Spirits of the Earth

Tag: @visualspice

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Follow the eastward path, they said.

An encounter with a pair of Dryads and living to tell the tale is no small feat for any mortal being. Being saved from a demon by a pair of Dryads is a rare occasion indeed, and one that most definitely would be a story worth telling to one's children and grandchildren.

Dezrehn must have walked for only a few minutes; his wounded leg gave him nary even a protest or ache as he moved along the footpath through the forest. This was no road, but rather it appeared more like a deer or goat trail, walked thousands of times over by the animals of the woodland and beaten down into a vaguely flattened terrain. But with that walk, the forest thinned and the trees gave way to the outskirts of a village. A Serenian village, and a coastal one at that. Farmers and homesteaders worked their small plots of farmland and fishing boats dotted the horizon. Humans, Halflings, Elves, and Dwarves all mingled and spoke amongst one-another in the village proper, though this small settlement only housed two hundred people at most.

This was Summervale, and it was a beautiful, picturesque day here.

As the forests melted away into a more sandy trail, one still littered with trees but the scent of the ocean was clear. And the place was welcoming, warm, if not a bit humid as the air all but clung to every bit of him.

He followed the path, going East, as they bade, stopping only once along the way to catch his breath on a steep portion of the trail. But once he stepped out from the trees he saw the town and studied it with interest.

East. But Easy to where? He supposed it was time to start searching for this LeAnn.

He never left the path, ensuring he was going East, or as East as he could until the dirt path turned to cobblestone and he began to enter into the town proper.

LeAnn.  He had to wonder what this woman owed to a pair of dryads to be sought out by he. He supposed it didn't rightly matter, but for all he knew, this path East could lead him into a circle for days.

The little Summervale village was exactly what one would expect for such a small town: Bustling with activity, but highly social in its nature. Folk from all walks of the village life mingled, bartered, and gossiped amongst themselves and each other, laughing and gasping all throughout. Dezrehn's presence was a noted oddity, and as an outsider he earned himself several concerned looks from the village folk as he passed, especially due to his former injuries.

It didn't take long for a matronly woman with her children and husband to approach the young Connlaothan man. The mother of three spoke first, opting to use a lingua franca among the sea-traders; she was no adept, but she could speak the words easily.

"Are you alright, young man?" asked the Human woman. "Where did you come from? You look like you were attacked by bandits!"

Dehzrehn felt the scrutiny of the villagers gaze, but was it by no means menacing.  In fact, the town was a lively thing, beautiful in its own right and thriving. Dehzrehn studied the woman as she approached,  and bowed his head respectfully 

"My travels have not been kind. Thank you for your concern. But I was told to seek out a woman here in town. Are.. you a native here? Perhaps you can help me. I seek a woman named LeAnn..  Her home I was told was east. "

The name "LeAnn" brought expressions of utter confusion among the family that had stopped to ask about Dezrehn's well-being. The way that name was even pronounced marked it as foreign to the region. The fact that Dezrehn had said she lived there only deepened their confusion.

"Maybe he's talkin' about Leann," the woman's husband said in the local language as he ran his fingers through gruff facial hair. He pronounced it like "Lin."

That was enough to spark recognition in the woman's eyes. "Oh! You mean Leann," she chirped in the trade-tongue. "Here, come with us. We'll show it to you."

A village of only two hundred people or so was a small place indeed. The walk was not at all far through the village's main road. It turned and led to a small group of hills, and as if the structure was built into the very hill itself, lay a home.

(Image courtesy of Ravenbraid, and text by me, copied from a different thread.)


The combination of home-and-shopfront was of a rustic sort: A picket-gated yard with a cobblestone path leading to a perfectly round door nestled neatly into the side of a small, grassy hill. Out front was a simple sign reading "OPEN" in the local language.

He was thankful the woman and man knew who he inquired about. He felt sheepish it seemed there was a bit of a barrier between them, but he thanked them all the same as he was guided down the cobble stones to a quaint mercantile home. It was hard to tell if it was a home or business or both.

He again, nodded his thanks to the woman and stepped through the small fence and approached, golden eyes taking in the small details of the place before finally making his way towards the door. He had to wonder what kind of woman she was, perhaps elderly? He wasn't sure. He supposed he was going to find out as he composed himself and gave a knock at the door.

