Written In Renvanna

[Ithildur]

A parchment is posted inside the Ranger Station of the small Elven village. The Espruar runes look to have been scrawled rather hastily, or perhaps by the hands of one who did not receive what some might consider proper tutelage.

Renvanna had a visit from a group of unfamiliar N'Tel'Quessir this day. If these were guests or expected travelers I was unaware of such. Most were amply armed or obviously equipped for either combat or danger.

One fellow (who I later learned was called Declan) approached me inside the Ranger station with blade in hand and demanded I halt before offering explanation or greeting. As you might imagine, I was rather alarmed and suspicious of this incursion, though eventually the group spoke to me more reasonably and assuaged my concerns somewhat, in particular one Anovallis Starmane (who stated she was a friend to elves and known to Aelenta). Declan offered an apology, leading me to conclude that though perhaps rash and blunt, he was not a bad sort. They named themselves as members of House of Wonder (which caused additional concern). Eventually however I decided they were unlikely to be a threat... for the time being.

This group claimed that they had report of an orcish strike force heading towards the village, and had arrived to lend aid to Renvanna. The questions this claim engendered in my mind were endless, but assessing the situation I concluded that some answers could wait, and perhaps the most crucial ones, determined by firsthand observation.

My mind was still torn as to what to do, especially given recent tragedies and warnings... and in particular the warnings concerning House of Wonder issued by Aelenta. I had almost decided in the end that I would simply give them my regards and compile a report, when I saw that this group was fully aware of the secret entrance from the wood below, and found it on their own. This added another layer of concern in my mind, and I determined in the end that I ought to accompany them, both to verify their intent as well as to see these orcs for myself.

Apologies if my decision disappoints you Ro, but I deemed the situation warranted swift response. It is situations such as this, that made me hesitant to give my word the other day.

I followed the group down into the wood; we dealt with the usual denizens (spiders, wolves and such) and even some ettercaps, bearing south and west, until we arrived at a narrow pass.

(drawn here is a fairly simple map showing the location/area with markings, uploaded to Discord elf channel)

Here the group found not only orcs, but strange creatures that appeared to be constructs made of flesh. They were deadly, formidable, and seemed to resist harm from weapons - it was confirmed at least some of the orcs were protected by Stoneskin, while the constructs seemed to shrug off most of the impact of nonmagical weapons. Not only were there formidable warriors among the orcs, there was at least one capable of competent spellcasting. At one point a fell skeleton warrior was seen in the foray, possibly summoned by the spellcaster.

The initial contact was nearly disastrous, with many taking heavy blows and serious damage, forcing the group to retreat and regroup. At one point I was convinced at least one member had fallen to their demise, but they seemed to miraculously recover. A long, difficult melee ensued at the end of which all remained upright, and the initial group of pursuing foes were dispatched. By means of a slower, methodical approach by Anovallis, the last remaining foes were defeated, and we investigated the camp.

My heart was much relieved to find that it was only a small camp, not an outpost. A chest was found, the contents of which confirmed that these orcs were quite well equipped somehow, with numerous magical devices meant for summoning or controlling minions such as gargoyles and constructs.

After the looting the group made their way south towards the main road; I determined that I needed to return and make a report as soon as possible and parted way with them.

Needless to say, this is an alarming discovery, a group of dangerous orcs camped this close to Renvanna. My fear is that where there are a few orcs, like the vermin that they are, there are many more somewhere out of sight. In the midst of all else that occupy our concerns, I urge that we may need to address this matter at some point.

(the report is simply signed "Ril")

P.S. We need to discuss the situation with visitors to Renvanna, and in particular... House of Wonder

[Ithildur]

An additional report is posted below the first one posted at the Ranger Station by Rothilion. The script is again rather less than elegant...

Entered Nightmare Realm with primary goal of gathering intel, secondary goal of possibly rescuing at least one villager, and tertiary goal of testing new summoning item. Being such were the priorities, I used no magical spells or potions or items other than equipped items and one summoned gargoyle.

Encountered in Nightmare Realm: one villager, one hostile scout.

Initial assessment: I found myself next to a lone male moon elven villager in what seemed to be the village center, with approaches from at least 3 directions possible. As before there were no natural chokepoints, at least not narrow enough for a small squad or lone operative. As usual, the villager did not respond to attempts to persuade them to move to better location.

Actions taken: Immediately prepared exit portal, commanded summoned gargoyle to attack foes on sight, then began to move away from center to seek out encroaching hostiles. Spotted what appeared to be a lone scout approaching slowly from one direction, no other enemies in sight.

