From: Janne Torklep [torklep@spamcop.net]
Sent: Monday, May 31, 2004 1:15 PM
To: piper@murkworks.net
Subject: Lostholt log, may 2004 (from Tsoran)

A mission to Lostholt (logged by Tsoran, May 26-29 2004)

Location:  East Bank of the Silver Run River, Near Lostholt
Cast:  Tsoran, Strongbow, Moonshade, Treestump, Redstar
Intro:  Lord Winnowill has sent her Chosen out to contact the elfin tribes
in a most urgent matter. Tsorans lot falls to Lostholt, where he is greeted
as befits a Chosen of Blue Mountain.

*****

A familiar sight to some, perhaps: The giant shape of one of Blue Mountains
bondbirds circles high above Lostholt, light glinting off the metal on its
harness. After a while it glides to a landing near the Silver Run River, and
shows no sign of taking flight again.

After a touching moment in their den, the lifemates Strongbow and Moonshade,
slip out into the forest for a... walk. As they come to the crest of the
hill, Strongbow growls, eyes focused on the shape of a landing giant hawk at
the river up ahead. Letting his mate's hand go, Strongbow slips his bow from
his shoulder and begins racing silently toward the river, protectiveness,
distrust, and fear riding the air as he runs.

While the wolfriders eyes are on the spectacle of the giant hawk preening at
the riverside, Tsoran's slender shape emerges from the shadow of one of the
giant trees, hovering an elf-length or two above the ground. A faint smile
touches his thin lips, and then he sends to the archer and his tribemate. **
Darkwing is no threat to you, wolfrider. I am Tsoran, Chosen of Blue
Mountain, and I am here as a messenger. ** With that, he glides down to land
lightly on the ground.

Moonshade eyes the Glider with a wary eye. She keeps a tough gaze focuses on
Tsoran. "Give your message and get out."

Wolf-quick does Strongbow pull an arrow from his quiver, set, noc, draw, and
turn to Tsoran. Aimed at the Chosen, Strongbow kneels to the ground, making
himself a smaller target for the CHosen's talonwhip, and giving himself a
firmer, more solid place to loose his arrow from. Upper lip curls back in a
snarl as a deep rumbling growl floats in the air about him.

Tsoran lifts the brightmetal spear he is holding...and plunges it
point-first into the ground just before the tense archer can release that
arrow. Hopefully. Then he steps slowly forward a few steps, keeping his
hands well away from his talonwhip. ** My message is for your chief, and I
must ascertain he hears and understands it. I mean no harm to him or your
tribe, quite the contrary. I am willing to meet him here, or in a place of
your choosing. ** Stopping, he adds calmly. ** I will wait here for his
decision. **

Tsoran sends openly ** The spear is a gift. Call it a symbol of my good
intentions. **

Moonshade says "He is not here." She continues to show distrust. "You will
have to speak to one of us who are here. There are plenty of elders you can
speak with. Strongbow has authority here."

Tsoran inclines his head to the small wolfrider female. ** There is only
truth in sending, something I believe is self-evident even among the
wolfriders. ** Well, he isn't outright accusing her of lying... ** I suggest
you take council with your tribe, then. If your chief is not...available, a
council of elders will be acceptable. ** With that he turns, deliberately
turning his back to Strongbow, and walks away into the trees. ** I will be
here. **

*****

(Time passes...)

Redstar scrambles down the steep hill.
Treestump scrambles down the steep hill.

Tsoran is lounging in a tree, entirely comfortable on a wide branch high
above the ground. The giant hawk is currently in the process of ripping
apart half a dozen silvery fish, then gulping them down that wicked beak.

Taking a nice leisurely walk in the afternoon, an odd enough thing for a
wolfrider, Redstar and her wolf finds themselves along the bank of the
river. The breeze blows from behind them s that scent aren't carried as
easily to sensitive noses, and some sounds don't quite make it. So, for the
moment, the young broken huntress remains unaware of any visitors in the
area except for the normal elderescort she has while out. The bondbird's
muching, she assumes, is from another predatory bird eating dinner.

His fears confirmed as he see's not the glider but the Giant beast it
normally rides eating it's meal. Having already stopped Treestump places a
large but gentle hand onto Redstar's shoulder sending to her in a locksend.
His eyes moving over the landscape searching for the rider he knows is
normally with such a beast. His crossbow being grabbed from his shoulder
with his other hand.

Tsoran watches the odd couple for a few moments. Then he unfolds lazily, and
rises from the branch with a carefully measured amount of noise. Drifting
down, he sends politely. ** Greetings. **

It doesn't take much to stop Redstar from moving, espceially if there's a
send involved. After the alst couple of nights, that has regressed again to
utter refusal to accept and causes her to freeze in place. Looking up from
sniffing something fascinating on the ground, Digger then growls at the
great bird and the approach of an unfamiliar elf.

