The Triad

"Yes, well. If you are sure..." Corellon shrugs. Then he looks around furtively, though it seems everyone else is occupied by the feast and dancing. He snaps his fingers and a tuning fork appears in his hand. It's in the shape of an ornate black spider, with the last two legs curving back to form the fork. From the craftwork, it looks as though the spider is ready to sink its fangs into any who holds it by the handle.

"Remember: if Sehanine asks, you didn't get this from me. Not that I've ever used it, of course. But they say your first love is the hardest to get over." Corellon chuckles. "As it's never been used, I don't quite know what's on the other side. It could be her bedroom, or it could be a bottomless pit. Let me know sometime, would you?"

With that, the God of the Elves becomes wind once again, sending a spray of leaves in to join the dancing eladrin.

Alaska lunges forward to catch the fork before it hits the ground. Catching it safely, she turns and presents it to Zenithral with a triumphant expression.

"Halla, Erevain! Aribeth, Fenthick! Time to go!"

Halla arrives a minute later with Erevain, Aribeth, and Fenthick in tow - almost literally, for the elves and half-elf keep gazing longingly over their shoulders towards the frolicking eladrin.

"Elves and their gods... Gods and their elves! At least my husband has the sense not to get carried away by all this... whatever it is." The druid gives Zenithral a narrow-eyed glance, as though daring him to prove otherwise.

"Well? Let's have the cursed fork." She takes the tuning fork and examines it. "It probably is cursed. But more than this place, I doubt it!" She pauses. "Actually, I kind of like the spider... Well. Gather round, quickly! 'Tis time to go."

Fenthick sighs and stands closer to Halla. Then he catches sight of the tuning fork. "Tyr protect us..."

Aribeth shakes her head to clear it, then takes a deep breath. She checks her swords, then meets Alalla's eyes. A curt nod. The group could very well be fighting for their lives within the minute, and she would put aside whatever differences they had between them.

Erevain gives the mountains one last look, then closes his eyes. His hand finds Alalla's, and he leans close to whisper, "I have never needed Arvandor, and I do not want it now. You and Aiwë are my greatest adventure."

He opens his eyes suddenly. "Ah! I have an idea." He speaks an arcane word and taps his armor. Immediately the armor turns black and grows web-like decorations. There are other changes too. His features all remain the same, remain Erevain, but the coloration is all wrong. His skin has darkened to ebony and his hair is stark white.

He looks just like a drow.

He shrugs sheepishly. "Just in case. It won't fool Lolth, but it might buy us precious seconds depending on who we find on the other side."

Ilvisar, sipping nectar quietly to one side, nearly spits a mouthful over the party. "Never has anyone dared to even take the form of a drow here in Arvandor!" He puts a hand to his brow and sighs wearily. "Perhaps you had all better just go..."

Halla smirks. "About that. Begone, priest."

She begins casting her spell of planar travel. Her magic is always reminiscent of nature and its beauty, but here in Arvandor it seems even greater. Indeed, dawn's first light creeps over the mountains just as she reaches the crescendo of her spell. She strikes the tuning fork on a nearby statue.

A sour, discordant note fills the air. More than an ugly sound, it's heavy with menace. Malice. Deep-rooted enmity.

Halla's eyes seek out Zenithral's, and he finds in her eyes the one emotion she would never admit to: fear.

The six companions and their trusty flumph vanish...

"Goodbye, Ilvisar," Alalla says, laughing gently both with relief to be leaving and at his reaction to Erevain's change. "Thanks for the hospitality. If I ever come back, perhaps we'll spar then." She is unable to withhold giving the priest a tusked grin as they vanish.

Alalla groans as she stands. "Are you sure you don't want Arvandor?" she asks Erevain drily, but her eyes show gratitude for his words as she helps pick the 'drow' off the ground.

HP: 174/174

"Elves and their gods... Gods and their elves! At least my husband has the sense not to get carried away by all this... whatever it is."

A spike of shame runs down Zenithral's neck and into his chest. Without Alalla and his loyal familiar, he would have been right along with them...and part of him still wanted to be. He was never truly so disciplined...but even after all this time?

"Actually, I kind of like the spider..."

A small warmth returns to Zenithral, drawing a chuckle from him. There's a reason they were together, and not alone. Strengths of one were weaknesses of another. Every rank had it's purpose. The thought of nearly getting lost in revelry still haunted him...but not as much as the sights to come.

...

"Hrrrgh," Zenithral groans, rolling over. "You'd think I'd be used to---urggh---flying..." He shakily gets to his feet and examines the party, trying to ignore the maddening shapes, colors, and...ideas that seemed to permeate the air.

HP: 118/118

Alalla turns and looks around as she adjusts her plate. "I saw the Abyss from the other side of the Styx, once... I hoped to never see it again..." She grimaces lightly. "Still. More comfortable than Arvandor!"

She gives Zenithral a wry smile. "I am sorry you didn't get to try that bow. Maybe now that we know where the portal is you can visit another time, and I'll come fetch you when your time is up."

Erevain gets to his feet. "That was... awful. But at least we are one planar step closer to fulfilling our quest." He seems none the worse for wear.

Aribeth sits up, then scrambles to her feet and draws her swords. Seeing no immediate threat, she turns to Fenthick, who hasn't moved. "Fenthick, love. Wake up, we're here! Fenthick?" Panic starts to creep into her voice.

Fenthick rests in the red-black dirt, eyes wide open and staring. He doesn't move, even prodded by Aribeth, but he does seem to be breathing.

A scream splits the air as Halla's eyes open. "No! Nooooo!" Tripping over her own feet she manages to stand, but leaves her staff abandoned in the dirt. She looks at Zenithral, but can't seem to see him through her sobs.