Aelistae smiled and shook her head. The human male had mistaken her for a surface elf, and to her mind there was no greater compliment he could have paid her.

“Not quite,” she mouthed quietly to herself, before turning to address Talus. “There’s a saying among the drow: ‘Gotfrer dosst killian, harventh tir dosst rah. Gotfrer dosst faern, harventh tir dosst karliik.’ - ‘Forget your sword, cut off your hand. Forget your wizard, cut off your head.’ I don’t think I ever understood it until now.”

Aelistae nodded appreciatively at Talus, and stepped closer to the newcomer so he could see her more clearly.

“It’s an honour to meet you Dylan Geiling. My mother named me Aelistae D’Vrann. May the Moon smile on our meeting.”

The drow priestess took a few steps more, so that her true heritage was in no more doubt, and closed her hand around the human’s sword. “Not quite an elf,” she added with a smile.

Out sprinting the swarming slithering scaly serpents successfully, Silvara slows down to take stock of her situation. Actually, they just stopped suddenly and slithered away but she could still hear the sound of the sliding across the stone floors. Silvara has had multiple bites as had Zorana. She felt the sting of them from almost every inch of her exposed flesh.

What surprised her as she was assessing her current condition was the brush of coolness against her face yet there was no breeze in this place. She had a hunch that this was something else. This time it brushed through her hair and across her cheek, though there is no tangible breeze in this hallway. Further ahead on the right, the door creaks, and shifts open but an inch, and a cool waft of air passes the women in that direction.

“Zora, did you just feel something cool touching you like it did before when we were in here?”

Silvara has never suffered from flights of fantasy, daydreams yes, but not actually physical sensations. Her life had been rather grounded in the practical and the real but she was not going to ignore this second occurrence of the cool touch and the sense of something or someone moving by. She turned in the direction of the door that opened down the hallway.

“We are coming,” she calls out and beings moving towards that just opened door.

“Zorana, I say we go through that door.”

As she walks she treats the worse of her bites, with salve and bandages.

When she gets to the door that opened she put the first aid supplies away takes up her sword in her right hand and the torch in her left.

"Time for careful attention," Silvara states and she opens the door wider. to look inside. the glow of the torch illuminates sound of what lies beyond.

Dylan stepped forward, offering his sword. The elf whispered a few more words to the man next to her then stepped out of the half-shadows into the full moon light. The traveller's pulse tripped and sped off as the woman's soft, sable hand closed over his sword. His arm jerked involuntarily, just slightly, as he looked up into her eyes.

“Not quite an elf,” she said with a smile.
"A-a," the newcommer began, apparantly having lost his low-tenor voice. I'm not dead yet, his mind processed at a lesser pace. The silver brooch of the drow woman's cloak bore the image of a long-haired dancing drow woman, before the grace of the full moon. The name of a deity floated into his mind, he heard of this goddess in relation to tales of benevolent dark elves. Eilistraee, Lady of the Dance.

"Forgive me Aelistae," Dylan said, finding his voice again. He released grip on his sword, "the reputation of your race preceeds you." Then, glancing over to the smouldering fire, near where lay a strange, small white creature appearing much like a gnome, he asked, "So, what's cooking?"

Glancing over to the smoldering fire, near where lay a strange, small white creature appearing much like a gnome, Dylan asked, "So, what's cooking?"
Talus glanced momentarily at the remains of the bonfire, "Werewolf." he said quite plainly. "And that isn't a cooking fire, it's a funeral pyre. Many lives ended in this clearing..." The battle began to replay in his mind, the image of a wolf exiting Sheva's tent kept taking center stage in the reenactment. His eyes were pulled down to his own leg and, even though the wounds had been magically healed, his imagination supplied a wolf to again rend his leg.

"More lives might still be undone by tonight's events." Talus said to no one in particular while he pushed the bloody images away. Then to the group, "I don't think I'll be able to sleep here tonight. We could walk the horses to give them a break, but I'd like to put at least little distance between us and this clearing if you all don't mind."

"Werewolf." he said quite plainly. "And that isn't a cooking fire, it's a funeral pyre. Many lives ended in this clearing..."
"Oh, I'm sorry," Dylan replied. Usually his light-hearted humour was better placed than that. He strode over to the pyre, by where the gnome lay. Dylan realized that the white one was looking at him. "I don't mean to be rude," he began, "but what excatly are you? I've never even come across stories of beings such as yourself."

