The Triad

"The Oak Father himself must understand the imbalance the orc people suffer." Torm’s helmet tilts. "Of course, Silvanus would abhor a metal tuning fork. It will likely take you to his realm, which is near enough to where you must go. As for how you will return... you can have Thaistius' key."

Thaistius grunts once more, this time in shock. "Of course, Loyal Fury!" He grudgingly produces a thin metal rod with two prongs and presents it to Halla. After she accepts it, the angel stiffly steps back into place.

Torm nods in approval. "And now I have preparations to make. Farewell."

He lifts his shining sword from the ground and vanishes.

Alalla salutes as Torm departs, then returns to staring dazedly at Halla's staff. "Even Silvanus... What is happening?" She shakes her head and approaches Aribeth and Fenthick, arm outstretched.

"Torm announced us, I know, but I'll introduce myself anyway and shed some titles. I'm Alalla Blacksheaf. You can call me Al." She gestures at her friends. "We're from Icewind Dale, in and around Kuldahar for the most part, now. Halla and I were born and raised in the ice, but the boys are transplants. And you're from Waterdeep? I've visited once, briefly, on our honeymoon," she smiles at Erevain, "and I think I saw a sand's grain of what there is to see. "

With Torm gone, Aribeth's expression darkens. She meets Alalla's eyes briefly, but ignores her extended hand. "Daughter of Gruumsh? What kind of a title is that? I hear this whole endeavor was your idea. Since when has 'saving orcs' been anyone's priority, or worth anyone's time?"

Erevain raises an eyebrow, then his eyes flick to Fenthick, who winces. He opens his mouth to speak. "Perhaps-"

"What did you just say." Halla's voice is low and full of menace, with more than a hint of bestial growl at the end. She takes a threatening step towards Aribeth. "Alalla has proven her worth a hundred times over."

Zenithral holds his hands up defensively, opens his mouth, then shuts it. He then folds his arms, looks at Alalla, and nods quickly a few times.

...

Zenithral places a hand on Halla's shoulder then clears his throat and steps towards Aribeth. "She's right. 'Tis a title Alalla has forged into one of great worth and honor."

He stretches out his hand and conjures a small illusion of two elves, one the parent of the other. "Should the crimes of one doom the eternities of those who had no part?" He flicks his wrist and the two elves change into the forms of Gruumsh and Alalla, with orcs like Keggruk behind her. "Should they not be given at least a chance for something more, rather than guaranteed damnation?"

Alalla freezes, then lowers her hand. "Easy, Halla. Thank you, Zenithral. It's fine," she says, breathing away her own rising anger. Aribeth's reaction wasn't uncommon but she was hardly used to it. Still, it is made less difficult by the warmth in her heart. Once she never would have hoped to have such loyal friends.

"You must be 'the Sword,' she says drily to Aribeth. Al leans on her glaive. "It's a title I hate, though Gruumsh still thinks he can use it to tie me to him." She grins, bearing her tusks at the woman. "So far I've managed to make him horribly frustrated. It pleases my spiteful heart." She waves a hand dismissively. "But this wasn't my idea. It was Keggruk's. An orog. He begged, and Erevain encouraged me, and it became my hope. My prayer. Torm answered. I never expected a solution to be found in my lifetime, though, or that other gods would become involved. But I will let them decide what is worth their time." Standing up straight, Alalla rolls her shoulders. "I care little if it isn't worth yours. As for me, my master has given me a job to do, and I intend to do my duty. Join us or not as you like."

Aribeth coolly lays a hand near her sword hilt. "I will do my duty as well, of course. But up until today my task has been to slay orcs, not help them. When this negotiation is done and Gruumsh’s hold relinquished, the orcs will have no more excuse for the evils they do, and justice will be mine to mete out once more."

She turns on her heel and steps away from the group, pausing only to call over her shoulder, "Tell me when you are ready to depart."

Fenthick passes a hand over his eyes. "Please, forgive Aribeth. She has reason to hate orcs, and is well-practiced at it, but surely Tyr chose her to be a part of this group for some purpose. I am a humble cleric myself, but Aribeth is paladin of some renown. I am here only to aid her."

Alalla nods. "The orcs have earned their reputation and the enmity of the other races. As a Towner of Icewind Dale I've seen the tragedy they've caused first hand, and dealt justice to them aplenty as a militia soldier. Most of those I grew up with and served with in Targos are dead to orcish hands." She shakes her head at the returning memories of the Battle of Targos. "Wounds like that run deep, and hatred is natural. It's not even been two years since I began to release my own hatred and to embrace my blood and the orcs that share it." She shrugs. "I don't know Tyr as much as I should, but I trust Torm with everything, and I know he trusts him. I'm sure she'll be needed. As long as she can keep her hatred in check enough to work smoothly with me, I don't care what she thinks of me." It was mostly true. "When we're finished, hopefully we'll have prepared the way for pain like hers to be less common."

Halla, still bristling, doesn't bother to lower her voice. "She thinks because she has pain that it makes her special? We've all had our fill." She fingers the wooden tuning fork. "We could just leave her."

Erevain takes Alalla's hand. "The sooner we handle this task, the better for all involved. Especially Shelur." He squeezes her hand. "As glad as I am that the orcs will finally have their freedom, I do worry about leaving her for too long."

"Yes...she's definitely a bit prickly," Zenithral muses quietly to Halla. "But there's a reason she was brought here, and she still seems willing to go, albeit bitterly."

He gestures to the tuning fork. "Are you read---oh snapple gobs..." He puts a hand to his chest, cringes, and turns to Myllandra. "Any chance we could stop by Kuldahar before heading out? I seem to have...er...forgotten my armor..."

"You're not wrong," Al tells Halla. "But do you want me to smack her?" She pauses, grimacing. "That... didn't translate well. There's nothing we can do about her attitude, I mean."

She eyes Aribeth as she stalks away. The hand on her sword was practiced, and she wore her armour with ease. She was an impressive warrior for certain. But... "She's not as experienced as us, Halla. Maybe it will take her a little more pain to be able to look past it. It certainly took that for us, but I'm not going to give it to her." She winks at the druid. "Yet. Anyway, we don't have to like each other. We just have to get the job done."

Alalla suddenly feels a little frantic as Erevain brings up their daughter. Aiwë isn't here. She's on another plane. Alalla slams down on the rising panic and breathes calm into herself. Their daughter is safe at home, and Chaide knows better how to care for babies than she does anyway.

"Shelur is well taken care of," she assures Erevain. "This won't be worth anyone's time if we don't do it right. But you're right. Let's get going."

Fenthick takes a deep lungful of air, smiling into the breeze. "I had never even heard of this town or the Tree... It is a wonderful sight to behold!"

Even Aribeth's expression softens in the tangible peace of the town. She lifts a wondering hand to touch one of the great roots, reaching only halfway up the root's height. "It is beautiful..."