Fable - Ask The Futures of Fae - Ragash

[Adra Eden]

Ragash - Royal Palace
Garden Courtyard - late afternoon
Brynneld

Following a long day under the Ragashan sun the heat finally began to wane, and while most of the citizens of the Empire had grown accustomed to such temperatures, there was one new occupant of the palace that was not. Vashe had been in the region for a few weeks now, which should have been enough time to find a balance - but she'd remained in hibernation for most of her stay thus far. Having been awoken only a few days ago, the climate hit the heradryad full force.

In the courtyard she was afforded some shade and plentiful water, but the summer days were quite heady and lacking in movement of air. Now cast along the central fountain, a curious and wilted willow tree mysteriously appeared where none had been before. Its roots clung to the walls of the pool, spreading inwards to the water and outwards to the soil path surrounding. No blooms to behold, the tree's vines looked sad and struggling with pale leaves curled at the fringes.

As promised, Vashe did not move from her new sanctuary; giving the Empress time to consider how she wanted to handle her new gift and giving time to the fae to recover more from her harrowing journey across Arethil. Regardless of what Medja chose, it seemed the end goal would remain the same: a trek across the sands to the Scar left behind from the great elder dragon's awakening. The Empress was gathering resources, which included paid mercenaries, some of whom had taken the time to visit the courtyard where they could cool off in the shade.

Vashe watched them in secret and even hosted a few naps at the base of her trunk for her trouble. She did not mind so much ... their company was welcome in a place that felt very empty and lonely.

 

[Erland Karr]

"I swear this fucking sun is different to the one back home," Brynneld muttered. The off duty guards grunted or nodded in agreement.

They were not a particularly vocal group. Some barely even spoke the common trade tongue. They were one of a number of Faran Ligioner, or foreign legions that had fallen into the employ of this empire. As their armies marched South and East a number of these companies had been carrying out more regular duties around Ragash.

When they did speak, in the cooler evenings over mugs of cheap wine, Brynneld came to realise that most of them had come out here for a new life. It was rarely outlined in detail, but he could tell that they had also gone running until they reached the end of the world.

No one needed to know that he was a disgraced Allirian Ranger, that his personal choices had led to so many deaths. No one wanted to judge, because no one wanted to be judged in turn.

Brynneld sat his two-handed sword down against the brickwork of the pool and sat down. When there was a hint of a breeze over the water he found it pleasant and cooling.

He reached out and gently touched one of the dry leaves. He was used to dense forests that spread as far as the eye could see.

"Who dragged you all the way out here hmm?" he muttered under his breath.

 

[Adra Eden]

A soft breeze drifted through the willow's weeping vines, bringing through the rustle of dry leaves the sound of a weary sigh. Vashe smiled inwardly, if only to privately share her struggle with the heat.

Fate... whispered a gentle voice to Brynneld's thoughts.

 

[Erland Karr]

Brynneld closed his eyes as the breeze whispered through the willow. When it passed across the surface of the pool it almost felt pleasantly cool.

His eyes snapped back open. He didn't reach for his sword, but he turned his head from side to side.

Everyone had an imagination that could play tricks on the mind. Shadows in the darkness could become monsters. Brynneld had always assumed that was because shadows in the dark often were monsters.

This wasn't imagination, he had drunk plenty of water and his mind was clear.

"Fate?" he asked quietly, hoping no one else would hear.

 

[Adra Eden]

Amusement. The breeze rustled the willow's dry leaves in a gentle chorus that might've been mistaken for a faraway chuckle. Despite her years, the mischief of fae was a hard thing to grow out of. Vashe took a sense of withered delight in the man's surprise. Though he seemed to know he was hearing voices, could anyone ever really be sure?

To the man's side his sword gently clattered to the ground after a root shifted just-so.

At his back the giggling of noble children as they chased one another into the shade of the courtyard and that offered by the mysterious tree. They each presented a golden coin toward its boughs before tossing them into the water and loudly proclaiming a wish each.

