Chapter 7: To Gravenhollow

"Or, time means nothing to the divine, nor to the daemonic," says Hunter. She looks around, then calls for Huorm to lead them to the appropriate section of the library.

"What do we wish to know?" Hunter asks, though whether or not it was rhetorical is unclear, as she does not seem to direct the question at anyone. "Maybe what the drow are doing now, after releasing the demons and their spawn?"

Her own question answered, Hunter focuses upon the crystal in her hand as she considers the drow and their plans.

Hunter seems to stir as the drow enters the room, but remains focused on the crystal and apparently oblivious to those in attendance. Her hand gestures idly, though whether she is casting a spell or signing a language is unclear.

Mai'ngor fingers his sword hilt instinctively, though he does not draw the weapon. Instead, he bows formally to the drow. "We are travelers and seekers of knowledge, much as yourself. I am Mai'ngor, chieftain of the tikbalang. And you are?"

Hunter shakes herself from her focus on the crystal, muttering something about asynchronous audio with visual. "Answers," she says, squinting her eyes shut to realign her thoughts. She looks at Vizeran studiously, then turns to Melpomene. "Is he the one? The one you saw?"

Hunter nods. "Answers," she says again, "to the question of What in the Abyss were you folk thinking?!"

Melpomene shakes her head, quite certain this is a different drow.

"Then our goals are aligned," says Hunter. "You do appear to have a measure of experience, unlike the one who started this mess. I apologize for casting you in such a light.

"I am Hunter. We are also here to figure out what is happening and discover some means of stopping it. We have danced too close and too often with the demon lords for my liking."

She takes Sarith's hand and gives it a squeeze. "I am afraid we do not know much save visions of the event that started it all, and a few glimpses of the demon lords in their purview."

Ma'ngor registers Sarith's discomfiture. The tikbalang has never fully trusted the drow warrior. But seeing a reaction like that Mai'ngor is even less inclined to trust this Vizeran Devir.

"What do you know of this 'mess' and what, exactly, do you mean when you say you mean to 'fix' it?"

Hunter appears as though trying to judo-throw Sarith over her shoulder towards Vizeran. Lacking the strength, she smooths her robes and looks for a seat. "This would seem the perfect learning opportunity," she says. "We would be honored to hear your theories, and we shall do our best to keep up."

"But of course," Hunter says with a tinge of ice. She hands the crystal to Melpomene to give the tiefling an opportunity to focus upon it. Hunter sits and takes out an old piece of the Pudding King's throne and taps lightly upon it with a small hammer, turning the stone ever so slightly at each beat.

"Why are we here again? Seems like if they can find the solution themselves then they probably could take care of it themselves too."

Mai'ngor laughs heartily. Either the drow slights them on purpose, or his arrogance is so great that insult is offered unthinkingly. Either way, the proud tikbalang chieftains of old killed over far, far less. But after everything he's been through, to sully Sinag's blade with such a senseless death is distasteful to Mai'ngor. The tikbalang wipes a tear of mirth from his eye. This Devir is dirt. Mai'ngor's already dim view of the drow has not improved this day.