A Musical Interlude

Log Info

• Title: A Musical Interlude

• GM: Whirlpool

• Characters: Aelwyn, Fidget, Harkashan, Reithak, Ravenstongue, Rune, Seldan

• Place: The Mythwood

Permission has been sought, and granted, for a trip into the Mythwood. With several reputable adventurers present, alongside the news of your discoveries in the Felwood proper, it wasn't that hard.

And thus you've been gathered together with a few elven escorts to head deeper into the Mythwood. Seems you're going to be taken to one of their settlements proper, starting from the Felwood Camp site.

It is recommended you bring a gift to share with the elves. Said gift need only be something you wish to share with them rather than something of any specific value.

Cor'lana Lupecyll-Atlon, having married into a Mythwood family, herself, knows just the trick. After all, her husband is the son of one of the Mythwood's diplomats, and the woman is dressed to impress in her adventuring robes. Within her hands is a particular bottle as she walks with the group.

"I brought along a bottle of my husband's homebrewed liquor," she explains. "Mildly magical, made in a small batch. This one he calls Night's Kiss--it makes the ceiling appear to be made of stars after you drink it."

Seldan, in truth, had had little time indeed to prepare for this journey, and it is only thanks to spells that he is able to swiftly clean himself, procure such a gift as might be desired, and then reassemble his kit and begone. His armor is, unusually, marked up with several long slashes that mar the pearlescent enamel, and the even features are marred with an angry red line from the middle of the right side of his forehead across the bridge of his nose, the mark of a recently-healed wound.

The gift he procured is a basket of jam-filled pastries, their making of Myrrish origin. "A fascinating beverage, indeed," he agrees. "Once have I sampled it, and it was fine work. I do not doubt that it shall be enjoyed."

Though Rune did not grow up in the depths of the Mythwood, she had lived much of her life on the outskirts in the trading town of Ylvaliel. However, delving deeper into the Sildanyari is something done only a handful of times in her life. As such, there is a certain level of anxious energy that comes with it, one hand fidgeting with her necklace as she follows the escorts.

Rune seems to be carrying a rolled up bit of parchment, tied with a ribbon. It is simple parchment and nothing particularly remarkable. It must be her gift, it seems. "I might need a wine tasting at some point, if it's quite that remarkable." Rune's smile is somewhat hesitant, but she clutches the parchment a little tighter with her other hand.

A rather large egalrin was already there with the rest of the group, standing a bit restlessly as she peered further into the woods. Reithak had various colorful fabrics draped over one arm, traditionally woven shawls that they had made them personally. "Never been into the Mythwood before! Should be a great experience, I think." The egalrin hums. "Don't worry, just keep an open mind and it'll be great!"

Waiting until the last minute to think of a gift, Fidget had finally settled on a jar of quality wood treatment and polish, excellent for keeping your bows and spears in tip-top condition, as she would explain to their hosts. Also good for shining up the stick that seems to be perpetually stuck up many Sil's butts, as she would not explain to their hosts, hopefully.

Honestly, she wasn't sure how much help she could be here, but she wasn't going to let them find out something interesting without her! So tag along, she will.

Gifts. Gifts are a complicated matter. Even when one doesn't have to consider the monetary value, there's a lot behind a gift. The idea of having something to share, means having something that at least has some profoundness to it.

What do you give to a society of people who have such immensely long lifespans? A community that remains alive for such an immense amount of time? He supposes, a community that remains so closed off, does not travel often.

As such, he has brought them spices. Not large amounts of them, but rather, a large range of various spices that are unique to Am'shere. They're in little stone vials, left open rather than sealing them, so that the mixed spicy scent can drift through the area as he steps forwards. It's intense, but intense in the same way one might enjoy the intensity of the scent of bread coming off of a popular bakery within Alexandria.

He remains quiet, as he approaches with it on offer.