As the man spoke of going on further, Dylan turned his head briefly, "I've been walking all day, I can handle another short stroll, but this guy here looks pretty beat, he would be riding in his sleep."

"Now Aelistae, why don't you introduce my to all your friends here?"

Suddenly he stopped himself short. "I just thought of something- were any of you bit by the werewolves? There's a curse attached to that you know."

“Not all drow are in thrall to the Spider Queen,” Aelistae replied quietly. Although, in truth, she did not think that Dylan needed to hear it. His eyes did not contain the same fear and anger that other humans displayed when first noticing the colour of her skin.

The human strode past him, as Talus explained the purpose the fires had served, and dredged up, once more, sad feelings of loss.

“We can’t go much further. I know little about them, but I can see that the horses need rest. And…we should honour the place where Sheva fell with song before we leave.”

Aelistae tested the weight of Dylan’s sword, before offering it back to him. “I think if you meant us ill, you wouldn’t have given it up in the first place. As to who we are – the male who spoke to you is Talus, the armoured woman Artanis, and the other Linnix. The gnome is Xaris and the last human Bartholomew.”

“And yes we have all been bitten, and may all be cursed. We hope to journey to a shrine so that we may be cured but…well in case we don’t make it, it’d be well for you to put as much distance between us and you as you can.”

“Out sprinting the swarming slithering scaly serpents successfully, Silvara slows down to take stock of her situation. Actually, they just stopped suddenly and slithered away but she could still hear the sound of the sliding across the stone floors. Silvara has had multiple bites as had Zorana. She felt the sting of them from almost every inch of her exposed flesh.
Smarting from the snake bites Zora races along side of Silvara until the snakes no longer followed. It was as she thought the serpents were bound to the area in front of the Library. As much as it rankled having to run, she was not foolish. As one of her instructors at the Temple had pointed out, prideful Paladins were quick to perish.

What surprised Silvara as she was assessing her current condition was the brush of coolness against her face yet there was no breeze in this place. She had a hunch that this was something else. This time it brushed through her hair and across her cheek, though there is no tangible breeze in this hallway. Further ahead on the right, the door creaks, and shifts open but an inch, and a cool waft of air passes the women in that direction.

“Zora, did you just feel something cool touching you like it did before when we were in here?”
Zora harkens back to the riddle that the Halfling had recited to them. “Yes, and before we go further I want to use my healing wand to take care of our injuries.” Zora opens her belt pouch, removes the wand, and uses a charge on Silvara and one on herself.

Silvara has never suffered from flights of fantasy, daydreams yes, but not actually physical sensations. Her life had been rather grounded in the practical and the real but she was not going to ignore this second occurrence of the cool touch and the sense of something or someone moving by. She turned in the direction of the door that opened down the hallway.

“We are coming,” she calls out and beings moving towards that just opened door. “Zorana, I say we go through that door.”
Zora nods, sword and shield at ready. I do believe that we still need to be careful, I am not sure if the cool presence is good or evil.

When she gets to the door that opened she takes up her sword in her right hand and the torch in her left.

"Time for careful attention," Silvara states and she opens the door wider to look inside. The glow of the torch illuminates some of what lies beyond.
Zora does a visual sweep of the area behind them then looks into the room the Silvara has put the torch into, it light flickering off the floor. She has to leave it to Silvara to do her job, it was what she did. Time would come when Zora would need to prove her mettle.

“And yes we have all been bitten, and may all be cursed. We hope to journey to a shrine so that we may be cured but…well in case we don’t make it, it’d be well for you to put as much distance between us and you as you can.”
Dylan accepts his sword back with a look of concern over his countenance. "All of you have been bitten? That's pretty harsh. But as it is, I think journeying with you may leave me in for a bit of luck, for from the sounds of it, I intend to make for the same shrine. Besides, the disease should take a little while to incubate, and the shrine is not that far off on horseback." The bard seemed to consider an idea, then dug his hand into his pouch and drew out a potion.

"I was saving this in the case a sickness came along and took my voice, which would leave my performances in peril, but I think your need is greater. Alas, I only have a single drink, so you should decide amongst yourselves who is most likely to have been affected by the curse."

(After plans for camp are decided, I intend to cast Healthful Rest on the 4 most injured members of this group.

"Don't waste you wand on my I have a belt of healing and can take care of my wounds myself. but thanks for offering.'