Treestump continues to ready his troll forged weapon as the glider makes
himself known. His greeting is not so polite ** What might it be that brings
you here? ** He looks up while he's placing the arrow into the bow. Can't be
too ready for the unknown. ** You'll not be takin another. **

Tsoran drifts to a landing, appearing undisturbed by the arrow pointed at
him by the glowering wolfrider. He remains a few elf-lengths away from the
others. ** I am Tsoran of the Chosen, and I bring a message from the Lord of
Blue Mountain for the elves of Lostholt. **

The growling wolf brings Redstar out of her frozen state, only to perk up at
the mental voice, and the name given. Too many nightmares have carried that
name, so she's not fortgotten. Wolf thought just hasn't erased that
experience from her memory except for small details. A growl jumps to her
lips before she starts to speak, "Don't let him, Treestump."

Just shaking his head Treestump speakings to the cub intead of sending. The
elders eyes narrowing and his head tilting slightly forward as he says "He
wont cub." Bright white teeth snarled towards Tsoran "Speak messenger." he
thrusts the crossbow towards him as if the memories that he recalls are more
than enough to end this already

The elders ears slowly begin to reden against his bright yellow hair as
well. He finally adds ** Then go **

Tsoran's grey eyes moves sidewise to the younger wolfrider for a moment,
before returning to the more immediate presence of the bearded one with the
troll bow. ** As I have explained to the first elves of your holt <mental
image of Strongbow and Moonshade>, it is imperative that this message
reaches your chief. Or failing that, others who can speak on behalf of your
people. I assure you, I intend no harm to any member of your tribe.** He
spreads his fingers a little, hands held with palms out in a disarming
gesture.

Redstar believes that about as much as she believes the water will part when
she steps into the river, so its a derissive snort she gives, even if the
message is sent. A hand moves to rest on the wolf's shoulders, at least
allowing Tsoran the benefit of not having a wolf suddenly leaping at him.

A soft huff of air leaves Treestumps nose as he aparently doesn't like that
news. The elder lowers his crossbow a smirk on his face "Now Air walker,
I'll just be assumin that this message you have aint quite all that
important. To be thinkin he's likely to jump up and run like a pup just
cause you bark." he hermphs lettinghis free'd hand linger on his ax belt
"After all, Them be some high hopes I think. Perhaps I dont think what you
gotta say be important enough." he re-aims his bow.

Tsoran meets Treestumps eyes, switching to a locksend. His hands remain in
plain view, and he makes no attempt to move closer. Or retreat, for that
matter.

You locksend to Treestump, Tsoran's mind touches yours, a darkly velvet
touch with restrained force behind it. ** You are all in danger, but not
from Blue Mountain. Ask your chief if he knows what happened to the Grove.
And repeat my offer: I will met him here, or at a place of his choosing. Or
failing that, enough of the elders of your tribe that I may be certain my
message is heard by those who should know. **

Redstar lets Treestump take care of Tsoran. At least there, a rather
comforting presence. All she can hear is the breeze ruffling through
leathers and clothes and the bondbird showing on fish.

Darkwing gulps the last fish. *chomp*. And settles down to preen his wings,
keeping one beady eye on the trio of elves.

(Treestump) Moves his head slightly to the side and clenches his teeth
tighter as if he jsut got a threat. His teeth squeaking a bit as he sends
back in a locksend. He seems to get a slow ironic smirk onto his face as
Treestump replies.
Treestump locksends ** The snake is offerin us help?(his mind is
disbelieving that thats the entire reason) **

You locksend to Treestump, Tsoran sends simply. ** No. She is asking for it.
This is a danger greater than any of us. **

Tsoran inclines his head a little, and takes a step back. ** I will wait
here, until I have fullfilled my mission. I will speak to your chief, or
those who may speak for him. ** The ground slowly disappears from under his
feet as he rises into the air.

"Lets go Lass. This Glider knows better than ta come much closer." he places
a hand on her shoulder to aid her in the right direction. His gaze stays on
the Glider and no he hasn't put that Crossbow away yet.

Tsoran drifts back to his tree, resettling on that nice comfy branch. Just
another bird up a tree. Darkwing yawns mightily as well but never lets the
'visitors' out of his sight. ** Time passes, and the darkness draws closer.
Do not wait too long, cousins. **


**********

A full day has past, with no word from the wolfriders. Strongbow's been
chewing this one to the nub, and as he gets closer and closer to howling for
a Council, he decides that he needs more information. As dusk approaches,
the acting Chief draws himself together as much as he can and moves to
toward the Chosen's camp. Almost there, and Strongbow stops, fighting down
bitter distrust and unease. He's chief right now. The tribe doesn't need
another fight. Not right now. So, it is with a deep breath that Strongbow
finishes the journey to Tsoran's resting place, keen eyes and nose alert for
the Chosen, and of course: his bow.