Upon spotting the scout, launched throwing dagger as opening volley to engage and attempt to draw attention immediately away from villager, who was behind me but within bow range of the scout. After a single throw I switched to sword and shield and rushed the scout.

Scout initiated offensive with an attack never seen or reported previously: a volley of some kind of magical spikes, strangely reminiscent of those hurled by magical creatures such as the Manticore. 3 spikes were hurled simultaneously; one spike hit the gargoyle squarely but could not harm the stony skin; second spike struck myself and caused a wound comparable to an arrow launched by a strongarmed ranger. Third spike struck the villager; he was instantly 'killed'.

Melee combat with the scout proved difficult; he attacked with skill with an obviously magical blade. Though not heavily armored he proved to be quite shifty even when flanked by myself and the gargoyle. Gargoyle summon was as much a danger to myself as helpful at one point, launching a magical sonic attack that nearly stunned me while nearly crushing my lungs with the impact. Fortunately it did stun the enemy Scout, allowing me a reprieve to reluctantly use curatives to recover my waning vitality as well as an opening to strike true. The scout in turn used at least 2 curatives of a moderate strength to recover his own vitality, much to my frustration.

In the end with the gargoyle's help I prevailed and stood over my foe, injured but victorious, breathing hard as I stared at the face of the fallen. Understanding that the nightmare was essentially over, I soon gathered my thoughts and weary body, and exited the dream realm.

Such a strange, sorrowful victory I do not think I will ever become accustomed to, for not only the hapless villager 'slain', trapped in nightmare because he found himself at the wrong spot at the wrong time... but the thousands of others like him in the past of this waking world, actual flesh and blood who fell to very real steel and spells, wielded by those who under different circumstances would have been friends and kin.

I fear I will never grow used to looking at the faces of the Elven soldiers lying at my feet, their keen and fair eyes shut by my actions, even as I tell myself this is all a dream, dreams and nightmares representing events that took place many millennia ago. This victory in particular I shall remember for some time, as I realized that the face of the fallen Scout... reminded me of someone I once knew.

I will soon be haunted by nightmares of my own, if this continues for too long.

Ril

((ooc info gathered: this Scout had AB +14 melee, AC 20 or higher, will save +5, spike attack multiple projectiles, one which did 10 dmg.
Assessment of guardgoyle summon: use with caution due to the Sonic Burst spell like ability; is not a striker but could make a decent low level tank with it's natural DR, though difficult to maneuver into position to serve that role unless summoner is unseen))

[Ithildur]

It's been decades since I last attempted to keep a journal of my personal thoughts, thought the Elf who called himself 'Ril'.

But perhaps it's time... perhaps it would do me good.

Though it was customary for Elves to rehearse and review their many memories at various points during their lives, it was never a practice that 'Ril' enjoyed, which was likely why he had started then stopped attempts to keep a journal so many times before.

With a heavy sigh, he allowed his mind to reach back.

***********************************************************************************************************************************************************************************


The youthful Elf could hear the conversation meant to be discreet, spoken in the next room. The voices were not whispered, but spoken in that ancient, sibilant tongue that the learned prided themselves for knowing, a language that sounded at times almost as if it were pride personified.

The two older Elves had no idea that the young one could understand them, that he had managed to pick up bits and pieces of the Draconic tongue during clumsy, largely self taught and rudimentary attempts at the arcane Art. While his hearing was not the keenest, he picked up and understood just enough - enough to leave a lasting memory.

"... I would say ... not hopeless... but no."

"Are you certain? ... has the physical stature... intelligent enough."

"... he is sullen... withdrawn... lacks judgment... impatient."

"... aren't they all, at that age?"

"... is not suited for the path. I will not give assent."

"... such wasted potential."

"... We shall see... let him hide behind a shield. I will not give assent."

At these words the young Elf's heart had sunk low, a silent, long and resigned sigh escaping his lips. But his ears perked up, heart skipping a beat, as the exchange continued.

"... in spite of all his gifts... his sire too, was never a Bladesinger."

[Ithildur]

"You are no one,"

The words echoed across time and memory, reaching into the present, causing the Elf known as 'Ril' to shiver in anticipation. He knew what was coming next.

"No one. Do you hear my words? No one of note. No one of import. NO. ONE!"

The last words rose in volume, accompanied by a sudden furious onslaught of cold metal - shining blade ringing through the air and clashing with wooden shield, leaving dent after dent after dent until the exhausted bearer could hardly stand.

