Featherflights
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He is accompanied by another Dwarven figure, this one more obviously wearing armor with an axe at his side.
…in his hand, he holds one of the honored bone-tipped arrows that was once given to him as a gift by a Featherlight Elder.
He approaches slowly, in a non-threatening way, and asks if any Elders are available for him to speak with. He seeks counsel.
If asked, he smiles and says that he is sometimes known as Dwin DOlvak, other times, amongst the faithful Featherlights, he has been referred to as simply "Stumpy."
He looked around the fire in a corner of the camp away from rock walls and close to the forest edge. While the years had given him practice on guessing the age of humans he looked closely at the tribesmen about him. The time seemed to weight heavy on young faces, and there were NOT any old ones except for a few women . . . one of whom spoke first.
"Take food, drink, and warmth by the fire." She passed across a flask of soemthing potent, a well spiced bite of venison and gestured to sit by the fire with them." The younger bowmen spread back a bit and clearly were standing guard but within earshot.
Dwin took an appreciative drink and a bite of the food before sitting and nodding his thanks.
"Elders, we have none left within the Featherflight tribe. Accident and ambush have decimated the senior members. Bowmaster, Arrowlord, Trailscout, Chief, all fallen to dark bolts."
"Dark bolts?" Dwin asked, unfamiliar with the term.
"The Black Elf weapons. They have been active in the deep woods, even on the borders of the night if the forest is deep and dark enough. The Heyokaar run in the open and so they have not been hit as hard but our way is the forest roads and they are no longer safe."
"Have you tried to strike back?" Dwin asked frowning.
"Everytime a hunting band gathers they fade into their caves or deep where we cannot find them." She paused. "Sometimes the trail says that they leave not an hour before our arrival yet the hunting band is as silent as can be." She shakes her head. "But that is why you speak to younger folk and old women. Of our tribe there is little else left. Come, why have you asked to see us?"
m
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I am sure you know of the troubles in the North, In Jiyyd, or rather, what was once Jiyyd.
A great many innocents are now within my realm. Refugees without shelter, or much food.
I cannot guarantee their safety. Norwick has many threats upon us, and I am in constant fear that my flock, now doubled in size with the Jiyyd and Hin refugees, is in grave danger.
Using the age-old paths of the Featherflights, I ask you this giant favor. Can I send the women and children of the realm here to your land where they might be spared the cruelty of Bugbear, foreign invaders, or evil that possibly and likely awaits them?
I will send along with them whatever provisions I can. I only want the innocent to be safe. It is a great responsibility that has been thrust upon me. You know me as a warrior, and one that would sooner seek the death of my enemies, but this new role, as a protector, is one that I swore to my God himself. First for Dwarven-kind, but now I believe for all souls in need.
A great storm is on this land and I do not have the shelter to keep everyone safe from it! Will you, can you help?
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Since then Lyte has been spoken with and there will be more talking in the near future
//I am back//
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((bumpity bump bump))
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@6a74603956:
"Everytime a hunting band gathers they fade into their caves or deep where we cannot find them." She paused. "Sometimes the trail says that they leave not an hour before our arrival yet the hunting band is as silent as can be." She shakes her head. "But that is why you speak to younger folk and old women. Of our tribe there is little else left. Come, why have you asked to see us?"
Dwin nods respectfully after sipping the offered food and drink.
For many years I have been a friend of the tribe, and I am greatly saddened by the losses of which you speak. I am sure that the souls of your elders and your warriors are well-honored in the after-life… the ones I knew were all great hunters and warriors.
I think that our tribes, yours here and mine in Norwick, once again share a common threat. I have a good friend waiting outside your lands, and with your permission, I would like to bring General Lyte of Jiyyd here to speak to you as well. Jiyyd also shares this threat, and I think that we can all benefit from speaking.
Lyte's story is a special one, and when I heard it I thought that I needed the wisdom of the Featherlights to help. You will see why.
I vouch for her as one of your tribe once vouched for me. May I bring her into your camp to discuss more about our common problems?
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((woops, I must have been on vacation when this was posted, I just saw it now for the first time. I will respond to MND's post above as soon as I can. sorry for the radio silence!))
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Shortly after the dwarf reachs the gate and asks for entrance, a slender womanly shape emerges from the treeline almost as if invisible before, and now only becoming slightly visible as she get's closer to the gates. She seems timid and shy, unsure of what she is doing but she steps with the grace of someone used to hiding in the shadows… she is hooded in a white cloak and tattoo's can be seen covering her body..
As she approaches she slowly removes the hood revealing her long silky red hair, and crystal blue eyes, she appears to be dressed in a very old outfit, in the traditional Featherflight colors. "I am Iria, beloved of Jannak!" she says in a firm yet respectful manner... "I come to speak with the elders, I seek information..."
The slender woman waits patiently at the gate, standing firm and proud, even if seeming a little unsure... she does not make eye contact with any of the men guarding the gates.