He studied the 'open" sign as he waited. Ah, he supposed this was a place of business at the very least.

After a few moments of waiting, the shopfront door clicked and opened. It had no discernable way to simply open on its own; an enchantment, perhaps?

(Description copied from another thread)

Just through the door was a cozy and meticulously organized shop: Shelves lined the walls, adorned with glass cases and vial racks, some empty, others containing all manner of objects both magical and mundane. The scent of cinnamon and vanilla gently caressed the senses as one navigated through the roomy- albeit small- store; and at a desk far too tall for any reasonable Halfling, sitting on a tall stool, legs childishly swinging back and forth, was the shop's owner.

"Welcome!" greeted the Halfling. "Are you here to pick up an order?"

The woman hopped off her stool and trotted over to Dezrehn in a peppy, childlike manner. Her footfall made no sound, even when reasonably her shoes would be clacking against the wooden floorboards. Four feet tall, barely the height of a child, but with the agility and proportions of an adult it seems.

Dehzrehn was a bit taken back by the door opening on its own. He wasn't sure he'd ever fully get used to magics being used so casually. Sweet scents assaulted his senses as he stepped inside, the place housing many glasses items in several racks and sizes of bottles.  He allowed himself a moment to digest this when a young woman's voice called out to him in greeting.

Dehzrehn paused in mid stride, again taken back by the child like being before him. At first he considered her a child, but he had heard of child like races and knew this far south,  anything was possible. But he practically towered over her and for a moment, he wasn't sure what to say, his mouth would open, then close, then open again before he drew in a breath and shook his head.

"No, I uh, are you Leann?" he asked, hoping he Pronounced her name right this time. "I was told to come here and seek you out. That you could help me."

The Halfling pouted out her lips and tapped her chin in thought.

"Weeeell, I do get that a lot," she answered. "But for any specific requests, you'll probably want the real version huh?"

The Halfling suddenly disappeared in a brief glint of blue light. Another glint and there she was, standing on top of the shop counter like a conquering queen, her hands resting on her hips.

"I'm just the projection that runs the store," she said with confidence. "Are you here for something specific? Artifice or maybe a reagent?"

A projection. This woman standing before Dezrehn was little more than a very elaborate illusion. A construct made of light and sound and then given autonomy for purposes that- while necessary- would be tedious for someone like the building's owner.

The construct kicked out her two legs and unceremoniously fell onto her backside, her legs childishly dangling off the countertop as she gave Dezrehn another inquisitive look.

Dehzrehn had to do a double take. The woman- it was just an illusion!? His jaw dropped open and his surprise was impossible to hide.  But then he blinked, trying to shake off the sensation and frowned more soberly at the child like woman.

"No.. no, I'm not here for anything like that. I was.. I was sent by a pair of dryads.." He frowned, pausing in mid sentence. "They sent me to you..  well.. the .. the actual you." Ugh, he probably sounded crazy. "Does any of that ring a bell?"

He also didn't get confirmation this was even LeAnn at all. Perhaps he was at the wrong place...
He had gone East, hadn't he?

The construct took on a look of slow-burning realization as she droned out: "Oooooh... You're here about that."

And as if on-cue, a door behind the shopfront swung open to reveal an identical halfling, dressed in green and looking like a child-sized ranger of some sort. Unlike the construct, this one looked much less chipper. She had not even been in the room for a whole five seconds before she arrogantly strode up to Dezrehn and looked him up-and-down, as if to size up his features.

"So Ahib and Vedi sent you," she sighed tiredly. The small woman dove directly to the point: "Did they say why?"

Dehzrehn was taken back by the sudden real appearance of this Leann... or atleast if this was another mirage, it was much harder to tell.

When the small woman spoke their names, he frowned.

"They said you could grant me safe passage. That helping me was some repayment."

The Halfling's expression only darkened at hearing Dezrehn's description of what the Dryads wanted. She pinched the bridge of her nose and cursed something in the local dialect.

"Go figure that making a deal with Dryads would turn out like this..." she sighed. "The things I do for good reagents..."

She made a vague circular wave with a hand. A ring on her finger set with three tiny gemstones lit up, first from the left and then to the right until all three were glowing green.

"You're a mage, and you're Connlaothan, judging by that accent," she said with a pout. "What they're telling me to do is teach you magic so you don't wind up a menace to society."

