, they've been at it for a bit." She whirled around the guards head a few times then darted inside to remain inside for a good five burns before coming out again and hovering right in front of Scatha and Finodborn.

"So, here's the deal; The centaur came because they saw a "wooden hawk" fly from Tal'Fea'Taur to Ursa Etheria. They fear what the repercussions might be if the Kanthrop join forces with the humans. The Darhiel came because they have been having all sorts of trouble with odd creatures invading their tunnels, ever since Ursa dropped from the sky. Now they want to invade the place and destroy the source before their city is overrun. They would need to travel across the isle. Ofcourse the centaurs disagree and your people are in the middle looking all flustered like, it's so amusing. Almost like when Kalther the satyr relieved himself in a driad meadow and had to run for his life or be turned into a tree. Then ofcourse he ran into a hive fairy which sent a whole swarm on him. I laughed for tides..."

All the information came out of the little creature at enormous speed without taking a breath in between. As if she wanted to spout it all before she forgot. When she was finished she took a deep breath and burst into laughter.

"Oh, how I miss the old days..."

[wyrdgirluk]

Scatha would have attempted to shake hands, or even a little finger, but the peculiar thing - a fae? - was simply too quick. and moved on from one thing to another with the seeming attention span of of butterfly, albeit a very pretty butterfly that moved with the grace and elegance of a dragonfly. In the end, Scatha just stood and watched and listened. Most of what the fae said meant absolutely no sense at all; she'd never heard of Tal'Fea'Taur, or Ursa Etheria, or Kantrops or Darhiel, whatever they were. Quite possibly other types of fae, she mused to herself. Although why would creatures with wings want a wooden hawk? More to the point, why would anyone want a hunting bird made out of teak? Perhaps they took it up trees and then dropped it on unsuspecting passerbys. It was all very exciting.

"I would very much like to see one of those," Scatha said out loud to no-one in particular. "But I don't see why they have to make it in the shape of a hawk. They could just leave it as a branch and drop it on people. It would knock them out all the same."

[Finodborn]

As the pair, except in appearance remarkably alike, exchanged greetings, Finodborn tried his best to suppress blushing. While he was still trying to recompose himself, there was that stream of information. As his mind tried to process the echoes of Whimsy's sentences, desperately trying to find its way around their cryptic or unclear aspects, Scatha's unique train of thought relentlessly ran over Finodborn's card tower of thought with a loud wooot.

"But the fae are not worried in the least? What do you reckon we should do, Whimsy?" Not that he expected a practical answer to that question - Whimsy seldom gave practical answers, as most of her kind. There probably wasn't anything else to do than to wait for the elders to come out of their club house.

[wyrdgirluk]

Scatha's eyes widened in sudden understanding; "Oh - I think I see. They want to catch rabbits, only they haven't got a hawk because they couldn't afford one, or else they hadn't got the patience to train it. Or perhaps it just didn't want to because it was moulting, so they made one of wood, and hid in the tree, and then they drop it on the rabbits. They must be jolly good shots, though. On the whole it might have been easier to use snares. Perhaps they didn't have any wire, but they did have some wood. And a whittling knife." Scatha was immensely pleased with this deductive theory; she was quite sure that Barrett would have been as well, and made a mental note to mention it the next time she ran into him.

Scatha turned her attention back to the charming fae flittering about their heads; "Whimsey is a jolly nice name," she said appreciatively. "And I'm Scatha, by the way. Tell me... is there much call for rabbit meat in these parts?"

[Brytan]

"But the fae are not worried in the least? What do you reckon we should do, Whimsy?"

Whimsy fluttered round and about, glancing to the door as a figure appeared in the entrance, whispering to the guards who had turned to Scatha, looking at her somewhat worried since she was seemingly talking into thin air, looking around at something they couldn't see.

"Worry, worry. What's to worry? It's not like that silly Dominicus thing a while ago. No big war, little things. We are good at little things. We are little things."