Rumor had gone out that the tree granted wishes - but Vashe hadn't the energy to do so. Her vines swayed somberly in response as she watched the enthusiasm on their faces slowly fade.

"It didn't work," said one.
"Maybe it only works at night," said the other, "momma said she saw the tree spirit sitting by the water last night!"
"Let's come back later."

And off they went.

 

[Erland Karr]

"Fu-" Brynneld jumped to his feet as his sword fell. The noise was well muffled by the scabbard, but it still launched his heart into his throat.

He would have finished cursing, but his deep, resonant voice would have carried to the children dancing around the pool.

The locals were not particularly tolerant of the foreign mercenaries. A wrong word near the wrong family could see him getting a lashing in the public square.

Brynneld glanced up at the tree suspiciously.

"Must have set it down wrong," he grunted, picking up the sword. He hadn't. It was precious to him. Last piece of a life he had left behind.

Turning his back to the tree, he went to collect his squad and set them back to their patrols for the rest of the early evening.

A tree spirit. He didn't think such things were fanciful. Ranging into the Reach he had encountered all manner of creature. Brynneld knew that he should have let such notions go, kept his head down. Curiosity hadn't served him well.



He still came back. After the sun was down much of the city was actually coming alive. Both moons were high tonight. Wearing a tunic instead of leather armour and carrying a wineskin instead of a sword, Brynneld meandered through the courtyard.

 

[Adra Eden]

For a while there was nothing more in the quiet courtyard than the forlorn, hunched willow and the faint glimmer of reflected light on the pool. Here and there the chirrups of frogs, blinking light of firebugs. A black cat with red eyes prowled silently along the edges, stalking a hapless mouse through the greenery.

The stillness was peaceful, and as he meandered he'd feel a give and a take on that stillness. Like a slow breath in and out ... or was it just the breeze?

In the sky above the moons continued their slow dance through twinkling stars, silver light breaking over the high walls of the surrounding building and into this little oasis away from the world. Brynneld was alone but then, after stepping around an alabaster pillar, he suddenly was not.

As the moonlight shifted over the tiles surrounding the fountain pool, falling at last upon the bough of the tired tree, a faint glow caught those weeping vines. Dozens of small glimmers along the leaves became hundreds, and then thousands, coalescing down along the surface of the water in a pale swirl of light. It gathered along the open edge and became a hazey, indiscernible glowing shape.

There it lingered at the pool's edge, tall and elongated for several moments before it bowed and morphed, as if taking a seat. It did not seem to acknowledge the presence of the man.

A sense of loneliness permeated the courtyard.

 

[Erland Karr]

Whilst the calm of the courtyard was peaceful, Brynneld had been close to muttering something about his naive fancy and heading back out into the bustling streets. Many of the Amol-kalit cities seemed to come alive at night when the temperatures were more bearable.

He stilled at the first sign of shimmering lights.

"Fuck."

Even if he had seen the alien creatures that inhabited the wilds, he had assumed the children were making fanciful stories. At least that was what he had told himself. He wouldn't have been here if his curiosity hadn't been piqued a little.

Old instincts had him remaining quite still until there was no more movement. Brynneld dared to approach the pool slowly, trying to make sense of what he could see.

 

[Adra Eden]

Despite closing the distance between himself and the apparition before him, it became no clearer in shape nor form. Its glow was pale, or perhaps weak, and its presence enough only to raise the hairs along his arms. When he reached the pool it finally shifted, straightening somewhere where it lingered by the waters edge as if alerted to his own.

The glow flickered, alarmed. A sound echoed in like the clatter of a thousand tiny bells.

Spooked, the spirit began to slowly disperse back into the myriad of tiny lights it had first appeared as.

 

[Erland Karr]

Brynneld stood and watched as the lights filtered back through the branches. He couldn't remember hearing of anything quite like this. There were stories of lights that guided men in the woods with benevolence. Those that led people to their doom too.

He wasn't being led anywhere. The lights had settled back into the branches. Whilst he had been drinking this evening, it was not enough for him to question his own eyes.