"You have no House,"

A skilled feint, then a lunge that was not a lunge, followed by a leaping Balestra that was barely deflected in time - yet Ril could never tell which stung more, the impact of the poorly parried strike, or the words that accompanied the expert barrage of steel.

"You do not even have a given name, do you? You are... like a lost little Cooshie..."

Ril barely deflected another lunge, then nearly lost his balance reacting to the followup strike. He was panting heavily, nearly at the end of his strength.

"... an ABANDONDED lost Cooshie... nameless, houseless. Unwanted."

Ril's knee nearly buckled under the surprising force of the next blow. The next one did bring him to his knees.

"And now... you will die, alone and unwant... where are you going, Ardavanshee*? Come back here NOW!"

The young Elf had had enough. Throwing down his shield and curved blade onto the floor in petulant defiance, Ril had begun to storm out - out of the chamber and out to the halls, perhaps out of the Academy of Arms completely. But not before stopping, turning to regard the cruel Sun Elven instructor with a single, hot tear rolling down his cheek.

"I may be a Houseless Elf, but I do have a name, quessir."

With gritted teeth and clenched fist, he managed to remind himself of the solemn promise made decades ago, to one of the few truly kind voices that he had known during his childhood.

"Keep it a secret. Promise me Azaoril."

"My name... is Ril."

With no small effort, he spat out the words, turned, and left the chamber. One thing he knew without a shadow of doubt; of all the instructors he had been subjected to over the past year, quessir Athanil Nimesin was by far the worst.













*‘Elven Juvenile Delinquent’ - https://www.candlekeep.com/library/arti ... on_elf.htm

[Ithildur]

[moved]

[Ithildur]

How ironic... the handaxes proved to be of some use after all.

Stripped of armor and tunic, the unusually broad shouldered Elf's taut muscles relaxed slightly, as he slumped onto a chair and buried his face in his hand. 'Ril' wiped a bead of sweat from his brow, then ran a hand through his blue-tinged raven locks. He had been hard at work for the bulk of the morn, laboring doggedly and somewhat clumsily at a craft that he had little skill in.

Gone. She's gone. And we never even had the chance to speak of...

Ril's nostril's flared, jaw tensing, eyes narrowed to slits. He felt the beginning of a hint of moisture forming in the corner of one eye. The previous night's losses were undeniably costly, but while he understood Sywyn's importance and the deep attachment some of the others had towards the Ranger, Ril himself had barely interacted with the Quessir outside of matters related to defending Renvanna.

It was a second loss, the sudden, shocking departure of Magnolia, that he was wrestling to come to terms with. And of all things, on the very night he'd planned on summoning the courage to ask her about...

NO!!! I will NOT allow myself!

The handaxe flew through the air spinning end over end until it struck wooden wall, it's sharpened edge buried deep with the force of rage.

I will... bury these thoughts, these feelings.

Even as he promised to himself, Ril became suddenly aware of an unexpected old memory, another thing that he thought he'd buried deep and out of troublesome way.

"I hear that nonsense with the silly Wood Elf is finally over,"

It was quessir Athanil Nimesin's hated voice he heard in his mind.

"Good, now you can focus. Focus on becoming the only thing you're ever going to be truly useful for. You are indeed nothing, no one. But given time... a few decades ... and the right conditions of course,"

Even in memory, Ril could almost feel the coldly evaluating grey eyes boring a hole through the back of his skull, followed by the sneering chuckle, the strategic placement of a cold hand upon his already muscular shoulder.

"You could become... a most useful weapon... in the hands of the right wielder," The lips of the instructor nearly brushed his ear as he whispered. "If you'd like, I can introduce you to such a wielder."

The Elf known to most as 'Ril' slowly rose from the chair to his full six feet, and a silent vow reaffirmed itself in somewhere deep within his soul.

I will bury these thoughts, these feelings.

[Ithildur]

(collaborative banter with AbigailAlberta from a brief impromptu Discord exchange... introducing Tasali, the 'Sweet Fox')

Tasali looks at it tilting her head
"Is that supposed to look like a duck?"

Ril continues to ignore the Wood Elf, hacking away at the wood some more, rather violently

"HEY I'M TALKING TO YOU!"

Ril stops his work, turns to regard Tasali with a completely expressionless stare

"Yes. You are."
"Was there something besides your painfully obvious observation you wished to offer? If not, I have work to do."

