Kuldahar

Aerihykloarara makes good time over the tundra and then the foothills of the Spine of the World, even burdened with six riders. Though she must still bear some exhaustion from her earlier flights, she seems determined to arrive in Kuldahar before dawn.

Despite the North's frozen winds, the companions find the rhythmic beat of dragon wings soothing enough that they are able to find some rest during the flight.

They are too high in the night sky to see the Kuldahar Pass as they fly over it, or surely Alalla and Ug would be reminded of the doomed Easthaven expedition... Hrothgar, Accalia, and the rest of the brave men and women who first responded to Halla's call for aid on the behalf of Kuldahar. And perhaps they would have remembered Jhonen, the wayward fisherman who only wanted to help his friends on their quest.

They feel the Great Oak's warm breeze before they see it - a comforting, life-kindling breath. Aerihykloarara lands near the standing stones in front of Arundel's cottage. While the companions climb down, the dragon hums contentedly and rests her scaled face on one of the massive roots. "We silvers prefer the cold, usually. But this Tree... I think I'll rest here for a minute or two..."

A light turns on in Arundel's cottage, and a moment later the door opens to reveal Halla. She walks up to the group with a smile - but that quickly slips as her eyes search for Zenithral. "Zenithral? Where is he?" Her face goes impassive as she steels herself for the news.

"Ah, that lucky guy, I am jealous of him. He's currently stuck on a different plane in the bedchamber of a very pretty drow. I'm certain he's enjoying the rest, relaxation, and company. He's had a few rough days, and deserves it."

"Enough, Vincent," Alalla snarls. Her eyes shine with fire. "If Pomab made that place he's probably stuck forever, and if he didn't it might be worse!"

Hearing herself, Alalla turns away with shame as the fire in her eyes fades. "We have no idea what's happening to him there, or if we'll ever see him again." Her voice is quiet and face emotionless. "Let's not make light of it."

Halla's gaze steels, and for a moment her eyes seem to shine a feral yellow as she looks Vincent over. Behind her in the doorway, two small shadows peer out into the night with shining eyes. "Tell me all that has happened since last we met."

Alalla bites off a curse as she sees the twins. "Maybe right here is not the best place. The others have things to attend to before we move on to Dorns Deep. Why don't you and I go inside to talk, and we let the others go?"

Halla turns to glance behind her at Mona and Lance. "Perhaps that would be best. But remind me, before you all leave, that Kuldahar has some gifts for its heroes."

She goes into the cottage, collecting the cambion twins with kind hands on their shoulders. They seem taller than last the party saw them, though that was only several days ago.

"Do what you need to to prepare," Al says, turning to the group. "We'll head out again in a few hours. I'll find you when it's time." She then follows Halla inside.

Word of the companions' arrival in Kuldahar spreads quickly despite the early hour. The first villager to arrive and give their greetings is the blacksmith, Conlan.

The man approaches Ras with a sack that bulges in places with ridges lines. He squats down in front of the gnome. "We decided that the smallest of our town's heroes shouldn't be the most vulnerable. So while you lot were out adventuring, Mirek and some of the men went back to where you rescued my boy Sheemish. Didn't think they'd return, but apparently they're tougher than they look. They brought me back some materials, and I got to work."

He grunts and opens the sack, revealing a suit of armor made of dark scales. "Made from the hide of that black dragon - Bilewing, was it? Should keep our little friend safe." The blacksmith hesitates as he hands the sack over. "Halla said that you lot make your own decisions. We wanted this to be for Ras, but if you'd prefer someone else to wear it, I can make some adjustments before you leave, so it fits the wearer better."

Realizing he's strung together more words in the last minute than he likely has in a week, Conlan backs away.

Arundel's - Halla's - cottage looks much the same as when Alalla saw it last, but there are a few notable differences. For one, there are plants growing in the rooms, there do not seem to be any animals about. There are also some wooden figurines scattered on the floor - animals, mostly. As with many of the furnishings in the place, these figurines look to have been grown rather than carved. Could they be toys for the twins?

The last physical difference in the cottage is a blackened scorch mark along one wall. It looks a small though several plants have been moved to cover it up, however.