Tsoran has been making himself quite at home, with a small campfire which
currently holds glowing coals and the remains of the latest meal from the
river. The Chosen himself is currently at the waters edge, apparently
rinsing off a knife. The bondbird is perched on a rock outcropping on the
other side of the river, and as the wolfrider approaches it calls out, wings
partly unfurling. Tsoran glances over his shoulder, and tells his bond.
"Quiet, Darkwing." Then he slips the knife into his right boot and rises,
turning to face Strongbow.

Fire. Strongbow's upper lip ripples, half curling into a sneer. How he
detests fire. The very scent is enough to make him wretch. He takes another
steadying breath, then lifts his eyes to Tsoran. **Your message,** the
archer states, tone almost demanding. TWo simple words, yet the thoughts
behind them convey: he will carry the message himself to the tribe, and from
their, they will decide.

Tsoran sends openly ** Remains unchanged. I have been charged by Lord
Winnowill to deliver it to the chief of Lostholt. ** He regards Strongbows
hair for a moment, having gained a certain knowledge of wolfrider customs in
the past decades. ** Can you speak for your tribe? **

The archer nods, once. It's a clipped short motion that accompanies his
mind's reply, **I can.**

Tsoran hesitates, studying the other. Then he sends after long moments of
deliberation. ** Time is of the essence, so I will give you the message. But
I will not leave this place until I have the reply I need. ** He walks over
to one of rocks nearby, and seats himself, reducing the difference in height
between the two somewhat.

Time. Time matters not to the wolf. But the tribe has dallied too long in
this, ignoring the matter since it had not affected them. Again, Strongbow
nods, nutmeg eyes forcibly focused upon Tsoran, lips forced not to curl into
a sneer of hate. Tsoran will not leave until a decision is made, just like
the GoBacks. Well, in that case, Strongbow will just have to make sure the
tribe makes a decision quickly. A glider in the holt is just too frightening
for words.

Tsoran sends in a measured way, emotions supressed from the images. ** Not
too long ago, we heard of the destruction of Grove holt. I was sent to look
into it, and found the holt destroyed down to the very bones of the land,
even the earth itself churned and mangled. There was a stench of corrupted
magic all over the area. The Grove is...was close enough to the Mountain for
this to be of interest to our Lord. She has searched in her own way. ** He
closes his eyes, perhaps in recall. ** Something bad is coming, wolfrider.
Very bad. And very strong. A power to rival any other on this world, even
our Lord. ** Then he opens his eyes again, fixing them on Strongbow. ** Blue
Mountain asks your help, that we may stop this menace. We need fighters,
magic users, thinkers -- everybody who can help. **

Strongbow's eyes narrow. So, the young wolf-chief was right. The Snake did
have NOTHING to do with Grove's destruction, or the terrible death of that
bright elfess. The archer's lips purse faintly, before smoothing out. He
nods, replying, **You'll have your answer soon.**

Tsoran repeats. ** Time is of the essence. Lostholt is far away from the
Mountain, for those who travel on ground. But then again, I think, not far
enough to avoid the attention of that evil power if it were allowed to
continue unchecked.** He rises again. ** I will wait for the decision of
your tribe.**

Strongbow nods. Strongbow knows, too well, the distance to Blue Mountain.
It's not far enough, in his opinion, but what can ya do: move a mountain?
The archer turns to go, but then stops. Dammit. As 'Chief' he's got to say
SOMETHING about how the Chosen can stay here.. at least to make it formal.
Glancing over his shoulder, his upper lip twitches again. **Stay here until
your answer comes, and drift no further into our hunting grounds. Should
game be too scarce for you, send. Keep your fire to that one ground pit.
Should the wind bring us the scent of a larger flame, leave.** His lupine
eyes glow in the night as they narrow distrustfully. **Understand?**

Tsoran's thin lips curl faintly into a smile, and he offers Strongbow a
formal bow, Mountain-style. ** I understand. There will be no quarrel
between us. **

To that, Strongbow snorts, a wolfish cough of complete and utter disbelief.
'In send, there is only truth,' and yet, deep in his core, Strongbow has no
faith in gliders. No quarrel between /us/, but that says nothing of the rest
of the tribe, and so Strongbow sneers silently, then turns and goes,
disappearing into the forest once more.

*****

(Some time later...)

You sense in a locksend, Strongbow sends to you, his mind settling upon the
stranger within the holt with a quiet disdain. **Chosen,** he sends, **The
tribe has decided. Tell the Snake that a group from Lostholt will arrive
with the GoBacks and Gathered Holt soon.**

You locksend to Strongbow, Tsoran dwells on that announcement for a little
while, then sends in reply. ** I will bring Lord Winnowill your message. **

(End logs)