The guards stepped aside and the figure, robed in the greens and browns of the Shapers stepped out into the limelight. It was a young adhiel woman, shortly trimmed blonde hair and ocean blue eyes set into a narrow and fragile looking face. She was about a head shorter as Finodborn but had an air over her of natural authority. "All who wish to enter are allowed to. There is much to talk about and choices will have to be made."

Immediately a large mass of people started to flood towards the entrance to the hall. There was no rush, more of a general feeling of anticipation and worry. For moons the people living in Seinor had lived under the burden of fear. Being run out of their homes to find shelter among the woods they used to avoid. Whispers around them reflected this concern, as talk of a new war was all around them.

"Centaurs and Dark Adhiel running around, can't be good..."

"Maybe they will fight the Oneists and drive them off..."

"What will the Shapers decide..."

"I hope this won't take long, I have a kettle on at home..."

"Mommy, I need to pee..."

Whimsy flitted around over the heads of the crowd massing at the doorway. "Ooh, fun. It's starting. Let's go, let's go!" And without another word she skitted into the hall, leaving Scatha and Finodborn in her wake.

Following the crowd inside led them into the large circular hall of the Shapers. The living wood of the trees formed into a tall circular structure with a roof made up of the canopy of the trees, very similar to the temple of Pan. This room however was lower and wider, with crafted and shaped benches all along the outer walls, moving up the closer you came to the wall. A very natural looking bleecher rose up along the sides, granting three rows of seats to any onlookers. In the middle of the hall a podium was formed in a similar way as the seats had been. On it stood a large table around which were gathered a number of creatures and people.

Finodborn and Scatha noted Paloma first, in her green sarong she stood next to a number of other adhiel whom Finodborn recognised as Shapers, or at least apprentices. One of them held a large oak staff and was currently seated, deep in thought.
Across from this group was an assortment of odd creatures. First and nearest to them were three centaurs. The half men-half horse creatures looked savage but in some way still dignified. Their bodies covered in leather patchwork decks and clothing, their faces painted. Two of them held spears and carried bow and arrows while the third was unarmed and speaking to one of his seconds.
And then there were the Dark Adhiel. Only two of them stood, dressed in black and purple with blood red trimmings on their sleeves and cuffs. They both carried dark blades by their sides and bore a triangular symbol around their necks, crafted out of what appeared to be pure silver. Their skins were grey but other than that they bore a striking resemblance to the adhiel on the other end of the table.

The shaper woman who had granted entry stepped onto the podium and exchanged a few words with Paloma before turning to the crowd which was still looking for a good place to sit and see everything.

"If all would take their seats and listen, we can begin!"

[wyrdgirluk]

Scatha suddenly came to a startling conclusion; only she and Fin could see Whimsey. This was a new and very interesting development, full of possibilities... if only there were some way of getting Whimsey to stay still and discuss it. Unfortunately, this looked about as likely as telling a poppy seed not to flourish in the corn field.

Scatha would have given it a great deal more thought, but at that moment something happened. People started to move in to the hall, and whether she wanted to or not, Scatha found herself gently carried along with them. Fin was there as well, although they had somehow managed to get seperated, and Scatha had to elbow herself through the crowd in order to stand next to him. She gave his bottom a playful nip when she arrived; "Thought you'd lost me," she grinned, and then turned her attention to whatever it was that all the people had rushed in to see.

It appeared to be Paloma, and some centaurs, and... something else. Scatha craned her neck and gawped; she'd never seen Dark Adhiel before, and to her disappointment they weren't grubby at all - just a peculiar greyish colour that vaguely reminded Scatha of her aunt Etain's underwear. Scatha pinched Fin's bottom again; "Why are they grey?" she hissed, rather enjoying the sensation of making the bard jump...