"I see you around here almost every day! No one will tell me what happened, just that he is gone! You're going to tell me what happened to Sywyn!" her voice broke at the end sounding painful, her hands digging into her waist
"I need to know, I need to know where to put this rage,"
"this searing pain,"
"I-I need to know,"
"please,"

Rils starts to turn away with a snort, but seems to notice the hint of pain in her voice
he finally shrugs after a long pause

"He fell... defending Renvanna. I suppose... somewhat literally."
He seems as if he was about to say something more, but simply shrugs and turns away, murmuring half to himself "He was doing his job. Sometimes that's what happens."

"The fuck you say you short kobold looking asshole?"
shoves bushy hair back into a woven scrunchy

Ril turns away from his work again, a brow going up, looking around to see who she's speaking to

pushes finger against his chest
"Just because you're some GREAT adventurer doesn't mean you can disrespect my mentor like that."

Ril looks genuinely puzzled for a moment, but eventually simply shrugs

"Fight me!"

"I meant no disrespect. And no, I'm busy."
tries to get back to his modest effort at crafting

Lunges at him trying to put him in a headlock

"What... are you..?"

((grapple checks rolled))
Ril fends off the headlock attempt, looking at her oddly
"You seem... upset."

breathes heavily mumbling about him being an ape.

"Feh. I suppose I should... what is your name?"

lets out a huff before putting her hands on her hips, "My name is Tasali and one day I'm going to best you!" points a finger at him defiantly.

"Tasali," Ril half nods

"Sywyn called me Fox,"

"Good name. Maybe you will best me one day. But for now,"
"We will continue this another time. Please."
Ril shakes his head and resumes his unremarkable carving

[Ithildur]

My brief, mini tribute to Elaine Cunningham's contributions to the Forgotten Realms and one of her more interesting characters; he can be encountered ingame on the Waterdeep server.


"Ah, you return... to my humble abode," spoke the melodious and silvery smooth tenor voice, flowing with a cadence that reminded one of fine wine being poured into a silver goblet with restrained gusto. "I am once again in the middle of a drink coinciding with your visit. Perhaps you begin to think me an undisciplined drunkard? But do come in, I will not have it said that this drunkard is not a gracious host."

As he shut the door behind him, the Elf known to most as 'Ril' drew back his hood and wondered once more at the figure whom the voice belonged to. A rather mirthless soft chuckle accompanied the words, a sound that set Ril's nerves on edge, yet also filled him with a strange sadness. Endless questions once again flooded his mind, but he knew most of them would go unanswered this day.

"You clearly enjoy the finer things in life," Ril replied, as he glanced about the elegantly furnished chamber that almost gave off a feeling of warmth and hospitality. Though he wasn't sure why, he could not help but think that the contrast with the tall and stark, black granite exterior reminded him in some ways of the estate's owner himself.

"Your assessment isn't wrong; I trust you'll forgive me of such indulgences?" replied the host as he raised a crystal glass towards the visitor, a smirk curling his lips. The smile faded however as Ril caught sight of a glint in his amber colored eyes - keen eyes that hinted at shrewd, even ruthless intelligence not to be trifled with.

"Has the matter been dealt with?" came the query, spoken with a degree of nonchalance that Ril found unsettling. Ril had certainly known others ... like him ... who could be cold, calculating, and even cruel. But the icy, calculating calm of the one who stood before him, and the particular matter that needed to be 'dealt with' to set wrongs to rights in his mind, were beyond the pale of Ril's familiarity, even over the course of his many decades.

How could he be so calm, cool about such a matter?

"I..." Ril began to speak, hesitancy creeping into his voice as it often did when he was of two minds about a thing.

Who are you to talk? Did you not agree to undertake this task? Did someone place a blade's edge at your neck and force you to?

"Tsk. Has a Cath'shee got your tongue?" the melodious voice quipped. "Friendly advice; you must rid yourself of such habits if you're going to make your way successfully in a city like Waterdeep. Take it from me... I know this city better than most."

I was desperate. And... ultimately the coin was needed... for a worthy cause.

"I need to ... discuss some of the... details of this arrangement,"

You're a hypocrite. And about to be a coward.

The amber colored eyes of the host seemed to be studying Ril piercingly - almost like a predator - belying the handsome features and winsome smile.

At that moment, the silver haired Quessir most definitely reminded Ril of a serpent.

[Ithildur]

Crossed blades... beneath a quarter moon above... and a full moon below...

"Ril....the images you described are those associated with Tethrin Veralde, our god of Bladesingers."