The little mage breathed another weary sigh and dismissed her ring; the three lights on it winked out like the flip of a switch.

"I'm Tathfheithleann," she introduced herself. Tah-fayth-linn. "You got a name, kid?"

Dehzrehn flinched a little at her antics, watching her ring testily before blinking at her deductions.
"How did you..?" Right, his accent but more pressing...

"My name is Lord Draven... Lord Dehzrehn Draven. I am, in fact a Connlatohian but how did you know I was a mage?"

Never mind the fact it was a bit unsettling this shorter woman was calling him kid.

The Halfling girl hardly seemed phased at Dezrehn's noble title. One's pedigree mattered little to her; doubly so for the Connlaothan nobility. She understood the social power and influence of the societal elite, but while she understood it, getting her to care about it was a different matter entirely.

Tathfheithleann held up the back of her hand, showing Dezrehn the ring. Three small green gemstones dotted the back. Those stones were nothing to write home about; too small to be found on a noblewoman's finery.

"Wearing a gauge," she explained in reference to the ring. "Simple enchantment."

She sized Dezrehn up again. "... So those two chucklehead Dryads want me to teach you a thing or two about magic..." she complained. "... Would have been better if they asked for my firstborn or something like normal Fae but noooo..."

She may be a Halfling, but Tathfheithleann had the social acumen of a Troll. That, or she simply disliked having company appear suddenly. She's a private woman, after all.

"First thing's first," she said. "Your clothes. You look like you fell through a bramble patch."

"I already have his measurements," commented the projection. "There is some cotton left over from the last order. I'll place it on your workbench."

"Hm-hm. Thanks," the genuine Tathfheithleann replied. "Alright, mister lord Dehzrehn Draven, follow me.

What... just... happened?

The guage was clever and something he was thankful wasn't prevalent in Connlaoth,  but as the woman rambled on, he couldn't help but get the impression he was intruding.

But she kept going on about being a teacher to him of magic and as she gestured for him to follow, he called after her.
"Wait.. wait, you're going to teach me magic?"
Is that truly why he was sent here? Did even the dryads realize he was so impotent with magic? Then again, he knew little of these creatures. Or about this woman whose home he just waltzed into. 

And he couldn't help but feel guilty.
"Are you sure this isn't an inconvenience? And i wasn't frolicking in brambles I was.. was being chased and hunted by some demon that tried to eat me."

As if that somehow made any of this any better.

"Wait.. wait, you're going to teach me magic?" Dezrehn called after her.

"Aaaaayep," drawled the Halfling as she turned on a heel. The door on the same wall, but on the other side opened to reveal a flight of well-put-together stairs leading down to some form of a basement. "It's what the Dryads wanted."

"Are you sure this isn't an inconvenience? And I wasn't frolicking in brambles I was-..." Dezrehn started to explain himself. "Was being chased and hunted by some demon that tried to eat me."

"Ayep. Sounds like a Moroi," she replied casually. "Let me guess... Tried to take your magic, too?"

Tathfheithleann barely made it through the threshold leading down before poking her head back out the door.

"You coming or what?"

- - - - - - - - -

The basement was no basement at all.

(Description copied from another thread)

Tathfheithleann's actual workshop would have been better called a laboratory. The basement floor was not only surprisingly vast, but everything was meticulously arranged and set up to allow safe and easy access to materials and workspace. Desks and benches will all manner of arcane and alchemical materiel adorned the entire room, all for Tathfheithleann to apply her trades. At the room's center was a series of concentric circles; runes and sigils glowed softly between each layer as they rotated around the circle's central axis. It was big enough to fit five or six people, but Tathfheithleann rarely (as in, counted-on-a-single-hand-in-its-lifetime rarely) used it for anyone but herself.

"Don't. Touch. Anything," she warned. "Just walk and follow me."

Dehzrehn cringed as she seemed to make some educated guesses. He scratched his head.
"I.. I'm not sure. It was strange and terrifying," he admitted,  looking a bit defeated.

Then she coaxed him along and he followed, eyes staring in awe in the 'little ' basement that seemed tremendous for what it was. As well as obsessively well organized.  Dehzrehn was impressed.

At her warning, he nodded and kept wary, hunching his shoulders as if too tall, but truthfully he did not want his head to bump anything either.