The cambion themselves look older than Alalla remembers. They seem to be putting on some healthy weight since leaving the Hand. Mona sits perched on the wooden table eating a scrap of venison, while Lance sits under the table with a book on his lap. His expression is solemn as he turns from page to page.

"I have not taught him to read." Halla's eyes look over the cambion boy. "'Tis strange, but he appears to enjoy looking through the books all the same. He still does not talk much, however, except to ask about Zenithral."

Halla turns to Alalla. "What has happened?"

"Maybe his mother taught him?" Alalla ventures.

She sighs and sits at the table. "What hasn't happened? But you're asking about Zenithral, not Targos or the rest of us." Alalla hesitates, looking at the twins. Should they be talking about this in front of them? "After defeating one of Poquelin's lackeys, we found a door to a pocket dimension," she begins. There are enough secrets. "There was a woman trapped in there and who knows what else that could be used to our advantage, but we weren't sure when the door would close. I told everyone to leave it alone, but Erevain wanted to try and save the woman. He activated a trap that turned him to stone, so I had to fish him out so he wasn't trapped in there. I activated a trap on the outside of the door that sent me to sleep, so I didn't see what happened to Zenithral.

The others say he tried to get something from inside, but the spell sent him to sleep too, and he fell through the doorway. Then it started to close, and the woman inside dragged him through the rest of the way." Alalla shakes her head. "Good thing, or we'd have just half of him to remember him by, but if the demiplane belonged to the man we killed... I don't think it's possible to open it up again."

Alalla looks at the three faces in the room and grunts with irritation. "I'm sorry. Erevain is always telling me to be more hopeful. Zenithral is resourceful, and has Ilmater on his side. And he'd never abandon Harmony and Valiance." She spreads her hands. "But we go to face the devil in his lair, now. We don't have time to try and fish him out of there. Not yet. He's on his own." Al's fingers worry over the small wooden fish in her hair.

Halla listens with wide eyes that are too still. When Alalla finishes, the woman's hands flex in a way that human limbs should not. Somehow, Alalla realizes that if Halla currently were in a feline form, her claws would be bare and ready to mangle. The druid's frustration does not seem to include Alalla herself, however.

"Thrice-cursed arcane spells! 'Tis rare that a druid learn such extraplanar magic, and so I cannot help him myself." She reaches out to grip her staff tightly. "He will be well. He is smart and resourceful, too much at times."

Halla turns her attention back to Alalla. "But he is not my only friend who has seen trouble. You are not yourself, Alalla. Did Ras construct a new body for you, as he did for Nessa? No. No, there are still parts of you that remain the same." She sniffs the air. "You smell different, almost like..." Her eyes dart to the table and the two cambion children, and her eyes widen further.

"I think I need to hear the whole story."

Alalla passes a hand over her face- her new face- again, and her tongue traces her small canine teeth. The awful pit of wrongness in her stomach and the stress of Targos and Zenithral and the party's destination make her shoulders shake and tears form. Usually she would be more angry than anything, but without its burning the sadness feels heavier than usual.

"The whole story could take a while. But no, I'm not myself," Alalla confirms, rubbing her eyes with a grunt. She will not cry in front of the children. "The whole attack on Targos was an attempt to get me to take over his orc armies. To convince me that he is the best alternative to Gruumsh, and that I should tell all the other orcs so.

Pressuring me with an army against my home town didn't work so he tried... subtler plans. He was more successful there. He ripped my orcish heritage away, and took Erevain's soul for the pleasure," Al murmurs. "But the hole in my soul didn't stay empty. I don't know if he filled it with a piece of himself, or power from his mistress. The evidence is conflicting." She breathes deeply and her eyes fill with fire and flaming wings spread behind her. Alalla inclines her head and parts her hair so that Halla can see her charred horn buds. "I'm not sure if it was intentional or not, but I can't see the opportunity slipping by him." She leans back in her chair. Her voice is detached and mildly irritated, but her panic is rising. "Also, I am now a servant of Torm- divine power and everything- and I have a hundred more orcs under my banner. They call me Cagebreaker, even though I feel more chained than ever."

