Kuldahar
The druid leans forward. "I have been reading the old lore, and I think Arundel was right when he spoke of the Balance. There must be some way to keep everything in check." She looks out a window at the roots of the Great Oak. "But whether that means to preserve everything as it is, or evolve into something new... I know not."
She chuckles and looks at Alalla. "At the very least, this has made me more philosophical. What of youself? You and the others have changed since you left Kuldahar to seek the Heartstone Gem."
If you want to restore what was, how far will you go? Yesterday? The beginning of time?" Alalla shrugs. "It seems easier to accept change, and try and make sure it's change for the better."
"As for me..." Al runs a hand through her hair, sending her beads clacking. "We all went through things underneath the Spine. It's begun it's work, but I think I'm still waiting to see how what I learned will change me. However it does, I hope to change the world with it too." She fidgets uncomfortably at the declaration. "Hopefully that doesn't put us at odds, she laughs awkwardly.
Nessa casts Mage Armor on both of them and holds out the dagger, but keeps it out of reach.
"You can use it for now, but if you fail to do everything I say, I take it back. However, if you are able to hurt an Orc you can keep it. Deal?"
Arvid has apparently had enough of the wall. He moves his ponderous bulk backwards, revealing a wrinkled, bald face that turns slowly to consider Alalla. He stays that way for several long minutes as the conversation continues.
"Us at odds? I hardly think so!" Halla scratches the tortoise's scaley head. "If change is what the world needs, then perhaps we can work together to keep it from whirling out of control."
Rolls
Insight (This feels like a trap... What are your *real* intentions?) - (1d20+6)
(12) + 6 = 18
"They we're right about Orcs kid, they don't count. Also, pranks my dear boy are tricks. Like when you soaped the floor. Funny and good, until someone got hurt. Then it became bad. When you do tricks or pranks, make sure you do one where nobody can get hurt. Like this."
With a wave of his hand a spider the size of a dog jumps out of a shadow and lands in front of Jermsy.
Alalla hesitates, then reaches out to take Halla's hand. "Halla... I can't promise that. For one, I can't say what circumstances will be when we encounter him. Taking him prisoner so we can bring him to you would be too risky. He will see justice," Al promises, "but we've talked about revenge already. Don't let Erestor take more from you than he has. Don't let him take any more from Kuldahar."
The elf bites back another spiteful comment, then takes a breath and continues. "She will not listen to me, but perhaps she will heed your words. She always was... attached." It is obvious he does not wish to share any more information with Zenithral than necessary. "Also, the place I must go to reach her is... difficult to enter. I cannot reach it on my own. But with your help, I can."
He holds his hand palm up in front of him, and a shape appears there: a small replica of a city, with five towers stretching upwards like fingers.
"This is where she is being held. The place is warded against those of most bloodlines. Yours is one that will bypass many of the defenses. You can get me through."
For all of the doubts he harbors about his father, Zenithral feels that Erestor is being truthful. About most of it, at least. But he does seem earnest about helping Zenithral's mother.
"Hm," Zenithral says, trying to memorize the general appearance of the city. "Alright. Where shall I meet you then?"
"And you sit here and lecture me on vengeance, Alalla, but I remember well how you buried an axe in an orc priest when the fight was already won. And Zenithral, claiming the goodness of the gods, yet lying to me about something I had every right to know the full truth of." She stares down at Alalla with fury. "You might be heroes, but you are not friends."
"That priest-! That fight was not won as long as he lived. You've never had them worm about in your head. If I hadn't killed him he could have turned me against you, and my axe could have found your chest instead."
Alalla stands herself, her own cold anger towering inches above Halla. She moves to open her mouth to say more but the look in the smaller woman's eyes stops her. Does her own face look like that? She really is losing her hold on herself.
Alalla sits with forceful sigh, willing the anger to seep away. "I'm not trying to lecture," she says through gritted teeth. She puts her elbows on the table and her head in her hands.
Calm, calm.
"The lessons I've learned, I've learned through pain. I'm sure you've learned yours the same way. I'm just trying to help spare you any more.
I can't speak for Zenithral, but I'm only doing my best, Halla. For everyone. If you have suggestions," Al waves to Halla's empty chair, "please." Her voice contains no more anger. Only weariness. It would be nice if she can live up to someone's expectations. She and Erevain should have stayed in Waterdeep, or Silverymoon. She hasn't failed anyone there.
The staff in Halla's hands does not change appearance, but the hairs on the back of Alalla's neck rise as an aura of power emanates from it. A swirling wind howls within the room, ripping through the leaves on the walls and clattering the dishes in the cabinets.
It is only when Arvid's head droops that Halla realizes the damage being done. She pulls the staff close to her, shutting off the wind. In the sudden silence the temperature begins to rise again, but the ice Halla's eyes and voice does not warm.
"I am going out. I do not want you in this house when I return."
"You know what else was important? Conlan's little boy. You think I should have turned around, leaving Sheemish in the clutches of a dragon, so that I could give you a message? And I trust my spellcasters with things like this as far as their attention spans are long."
Al folds her arms stubbornly. "What about Zenithral? He's a victim in this too. I chose what I thought was the best thing for all my friends. You are only thinking about yourself."
I'm sorry you found out like this, maybe I should have tried to send you a message, but honestly, it wasn't on my mind. I was trying to stay alive, to keep my party alive, to keep the Kuldaharans alive. Mail was not my first priority. But you know what? Finding out sooner would have changed nothing, except maybe left Kuldahar without a druid while you went haring off in a rage, or perhaps prevented this magical tantrum."
Al waves her hand dismissively and snaps at the druid. "Go then. But I can't promise I won't be here. I'm tired of taking your claws whenever I try to help you, but if Kuldahar needs me to, I will." She scratches at her chest casually, pulling her shirt down to where the tops of sabertooth claws scarred her chest. There had been too many in need that night for much magical healing.
Al hopes that Halla will remember what else had happened that night. That she had held her in the rain while Halla cried into her shoulder and her claw wounds dripped blood onto the ground. They had been friends then. Halla had appreciated her advice then.
Rolls
Intimidation (Snap out of it, girl!) - (1d20+4)
(13) + 4 = 17
"I will meet you at the drawbridge that leads into the city. Come as quickly as you can. Bring your friends if you must, but I will not guarantee their safety. This place has danger enough for only the two of us. Including more will only make the task more difficult." Erestor closes his eyes. "Hurry, boy. Every day your mother's state grows worse."
Then he is gone, and Zenithral is left with Myllandra.