"So have you encountered this . ..,moroi yourself?" He asked,  eyes going towards a nearby shelf.

"Not in-person. I don't do the 'suicidal adventurer' thing," she replied simply. "Just know it from the descriptions. Had to dissect a dead one once for an Advanced Course."

This workshop may be the laboratory of a Halfling mage, but it was cozy and sized enough to fit a person of Dezrehn's height in the room. Maybe Tathfheithleann enjoyed higher ceilings.

Upon one of the many workbenches in the room lay exactly what she was looking for: Amidst a set of various sewing and tailoring equipment was a single bolt of cloth with a few meters of undyed cotton fabric on it. She picked it up and held it under one arm before whipping around on a heel to give the Connlaothan boy a level look.

"Don't move. I'm gonna repair that banged-up outfit. Or at least fix it as much as I can," she explained.

The Halfling turned and removed a delicately carved wand from the workbench. She lifted it, and as she pressed her finger on a little glyph along the spiraling thing's length, the rest of it set itself aglow with sigils and delicately carved runes. She flipped the wand over as if to hold it like a quill and drew a circle in the air, then another and populating the spaces between with more sigils and arcane glyphs.

The cloth in her hand sprung to life as if animated, and floated delicately towards Dezrehn. It unfurled itself like a sail and touched itself to the damaged parts of the boy's outfit. Through transmutation and a bit of know-how, the cloth seamlessly wove its way to his clothing, even taking on the color of the clothing itself. By the time Tathfheithleann was done, Dezrehn's outfit looked as if he had just taken it from the laundry: Fresh and ready to take on the day.

"Hmmm. Not as efficient as I wanted that to go," she murmured to herself before putting the wand down. "Guess it's getting worn out."

Dehzrehn's eyes were wide as saucers at the processionof magic. He barely moved a muscle,  watching the piece of clothe flutter and dance and pieces melted off and molded into the very clothing he wore. Never had he seen magics before in all of his days that by the end of it his entire face blossomed in wonder.

"That was incredible!" He frantically pat down along the places of his clothes once torn ragged and laughed. "You fixed it, truly you did!" His reaction was not unlike a child's, for he felt that way as enthusiasm bubbled with his chest and came out with his laughs.

"You're awfully happy about all this," Tathfheithleann sighed. She didn't seem to find her work all that spectacular. That or she woke up on the wrong side of the bed and Dehzrehn's enthusiasm drained her energy further.

The Halfling girl moved aside. The identical (and more agreeable) projection of her suddenly appeared in a burst of white-blue light.

"I'll set the bolt away for later," she chirped as the bolt animated once again. It followed the projection down to some other part of the basement to be stored.

Tathfheithleann sized Dehzrehn up again, pouting out her lips. "So. Mage, huh?" she said in a flat tone of voice. "How'd you dodge getting shoved in some barbarian execution camp?"

The Halfling seemed to have quite a low opinion of Connlaoth- or rather its policies on magic. Makes sense, considering magic was not just her forté but also how she made her living.

The young man flushed.
"I.. just haven't seen magic in such a way, " he told her,  sheepishly.  Then his gaze followed her duplicate and he couldn't help but just smile at it. But then the woman's inquiry into Connlaoth made him stiffen. He couldn't fully look her way eyes to the floor.

"I... was very careful. Until I wasn't." He felt numb, trying not to recall the memories.  His hands clenched into fists at his side. "My father sent me here so the rumors couldn't spread. You see,  my father is a tradesmen, perhaps you may have heard of him? Lord Daniels Draven? He's traveled most of the continent." He knew it might be a long shot she'd know him, but he would feel a bit happier and more at ease if she did. With her scrutiny,  he felt like he was walking on eggshells.

"Ah, so your da didn't sell you out," she commented. There was a pause as her expression sobered from 'tired' to 'sympathetic.' "... I'm sorry."

She sighed again and pinched the bridge of her nose. She'd really messed up this time with how the young man suddenly looked crestfallen at the mention of his family.

"Draven... Draven..." she drawled. "Think he might've been on one of my lists, but I don't remember."

Tathfheithleann walked on up to Dehzrehn and put a hand on his hip- she would have aimed for his shoulder, but her height didn't allow her to reach such heights.

"Listen, this here's not a bad town," she reassured the young man. "I'll teach you. Give you what you need to know, and you can even pick a school if you want to go to that, okay?"