Silvara uses one charge of her belt to heal herself. The nice thing about it is that it will recharger itself and be full again tomorrow. IT was one of the best investments she had made before setting out adventuring.

Silvara looks into the room to see what she can from in the area lite by the torch.

Aelistae eyes fell to the small vial that Dylan held aloft. If she was like most other drow she would have taken the small bottle and have drunk its contents without a second thought. But she was not. Though she longed to drink the potion and ensure that she would never become a bestial werewolf, she knew that if she took the potion when others needed it, she would already be a beast.

“Give the potion to Bartholomew. If he falls his children will lose their father, and his partner her consort. Give it to him so, if the worst comes, one of us will be saved.”

“Now,” she continued with a small cough, “let us share some food, and maybe a song or two.”

Linnix nods, "And maybe even a dance or two!" She says enthusiastically.

Turning to the others, Linnix adds, "Well, I know this might seem out of place, but we should try to enjoy ourselves tonight." She says, smiling, "After all, that is what Sheva and Elesia would have wanted, surely?"

Besides, Linnix finishes silently, to herself, We should enjoy what time we have tonight, especially if it is all we have.

“A linath lu' killian,” Aelistae muttered reverently after Linnix had spoken. “Every hour it seems you become more like a Dark Lady.”

“We will sing to remember Sheva, and for Elesia…” Aelistae paused as she struggled to find the words. “We will make the vow to meet her again.”

The drow priestess ran a weary hand through the silvery bangs of her hair, before holding out her hand to Linnix. “Come let us start.”


[OOC: The drow literally means 'By Song and Sword', but has the same purpose for Aelistae as 'Amen' might.]

A Dark Lady? Linnix thinks, her eyes closed as she smiles, yes, now I am.
She reaches her hand forward, and more words come to her mind, from memories before. It was only recently, yet it feels so long ago...

L'Alure, L'Drathir, L'Killian – The Dance, The Moon, The Sword
It is called l’assajre among my kind. To see and feel moments of our past so vividly that we believe we are there.
There is nothing you can give me that will repay the pain we have suffered. You cannot buy back the time stolen from us with gold or baubles, only by taking your life will we gain back but a portion of all that was robbed of us!
How can you be so cold, Linnix? I know you had your differences with Kas, but she and Loriel were both part of this group. And while you may not have been close to either of them, I would have hoped you would have enough of a heart, and simple fellow-being compassion enough to at least feel something at the needlessness of their deaths!
I... don't belong here. A selfish person in the midst of an unselfish group...
It was gone. She was gone.
Yes... moments of regret, moments of happiness, moments of sorrow, and moments of anger... Fragments of Agony, Sorrow, Hatred and Despair. Crystals of Hope, Happiness, Healing, and even Love.

With her hand closing around Aelistae's, Linnix opens her eyes, and lets go of the Fragments. She has changed, and will continue to now. In the shadows beneath the moon, she will follow the light of it, just as her sisters do.

"A linath lu' killian." Linnix murmurs, nodding. It isn't simply repeating the words, for she finds that she begins to understand them as well. It isn't perfectly clear, and she doesn't know the entire meaning, but that will come, given time. In using these words, it feels... right, even though she has never used the language before.

“We will sing to remember Sheva, and for Elesia…”
A memory flitted across his mind as Talus watched the two women begin to dance.
All things must pass… It was a line from a poem that he’d… no, it was from a song. He could only remember the ending, barely even that much, and he stared off past the dancers and into the trees trying to recall the lyrics.

“All things must pass. None of Life’s strings can last. So I must be on my way and face another day.” The memory was too faded. The bits of music he could remember didn’t fit, so he spoke the last few lines rather than force them into a mismatched rhythm.

“Darkness only stays at nighttime, in the morning it will fade away. Daylight is good at arriving at the right time. It’s not always going to be this grey. All things must pass. All things must pass away.”

Aelistae’s violet eyes widened in surprise as Linnix carefully repeated the phrase she herself had just spoken in the language of the dark elves. Her pronounciation was not perfect, but then the language had evolved to be difficult for outsiders to speak and comprehend. What surprised and impressed Aelistae was the sincerity that lay behind those words. It was as if she had always uttered those words in her mind, but had only now, for the first time, finally given them voice.

‘I pray we live long enough, so that I may teach her your language. So that I may take her to one of your hidden places, and show her the Dance as it is on the High Hunt.’
Her dark, sable hand squeezed Linnix’s in quiet appreciation. And then the dancing began….