Aelenta's voice echoed within the mind of the Elf known as 'Ril'.

Still shaken and reeling from recently awakening, the young Elven spellblade had found the voice and words both reassuring and puzzling at the same time. Aelenta's voice was clear and pleasant, and held the power to sooth body, soul, and spirit, and Ril knew the words confidently sprang from depths of lore that could rival that of many scholars. In the midst of the swirl of the others' questions, tears, and the myriad of bewildering images fresh in his mind, this voice, along with the stinging courtesy from Tasali, had helped him maintain some degree of mental clarity after he came to in the mystical place Earlanni had provided.

Yet the same words, though they helped shed light on the last of the mysterious images he glimpsed just before he awoke, were also deeply puzzling. Tethrin Veralde had always been a distant name for Ril. He had, of course, heard the name before - a name spoken of in reverence by more than one Bladesinger he had met over his decades. Surely he had even seen the symbol of the lesser Power before beholding it in this dream, this nightmare that had overwhelmed him just after he had lost consciousness to the monstrous ambush.

Perhaps he had simply blocked it out, subconsciously, because of all that it represented to him for years ... for decades.


"I will repeat myself, to be perfectly clear,"

Another voice, one from decades before and far less pleasant, came unbidden to the forefront of his memory.

'Ril''s mouth opened to let out a breathless sigh.

"This one is not suited for the path of El'Tael. I will not give assent. He is ill suited to train in the ways of the Bladesinger."


'Ril' cupped his face in his cold hands, eyes closed. His forehead pressed against the smooth bark of the tree he leaned against, as he fought off the implications of a shocking realization that had dawned on him earlier. It was a silent, inner battle of denial, that was being waged inside him even during the meeting between the Elves and Danilo. Here in the silence and solitude, the struggle was beginning to take a decisive turn, and the battle cry that echoed within him, at least for this night... was one of uncertainty and bewilderment rather than victory.

Why...?

[Ithildur]

A few jotted paragraphs, a poor sketch or two, an amateurish map... but it's something. A way to clear and organize my thoughts. Perhaps these will prove useful to others as well...

So began the most recent entries of the one called Ril.

Locations of interest near Renvanna:

- Southern treetop Tower, Dream Tower or Vessel Tower seems a fitting name (located at Treetops 16). Several elves were said to have been directed to this tower by a Leshy’s poem… which began this entire series of events.

Possibly relevant entries from The Diary of Lurien the Watcher:

"A curious tower in the south of the treetops protected by a small tribe of kobolds … bears more investigation... Careful observation of the architecture reveals an origin pre-dating Ilefarn; it is unlike any known from that kingdom. Given arboreal construction, suspect origin from Feywild. There appear to be strong ties to the plane through nearby bogs so I have opened several observation portals to find connections…"

“(the kobolds’) histories indicated some manner of agreement in ancient times to protect the tower contents, a vessel as I understand. Looking through portals, it appears to be the form of an elf, bound in chains and sleeping suspended with many magic wards sealing it…”

“Monomon and I have settled on a plan to strengthen the seals on this vessel by entering a magic hibernation and reinforcing it with our own life force. While I have no illusions we are capable of killing a god I believe we may be able to continue its containment indefinitely and protect the tower from any who would wish to release it.”

This seems to be the location where eventually Aelenta was tragically slain, by the spells of the two Dreamers Lurien and Monomon, upon attempted entry.

[Ithildur]

Locations of interest near Renvanna (continued):

-ruins concealed behind a hidden entrance somewhere in the southwestern treetops. Most seem convinced it was an ancient temple to Arushnee. Unknown whether the place can be found any longer.

- Area designated Treetop 08: Bathhouse located in the north of this area; slimes often seem to seep out from this location. Inside the bath house, there seems to be a passage that connects to the slime cave east of Renvanna's Aerie. Possibly referred to by Lurien's diary entry:
"A small crack has recently formed not far from there and a few drops of slime have seeped out to the dismay of the locals"

- Treetop 09: point of first contact with kobolds. Jeweled door in the mountain side. sounds like it was the center of the Elven settlement area in the past.

"a strange jeweled door in the mountain side located as the center of the settlement area. None know of its purpose nor have entered, but the magic sealing it is exceptionally ancient. Monomon is spending more time investigating it but early indications are that it is sealed to all but those bearing the mark of Elven Royalty."