The young man was quiet for a time as he digested what she said.
"This... is still a lot to take in. I came here south, not just to run... but I also came here to trade. It. .. was supposed to be easy." He frowned, eyes casting to the ground.  "I never thought in a million years I'd run into a demon." He raked a hand through his hair, nerves still shaking his hand and he couldn't keep them idle.

"It almost seems wrong I got to live at the expense of my men.. then get rewarded either knowledge." His frown deepened before he looked away. The wounds were still fresh upon his soul.

"I'm sorry, I guess I'm still reeling from the attack. "

Tathfheithleann was not the best at comforting others. If anything that was part of why she preferred to live alone. People-Problems are difficult to process, unlike her trade. That had clearly defined rules and boundaries.

"... Sorry that you went through all this," she murmured awkwardly. "Look... I-... I don't really know what to tell you. Advice isn't my thing."

She heaved a sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"We'll-... Get you a place to sleep in the village."

Dehzrehn shook his head.
"Sorry. It seems all of my problems got dumped on you." He frowned then peered over at her."I'm afraid I haven't got much money on me." He was wondering how expensive an inn might be.

Tathfheithleann mused over the boy, a mix of concern and mild frustration on her features. He explained that he felt remorse for the Dryads dumping him on her, and that he had little money. Strange for a lord, the Halfling thought.

"Look, don't worry about money, yeah? There's plenty o' work to be done in the village," the woman said reassuringly. Or at least, that was the intention. "C'mon, I know a guy with a spare room."

The little mage brushed past Dehzrehn and went up the stairs and through her storefront.

"You can stay with him until I get an extra room built for you," she called over her shoulder.

The village was abuzz with rumor and gossip; word traveled fast after all. Tathfheithleann made her way down to the beach and found a quaint, cozy-looking beachfront cottage. Or at least, that's what it would be if it wasn't surrounded by fish and half-finished boat hulls. A Dwarf, brawny and stocky even for one of his own kind, was hard at work carefully cutting two pieces of a hull to join together. Fishing boats needed little iron or nails, luckily. Old-fashioned carpentry would do.

"Arngrim!" barked Tathfheithleann. "Arngrim!"

The Dwarf nearly struck himself with a carpenter's hammer; but experience taught him better than to take a swing when looking away from his work.

"Hah!? That little Honey's voice!?" he roared.

"Aye, and you're still deaf as a stone!" Tathfheithleann roared back.

The Dwarf laughed and lumbered over to the Halfling and heaved her up in a warm, but surprisingly delicate hug as not to crush the poor thing with his might. He set her down, but stopped his pleasantries to size up Dehzrehn with an appraising eye.

"Hrrrm... Who's the skinny kid?" Arngrim rumbled thoughtfully.

"It's a-... Long story. I'll tell you later," Tathfheithleann said wearily. "Can he use your spare room? I'll pay the cost."

"Cost? Girl, you've pulled me out of a bind more times than I can readily count! O' course the lad can shack up here!" Arngrim bellowed. "Just as long as he doesn't mind my racket!"

The Dwarf turned and trundled up to Dezrehn in heavy, plodding steps. He offered a brawny, thick arm and calloused hand to trade grips with the young man.

"Name's Arngrim, lad! But most everyone 'round here calls me Uncle Fishbeard," he laughed. "What's your name?"

When Leann lead Dezhren along, he couldn't help but note the looks and hear some of the subtle gossip in the town. Was it really that big of a deal he was there? Then again, recalling how he had appeared.... He tried not to dwell on it. People would always be curious sorts, and he was 'the new guy'. He was probably the biggest news the place had seen all year. And could he forget his ethnicity? He was painfully Connlaothian and stuck out like a sore thumb at the beach town.

When they approached the beach front cottage, the young man felt humbled by it. It had a homely sort of feel and as he watched the dwarf at work, he could just see by the way of things, this was his life. And as the pair interacted, he held back, remained politely quiet and nodded before exchanging grips with the dwarf. As expected, it was a hardy introduction.

"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance. My name is Dehzrehn Draven, and I'm more than humbled you have offered up your home." He bowed as any proper young Connlaothian lord would, and raised his head, and both his brows at the nick name.
"Fishbeard?" He couldn't help but smile, and chanced a glance over at Leann.