[Finodborn]

There was something cruel about Scatha Ashtir. Somehow she had a nose for finding undefendable spots, be they mental or, like in his case, physical. He was positively certain she would be a genius as a bully. There was really nothing else he could do but increase the distance between him and her by means of slightly saltatory automatic movement. For even an attempt to look at her chidingly would imply recognizing the fact that she actually was pinching him, a fact too embarrassing to be true. Nevertheless, the whole uncomfortable interaction did include a kind of attention from her towards him, which made him strangely contented with the stinging sensations. Of course he turned red. He hoped Paloma didn't see him, leave alone the stoic centaurs. He greeted Paloma with a gentle nod, should she notice him.

The fact that centaur and dark adhiel were in the same room not actively trying to kill each other was rather strange. The only reason for this could be an even more dangerous mutual enemy.

"It's because they normally don't ever see sunlight. It gives their skin that color," he replied, happy to have an easier conversation topic than butt-abuse. "We should sit down now," he whispered in her ear, trying to find a good spot. "The meeting is going to start."

[Brytan]

Once most of the people had taken their seats, Paloma stepped to the front of the stage. There was quite a crowd today. Where usually a lot of the people stayed out of meetings like this one, due to themselves having only arrived shortly, or having other things to attend to, now it seemed as if the whole of Seinor was fighting for a spot to listen and see what was going to happen. As soon as Paloma took the scene, the chatter swiftly decreased to a subtle murmur. At which point the priestess started to speak.

"Dear people of Seinor, of Gatetown, of Pan's Isle. First of all our apologies for the wait. We would not have kept you in the dark for as long as we have, had we not thought it prudent to do so. There are grave matters which have to be decided upon and we needed to get all the information straight."

During her short pause, more whispers went up in the semi circle around the stage.

"We appear to be faced with a new threat. According to our friends from the Centaur tribes, the Oneists have sent a scouting party to the island which fell from the sky only a few moons past. What resided there we did not know and time nor resources have been on our side to investigate thus far."

More whispers and some shouts.

"Do they know what's there?!"

"Yes, they do." Came Paloma's response. Which immediately quieted down the entire room. "Tribal emmisary Gha'chek has told us that they have had contact with the people of the island ever since they came to the island." The unarmed centaur in the middle nodded and stepped up beside Paloma, causing an impressive visage of the tall muscular figure next to the frail priestess. "Emmisary?"

"Yes. Thank you priestess." He turned to the audience.

"The island you speak of is known to my people as "Kel'thwa" or "Taken" in your language. To it's current inhabitants it is known as "Ursa". It is inhabited by a fierce tribe of warriors who up until today had no contact with the outside world and have lived in seclusion for the better part of two centuries. They hunt the forests of Pan's Isle and as such we have had our encounters with them. The humans sent a...ship?...to their island some two turns ago."

"You forget the creatures you stupid horse!"

One of the dark adhiel stepped forward. He eyed the centaur with a measure of malcontent beyond anything.

"Ever since that bloody island landed, our tunnels have been flooded with dark creatures, blending into shadow and destroying all that stand in their way. They ravage the living and feed on the dead. I don't know why you'd be friendly with a people who nurture such beings on their grounds, though I can come up with a few reasons, seeing as the bloody rock was taken from your meadow."

The centaur snarled and the two armed guards moved as the second dark adhiel showed a part of his blade, drawing it from the sheeth. This action was quickly cut short by several adhiel guards stepping in and Paloma taking the stage once more. The crowd was loving the spectacle, but worried voices also went up as to where this would be leading.

"So you see we are faced with not one, but possibly two potential new enemies. Having heard both the centaurs and the adhiel emmisaries we can conclude that the...shifters...and the dark creatures are different beings, but with Oneist intervention both might be swayed to fight against us. Our dilemma is now, what shall we do?'

"Send an army to wipe them out!"

"Go after the Oneists and kill them, persuade these people to help us!"

"I think they're all lieing, why should we get into more trouble as it is?!"

Lots of shouts and whispers, talk and tantrums arose among the spectators. Fear and hatred towards the Oneists was mixed with hope and more fear for a new enemy and the chance of being chased from their new home altogether. Scatha and Finodborn were in the middle of a group who seemingly heavily opposed the whole idea of doing anything and was exclaiming that fact loudly.