The Triad

Halla sniffs. "'Tis indeed. It has been nurtured by druids of my Circle for thousands of years. The town has grown much in the last year, as more people hear of its wonder."

It is true. In spite of the damage that the town suffered in the past several years, it now sprawls nearly half again as large as it used to.

Thank you, Myllandra!

...

As soon as they arrive, Zenithral begins jogging off to the cottage for his armor while Halla prepares the spell. "I'll be just a moment,"

He returns a few minutes later donning brilliant half-plate, painted white and accented with red. He slows to a stop, armor clinking, then clears his throat and glances around. "Ready."

"I'm glad you like it. We went through a lot of trouble to keep it this way." Alalla blinks in surprise as she takes a good look around herself. "Battle and blood, but I think there are more houses built even since I was here last!"

As Zenithral jogs up Alalla whistles. "Is that new? I didn't know Conlan could make something so pretty." She looks down at her own plate. It's well polished and cared for, with the Cagebreaker insignia etched into the chest plate, but armour that well used can only hold so much sheen, and she hadn't had a chance to get its latest set of dents and dings hammered out of it yet. "I think I need an upgrade."

"Oh, this? Yes! He did a marvelous job." Zenithral says. "It was mostly just a paint job, really. Well, and smoothing out the dents. And forging some new plates to fill the holes." He shrugs. "Getting impaled by a fallen angel will an infernal blade will do that. Halla here keeps telling me I need to start using wood," he says with a grin, turning his head towards his wife. "But until we find some ancient, magic tree that we can cut up for armorable wood on-par with steel, I'm sticking with this."

Alalla winces. "Right. We've been rough on our gear, huh? Sometimes I think that the only reason Conlan gave me this stuff," she knocks on her chest plate, "after we came out of the tunnels was so that he didn't have to repair the wreckage Yxonumei left behind. It's a miracle that mess carried me through Bilewing."

"You'd think using a bow would keep him safe," Halla mutters, as though getting stabbed were Zenithral's own fault. "But no, somehow he manages to keep getting stuck with blades. 'Tis a trait that makes my job difficult."

She puts a fond hand on Zenithral's chest. "But no, the kind of wood I talk about is not cut or hewn. It is grown."

Al pats Halla consolingly. "That's what you get for marrying an Ilmatari aasimar," she says, completely void of sympathy. "He basically asks for it." She winks at Zenithral.

She looks at the Kuldahar tree with interest. "Is that a thing you can do?"

Erevain flinches at Al's reference to her death at Yxonumei's hand. His hand unconsciously drops to finger the hilt of his broadsword. "Dark times... and yet, I am glad for them." He smiles at his wife, green eyes alight with joy.

Aribeth looks up. "An aasimar? Of Ilmater? Small wonder you were chosen for this task, then." She straightens her sword belt. "And speaking of, I do not like to keep Tyr waiting. We must be off."

Halla rolls her eyes. "Ah yes, the gods. Could we not instead hurry for the sake of the orc peoples we are to free? Are their souls not worthy of our haste? Or must it only be done because your god pointed and commanded?"

Aribeth's expression darkens. "I did notice such irreverence when you stood before Torm, child. But should you ever behave so before Tyr, the experience would not go so well for you."

She stands straighter. "And to answer your question, I will pose another. What orc has done any good with its sorry life?"

"Aribeth, enough!"

Fenthick's abrupt plea shocks the half-elf into silence. "Look at these people. They are good, with good causes. Emancipating an entire culture from a tyrannical deity is something that can only make the world better for everyone." He takes her hand and looks her in the eye. "Please, curb your attitude and calm your bloodlust. What happened decades ago at Thundertree you have paid for in blood a dozen times over."

He looks entreatingly at everyone. "Can we please work together to instill hope in a world too full of evil?"

"I think five of the six of us are already on board with that, Fenthick."

Al carries her characteristic impassive expression as she looks at Aribeth. "Gruumsh gave me a gift when I was born, you know. A burning in my gut and fire in my blood. Hunger. Anger. There's never enough blood to sate it." Her eyes are piercing. "But you wouldn't know anything about how that feels, would you?" She cocks an eyebrow. "Mind you don't become what you've been hunting. Now do your duty without griping about it, Lady Paladin, and ask Tyr your questions when you're done."

Aribeth is left speechless for a long moment, eyes flickering from person to person as she considers Alalla's words. Finally, she speaks. "I apologize for my behavior and my words. Know that for Tyr's cause I would gladly give my life. Whatever that cause may be." She withdraws, hand held to her furrowed brow.

Halla sighs. "I apologize as well. I should not goad my companions so. For companions we are, until the task is complete."

The druid examines the wooden tuning fork once more. "There is something about this... It almost seems to speak to me, with words I cannot hear." She leans against one of Kuldahar's great roots and is quiet for several moments. Then her eyes widen. "I know what to do."

Halla turns to examine the root behind her and places her hand high on a ridge of bark. Next her foot lifts to reach a ledge partway up the root. She looks over her shoulder to smile at the group. "Follow." Then her form blurs as she becomes a giant spider, eight shiny legs moving in harmony as she scuttles atop the root. Behind her she leaves a thick rope of webbing to help the others to climb, and she continues on up Kuldahar's trunk.

Zenithral is tense, saying nothing during the exchange, but relaxes as Aribeth and Halla give their apologies.

As Halla transforms and climbs up the tree, Zenithral chuckles. "Oh, now that's just not fair...!" He grabs the web rope and begins climbing after her.

Al nods in acceptance as Aribeth gives her apology, but grimaces slightly as Aribeth turns away. "Hopefully I didn't overdo it," she mutters to the men.

Snorting at Zenithral's retort, Al sticks her glaive into the dirt and takes the rope as he climbs. "Not using your wings? I pray we won't need them later."

Returned to her human form, Halla sits carefully on a thick branch. "’Twas an age ago that I first traveled from Kuldahar to the Ten Towns. Alone, with goblins, orcs, and a frost giant in pursuit." She touches Zenithral’s arm softly. "And ‘twas you who saved me then, and again in the avalanche. Look how far we have come since then!" She glances over at Alalla and Erevain. "All of us."

Alalla shakes her head as she looks down at the mill, remembering a time when she kneeled in the snow before Uligar, bound by Gruumsh's power. A lifetime ago.

"Can you imagine what I would have done if someone told me before I left Targos two years ago what I would be today? A Paladin, or an orcish chief, or an elf's wife, or a mother? Let alone all of them at once. The gutsiest thing I had ever done before traveling the Kuldahar pass was playing a blood-crazed orc in the Targos arena!" She laughs quietly. "I had no idea how lost I was, just doing my best to hide in plain sight."