-Treetop 10: 'kobold platforms' - entire area consists of platforms full of kobolds, first area with Commandos present; numerous Commandos stationed on key platforms. (Exit west to treetops 11, also southwest to 14 where we found a Shrine to Corellon). This area must be traversed one way or another (I propose that it does not need to be a bloodbath every time) in order to make progress westward.

-Treetop 11: Abandoned elven training grounds. Held by kobolds. Rather mysterious locked mountains side door to the north. Ancient bones sometimes found here. (Exits east to 12 or west to 10)

-Treetop 12: Far southwest in this area, I've found what appears to be the remains of an abandoned Elven fortress. This is likely where we need to get to in order to unlock more pieces of the puzzle; indeed, this might be where we can find the physical body of Lurien, as his diary indicates west is where the kobolds were deployed to guard his physical form. We are currently attempting to reach this very location... though we have not finalized what our steps will be should we make such a discovery... possibly risk an attempt to touch Lurien's physical form with the Dream Needle, and thereby enter his dreams...

"The kobolds have been moved to the Western reaches of the treetops and were easily persuaded to modify their arrangement to instead watch over my physical form while I perform the duties of protecting the tower with Monomon.

Sleep beckons eternal and these words become my last..."



- Ruins somewhere in the southwest treetops - full of magical darkness, a Corellon statue and spider themed things, thought to be a Temple of Araushnee - unknown whether still accessible


((treetop map available in Discord Elfchannel))

[Ithildur]

Relevant locations beneath the treetops:

- "The bogs": where apparently a meeting took place with the most unlikely creature to render aid to Elves. Proximity to the Dream Tower?

- Hidden tower located in the Westwood: possibly the "Watcher's Spire" mentioned by Lurien? Visited once when led there by the aforementioned unlikely creature. A more thorough second look might be warranted - it was likely employed as a magical observation post by Lurien to observe the entire area. Seems to be filled by extra planar creatures, likely a place tied to other planes/where the veil is thin allowing them to 'leak' through.

If we can harness it's capabilities to some extent as Lurien did, it may serve as a formidable instrument for defense, gathering intel, knowledge, and so forth.

- Multi tiered tower located SE of Hope mining camp - full of kobolds, rumored to be guarding treasure. Unlikely to be a creation of the kobolds themselves. I managed to confirm that the upstairs of the tower leads to (Treetops 15), i.e. a possible alternate approach to the Treetop areas held by kobolds.

[Ithildur]

Once again I choose to attempt the activity known as sleep, as advised by Heriphone. I am hesitant for many reasons, but ... whatever it takes. If this is what I must attempt, to gain audience with the Baelnorn, then so be it.

Memories come flooding to my mind once more.

"You have the privilege, young one, of becoming part of a great cause... a pure and righteous cleansing,"

The smooth, suave and calm voice spoke so very persuasively.

"In spite of your shortcomings, your rather mediocre grasp of social arts and skills... you will play your part, simply by virtue of who you are, you see."

"You will help ensure that the rightful rulership of Tel Quessir is restored. By any means necessary."

"... and the accursed imposter, pretender... will be dealt with."


************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************


"I remember fighting... no, more like... being torn apart... several large creatures, that leapt out of nowhere. Their teeth..."

I shudder.

"Hideous, large things. I thought I was dying. I was sure... all went black, then .... a dark and green mist...
dark and green mist all about. I saw... Ariella...?"
"She was inside what I thought was a cage,"
"But it wasn't a cage. Acid... I remember acid... the bars were ... enormous teeth..."
A gigantic creature... serpentine. Perhaps even... a dragon?
The acid burned... but... that's... something's not right.
She was calm, still. Ariella was.... calm. Holding the dream blade at her side, inside this place...this thing.
I ran to her, to try and help, she turned...
It wasn't Ariella after all."

I remember Ariella pulling her hand back from my arm in surprise, but not at my words. I could sense... it was something about touching... touching me.

I remember Tasali's voice.

"... What color was the dragon? Green dragons spit acid."

With effort I try to remember.

"Black... almost as if... made of shadow... so very black."

"I... forgive me, but that is all I remember."

"I'm at a loss, I fear. I ... am unsure who the elf maiden was... or how I got here. I do vaguely remember, seeing a crescent moon above me. No, it was... a quarter moon."
"Then I looked down, and saw two crossed blades in my hands... and last of all... a full moon, beneath my hands."

I remember Aelenta's words once more, and my chest rises - a needless, breathless movement born purely from habit, a memory, nay a mockery of a sigh.

"Ril....the images you described are those associated with Tehrin Veralde..."