Reaching the edge of the pool, Brynneld gently pulled one of the branches closer. He wanted to see if he had simply discovered a type of firefly.

 

[Adra Eden]

The glowing lights quickly fled from his presence, receding further into the tree until they disappeared entirely. Brynneld would feel the brand in his hand jerk away from him and out of his grasp.

No.

 

[Erland Karr]

"No?"

Brynneld opened his hand and let the frond of willow pull away.

There was no mistaking the voice this time. There was more to this tree than glow in the dark insects or children's fancies.

You are a fool, he told himself. He was out here, so very far from home, because he had followed curiosity and his heart instead of orders.

Perhaps, he thought to himself, that the pain that had shattered him had only changed him for a time. That he was destined to repeat the same mistakes.

He sat down at the edge of the pool and sipped on his wine. It was just a tree spirit of some sort. It would not have been here if it was dangerous.

 

[Adra Eden]

Mortals had always been a source of great curiosity to Vashe, ever so much more than a target for fae mischief. Much as her nature was still inclined for the innocent prank, she felt that wash of somber introspection overcoming the man in the same way she felt the breeze through her vines. He seemed a quiet sort thought twice now had sought out a moment to himself here in the courtyard gardens.

Home…

The voice filtered through the rustle of branches, dwindling on a note of sadness and longing that would not suggest where it was now could be defined with such a term.

 

[Erland Karr]

Brynneld sighed and lifted the wineskin to his lips. He supposed he should have been frightened of the voice in the tree. Fearful for his own life. The truth was that what was left of him now wasn't worth being afraid for.

Commanding a small mercenary company that the locals barely acknowledged, far from home and the people he knew, Brynneld was destined to be a forgotten casualty.

"Home is a long way from here," he said, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. "Guessing it is for a willow tree. Seems cruel to bring one so far from a river."

The water to sat a willow's thirst probably could have kept twenty people alive. The tree was worth a lot to someone.

 

[Adra Eden]

A somber silence feel over the immediate area of the fountain, as if the tree were quite intently listening. It wasn't far at all from the truth. Vashe felt the tugging of nostalgia and the pain of homesickness as readily as any man, woman, or child would that had been separated from a beloved home.

Mirlorne... the voice wondered to the man.

The tree groaned faintly as a branch dipped lower and ever so gently touched the tip of its dangling vine to the surface of the water in the fountain. A faint glow of pale gold resonated outward with the ripple, bringing with it pale images of lush, ancient, and sprawling Mirlorne forest - untold leagues away from the arid desert sands.

 

[Erland Karr]

"Fuck me, you really are a talking tree," he muttered to himself. He had never thought this could have been a product of the wine, but it still took time to sink in.

Not only could the tree spirit talk, but it could show him an image of its home.

"I'm from Alliria," he decided to reply, addressing a talking, magical tree. "Not as green as this forest, but nicer than this place. I suppose most places are.."

 

[Adra Eden]

Alliria.

She thought she knew which lands he spoke of, but many realms were named differently when it came to the fae. Vashe and her sister had traveled much, but never before this far from her one heartgrove. She was lost, now, and utterly unaware of her location in the world. This listless desert city where the sun hung relentless in the sky, beading brows with sweat and hearts with exhaustion.

Eske would have loved it here ... the sun was her friend, not Vashe's. The darker sister preferred her moons.

Another branch creaked, a vine lifted with its dry leaves gently rattling.

Show...

Then the vine slowly reached out to his hand.

 

[Erland Karr]

Bryn set the wineskin down on the edge of the pool. Giving it a second thought, he placed it on the tiled floor outside the little wall. He didn't know what half a bottle of wine in the water would do for any tree - let alone one inhabited by a spirit - but he doubted it would be good.

This was foolish. He knew that. He also knew the simplicity of the matter. Whilst he was here for foolish, costly decisions he had made before, this land was simply boring. For weeks all he had done was walk patrols, move on street beggers and drink himself to sleep.

He held he had put towards the vine.

