Dorn's Deep

After a night's rest, magic and might bring the companions back to health. It still shocked Zenithral how such grievous wounds could be completely eliminated practically overnight. That would have been a nice trick to have while back in Bryn Shander, he thinks to himself.

Ioun stone circling around his head, Zenithral silently asks Alalla with a message to opens her senses as they begin discussing, paranoid that the imp might be around. Once he's satisfied, he continues.He nods as they continue to discuss their next move. "I agree. We should return to Kuldahar. But after that...Do we fulfil her request, though, or try to take her out? I hate to betray her trust...She's been rather kind to us...as far as realm-conquering villains go that is. She'll probably keep the twins locked away indefinitely, though...unless they grow powerful enough to challenge Belfiet, but that seems unlikely."

Alalla snorts. "She's been kind to you. If you weren't here I don't doubt we'd be as dead as Malavon right now. Or suffering her best efforts." She continues polishing her glaive with a frown. "We're at war, Zenithral, and she's the enemy. Belhifet's right hand. I'm not concerned for her feelings, or her trust." She places the golden polearm down and draws her sword. "As for the twins, I'll not rip them from Halla's arms to hand them back to someone who will lock them up somewhere alone. I believe Ilmadia knows how to hide them best, but that's a poor goal." Her concentrated frown turns to an angry scowl. "The twins will be safer with Belhifet back in Avernus. I aim to put him there."

Under the guise of heading out early in the morning to gather herbs and hunt for small game, Reòthadh attempts to process the world and everything that has happened recently. The betrayal of an ally, the loss of kin, frozen in his prime, only to be revived to find his ancestral home ravaged by the hands of evil. What can one fool of a dwerf do?
The silence of the land brings no solace to him as he returns with his bounty of food. Upon seeing his companions and their haggard, but revitalized faces, after a much needed rest, the elderly dwarf settles in to join the conversation of what to pursue next.

"To betray a loved one has its costs. A dwerf knows not the mother nor her motives; a dangerous adversary with a capricious temperament, she has caused much suffering here. If death is not the answer what more can be done? Mayhaps the magic of the Lac Dinneshere could reveal an alternative path?"

Erevain's face falls at Reòthadh's pronouncement of the cost of betrayal. The elf sucks in a breath, then forces himself to relax. He busies himself with adjusting the straps of his shield, and then tosses a question Reòthadh's way. "What is this lake magic you speak of, dwarf? I spent a fair amount of time looking over Lac Dinneshere's lapping waters and I saw no sign of magic there." His eyes flick towards Alalla, and the tension leaves him as a warm smile crosses his face. "Though I do remember a time or two that the experience was enchanting..."

Gesturing at himself, Reòthadh shrugs at the elf’s inquiry.

"Of this magic a dwerf knows not, but that he stands today breathing and living after a lifetime trapped there. Mayhaps the North herself protected this one, but surely some power must exist in that place."

Zenithral inhales sharply, realizing the truth to Alalla's words. "Of course...I'll do my best to set aside my personal feelings."

"Lac Dinneshere?" Zenithral asks Reothadh. "That's where our quest practically began. I saw the ghost of an elven woman come out. of it, singing to find a descendant that lived there in Easthaven, Jhnonen. Did I really never mention that to you, Erevain?" He closes his eyes taps his head, trying to think. "And a vision. A being with brilliant burning wings falling into the lake...before being consumed. Or something like that...You know, I should really keep a journal of these things...I told you about that one, right Alalla? "

Alalla rolls her eyes dramatically. "I broke your ribs, you fool elf," she sighs, but the hand she puts on Erevain's knee is affectionate.

Her eyes turn to Zenithral quickly. "Burning wings?" Her own seem to shimmer in the air for the briefest moment. "Was it a woman?" Her fingers tap quickly on Erevain's knee. "If it was Zariel, that would make a whole lot of sense. She didn't seem to be a devil. Not really. But a fallen angel would hate the gods as much as her, I'm sure. She fell into Lac Dinneshere?" She chews her lip for a minute, then throws up her hands. "Gah! It's too much. Let's discuss this more in Kuldahar. Somewhere warm to sit and food to eat and the look on Halla's face when we bring you to her door ought to give us the feeling of victory enough to be able to make further plans well."

Al stands with a stretch. "I'll ask Ras if he's ready to go. We'd best find those Ilmatari before we're off, too" She takes a couple steps away before she hesitates, then returns. "I don't care for Ilmadia's feelings," she says to Zenithral in elvish, "but... I do care for yours. Even if I'm--" she searches for a word "--rocky. I protect the North first, but if there's a way to stop her threat and not kill her, talk to me." Alalla nods awkwardly and hurries off before Zenithral can reply.

Erevain lets out a wistful sigh and nods at the memory. "And look how far we have come, sharuhk!"

The elf turns to Zenithral. "Yes, I remember now that you mentioned her. And Maverick spoke of odd goings-on in there when last we saw him. Perhaps there is something that may help us after all."