"I'm not myself, Halla. But I'm not sure who in the Hells I am." Alalla winces at her choice of words, then shakes her head. Enough foolishness. "But it doesn't matter. I've got work to do."

Halla watches her closely while the tale is told, then reaches out to touch the stubs of horn on the Alalla's head. "I cannot decide which is more surprising - that you are planetouched, or that you have become a divine servant of some god." She winces. "My opinions on the gods have changed somewhat, at least so far as a select few are concerned. But..." The druid sighs. "Perhaps this Torm deity wishes the archdevil gone as much as we do. Any help is welcome."

Alalla flinches as Halla reaches out, but stills herself and allows her to touch her head. "'Planetouched' sounds like a euphemism," she grumbles. "As for Torm, he is a god of law and duty, and how those things protect people. Those are all things I've always believed in. I was a prideful fool to think I was strong enough to uphold them on my own, and I paid for it." She gestures to her head, then fixes her hair so a sheet of dreadlocks covers her charred horns once more. "So, to the gods I go. Thankfully, I suppose, Torm finds 'planetouched' Alalla better than orcish Alalla. Whatever his motives are for supporting me, though, he stands for law and justice, to the benefit of the people. I can live with that. I have to."

Halla frowns. "'Tis not my place - nor my inclination - to claim to understand the gods. But what did you know of Torm before Belhifet wrought this change in you? Can you say for certain that Torm would not have chosen you eventually?" She sighs and rubs her temples. "Now look at me, making excuses for the gods. Zenithral would be so pleased to see me now..."

She rubs her eyes and looks at the twins. "They miss him."

Alalla rubs her temples. "I guess you're right. I told you once I knew the value of myself and my blade. That wasn't true. I knew only the value of my blade. I was starting to like myself better, but it seems that my feeling of fraudulence is chronic."

She looks at the twins. They are so incredibly different from Zenithral, but she can see him in their faces even so. "We all miss him. Whatever it says about me, he was my first true friend. Part of what drew me to Torm is that he is supposed to work closely with Ilmater."

Alalla clenches a fist. "Zenithral with do everything he can to make it back. Until he does- and after, really- I'll help you all how I can. We go into the demon's lair today, but do you need coin? Is there anything I can take care of for you in the next couple hours?"

Halla lets a small sigh escape. "And I once told you 'tis no time to raise a family." A light smile touches her lips as she watches the twins. "And now look at me."

The smile fades. "But this is only temporary, I suppose. I can protect them, but I should not be the one to raise them. I must be about my duties, and I hesitate to leave them alone for long." She gestures at the door. "With your group's exploits against the evils in the North there has been talk in town of fiends and their plots. I do not think they would take out their anger on children, but to be safe I have not made their presence known in Kuldahar."

The druid taps on the wood of the table. "As best I can arrange, I have sent for Zenithral's mother, Saki, to join us here. We will see if she comes."

The woman lets out another sigh, this one considerably more exasperated. "Perhaps you can help me. I am sure that Zenithral will find his way free of whatever has befallen him. But when he does... what then?" Only rarely has Halla shown her feelings openly, but now Alalla sees the pain in her eyes. "He... Does he... Do you think... By the Nine, nevermind!"

She stands. "If you are going to the devil's lair then there may be some aid I can give you. That Kuldahar can give you."

She moves to a a shelf, where a small plant grows straight from the wood, and plucks a pair of silver acorns from it. When she does so, the plant wilts.

The druid turns back to Alalla and offers her the acorns. "These are for Ug. 'Tis his way to tire himself out, and these will grant him additional vitality when cooked and eaten. They have another use, as well. Should you need it, place one on the ground and speak a prayer to Silvanus, and he will cause it to grow instantly into a strong oak tree." She shrugs. "Each can only be used for one or the other, however. Perhaps you should hold onto them for him, so that he does not eat them too soon."

"Thank you." Alalla tucks the acorns away. "Ug understands food better than I do. I'm sure he'll make good use of them."

She smirks at the druid. "Does he love you the way you love him? Is that what you meant to ask?"