He wasn't in full control of what he imparted to the tree. A myriad of images crossed his mind. A sprawling and very human city. From the crime ridden Shallows and their huts over the swamps to the brick and mortar central streets. His true home, the wilds east of the city where his rangers kept the roads safe. The inside of dark, dank cell and the regular drip of water from the ceiling.

 

[Adra Eden]

Normally Vashe would have been quite happy to view images of faraway lands. Human cities had always been a subject of curiosity for her, even if they represented something she felt very strongly against: the destruction of nature for one's own gain. Despite their failure to find balance and equilibrium with the world, humans continued to intrigue her even now. This sharing of his brought with it a certain sense of sadness which only served to couple with her own.

The vine drew away, falling to droop as listlessly as it had before.

Tired, said the tree to the man's thoughts. It said nothing more to him for the remainder of the evening.

 

[Erland Karr]

"How does a tree get tired, hmm?" Brynneld went after letting the silence stretch out.

He didn't expect an answer and he didn't get one. A tree couldn't sleep, but suddenly it felt rude to sit drinking wine beside it. It didn't make much sense, but then very little of it did.

The next day was as tedious as the one that had come before. Brynneld hadn't been here long but he was beginning to lose track of time. Days blended together, and yet the tedium of patrolling the streets made each one stretch out.

There were many edges to the world. He had thrown himself off the one with nothing but arid dust to land in.

It was late evening when he returned, the moons only just rising. Brynneld was still wearing the standard leather of the mercenary guard seen around the city and the very non-standard greatsword across his broad back.

Hearing a voice close to the tree, he picked up his pace. Enough that he could perhaps pass across the courtyard without attraction much attention, looking as if he was simply passing through.

 

[Fieravene]

The murmuring of voices as Brynneld drew closer was strangely muffled despite the fact that he should have, at his range, been able to make out the words. Though the voices were not loud, they'd sound to him as though spoken through water, or perhaps a thick stone wall. He could see after several paces a dark figure with beady red eyes having a full-blow conversation with the tree.

Not just short words, or mutterings of one talking to themselves like he had prior, but an entire exchange. The figure spoke, paused and seemed to listen, then spoke again. The conversation ended abruptly when he passed by the dark one's peripheral and the glint of a broad but brief cheshire grin split through the silhouette very unnaturally.

The figure stepped aside of the tree, circuiting it's sprawling roots along the walkway by the fountain and stepping toward him. It passed through a glimmering haze almost like water and quite suddenly the clarity of what he was seeing came into focus; a dark elf, red of eyes and black of wardrobe.

"No need to scurry off," she said after him, "I'd like a moment of your time, Sir."

 

[Erland Karr]

Brynneld slowed his pace. That wasn't a dark-skinned elf. That was a dark elf. There was a significant difference.

Many being had pledged fealty to the empress of Amol-kalit but he hadn't seen any more of her kind around the city.

'A moment of your time' didn't sound like a civilian who needed help from a guard. It sounded like someone with the confidence to give him an order.

Shit.

"Of course," he grunted. "How can I help?" He managed to come to a stop, even though his feet wanted to keep moving.

 

[Fieravene]

Now that she got a proper look at him, the elf narrowed her eyes in thought, "You look quite familiar, have we met? ... well that's rather not the point," and quickly waved the notion off, "I understand you are part of a local mercenary group. Tell me about it?"

 

[Erland Karr]

"No, no I'd remember that," Brynneld replied. He hadn't spoken to a dark elf in his entire life so it made it quite easy to mentally check.

This place had been a little sanctity of retreat from his duties. On his third visit he was getting an inquest into his work.

She seemed quite comfortable giving him orders. More comfortable than he was taking them, for the time being.

"A collection of foreign swords doing busy work," he replied. "Don't see why I should tell you more than that."

He wasn't quite rude - not enough that if she pulled rank he would see the inside of a cell - but he wasn't entirely polite either.

 

[Fieravene]

Gruff sort of man, wasn't he? The elf fixed him with a look of consideration that was not entirely void of mirth, "Indeed. And these foreign swords, are they as strong of spine as they are of arm?"