Aelwyn didn't think so hard on the gift - even if the notion of not bringing anything of particular value was completely foreign to him. What worth is a gift without value? Still, he had been walking with a light skip regardless, apparently very amused. He had brought a fine silken half-robe; with many fanciful, reddish geometric patterns woven to it. A very different look for most people in Alexandria. It was wrapped in a long cord of rope.

A very strong piece of rope.

"Tch, Fashion always keeps the spirit up." The draconian rumbles in amusement. "Yet this one cannot think of the bread he has to deliver soon."

With your assembled gifts and a pair of twin, red-headed elves to guide you, you disappear into the grandeur and majesty of the Mythwood. The name is not unearned. The deeper you get it, the more grandiose and majestic it becomes. Like the Greatwood it is connected to by legend, the trees grow taller, the vibrant sounds of forest life all around you. The trails grow thick with vegetation, roots, and other hazards that you seem able to unerringly avoid, as if the forest itself were welcoming you rather than slowing your progress.

Or maybe it's the fact that one of the elves with you is a druid and he's using magic to make it easier for you to pass along these most secret trails.

It's probably that.

Either way, you're making good time, and the gentle forest breeze upon your faces is no doubt an invigorating experience.

It has been some time since Seldan has traveled a path like this, and yet - the memory of the last time he did so is not far from his mind. He travels in as much silence as a man in armor can manage, which isn't much, looking around him, torn between the peace and majesty of the place and the ghosts of sildanyar encounters past.

When he does speak, it is in fairly fluent sil, with enough accent to make it clear that it is a second language for him. He follows the guides without comment, doing as instructed.

Cor'lana keeps a wary eye out as they traverse the forests. While Pothy isn't with her this time, she certainly is aware that all manner of creatures can live in these woods.

"If some of you have not had the chance to interact with the fae yet," she mentions, "just on the off-chance that we come into contact with them, as they can dwell in these woods--do not give them your name if they ask you to give them your name, do not present them with cold iron if you wish to engage in diplomacy, and keep your wits about you."

Better safe than sorry. With that, she sighs lightly and looks to Rune. "Yes, you and Harkashan will have to come over for a tasting, I think," she says. "It's not the only one that Telamon brews." There's pride in her voice when it comes to her talented husband (in more than one sense).

As they continue deeper into the Mythwood, Rune's ears twitch now and again, catching sounds from around them as they move through the trees, following the red-headed guides along the path. Her blue eyes shift left to right and back again, the sense of wonder somewhat dulled by her own childhood experiences. It is hard be enthralled by a place you feel you have never been welcome.

"Our guide must be pretty skilled. It's usually a lot more difficult to traverse this part of the forest." It's an idle comment, perhaps simply not feeling quite comfortable being entirely quiet the entire journey.

She looks to Cor'lana at her warning, giving a nod of her head in agreement. Recent encounters have taught her much about such creatures. "A few more things to finish up in Am'shere, then we should be back for at least a few weeks. We'll visit." She offers.

Reithak Takes in the sights of mythwood as they go, stopping to appreciate some of the plants they come across. "Noted, then, hope we don't run into any dangerous fae, but if we do, least I'll have an idea at the very least." The egalrin hums. "I can only imagine how it might be getting through here, I've had enough of plants getting in the way for a while."

There truly is something unique about the Mythwood itself. The tall trees, the strange trails and hazards shifting around them. Certainly, the druid guiding them is helping expand upon the mysticism of this place, but still...

"Are you sure we should be making use of Telamon's supplies, when we just promoted a place of ales?" He rumbles teasingly to Ravenstongue. Ah, the optics of softskins. "And - I will be on my guard." He has experienced Fae before, but to know of their presence here allows him to be better on his guard.

There's a bit of a 'hrrrm?' as Rune mentions the roads being easier to travel today. But it doesn't take long for him to understand what she means.

"Ooh, Fae? That sounds fun. What if you give them your nickname? How about if you give them someone else's name? What about a nickname you just made up for someone else?" Fidget rattles of some questions for Cor'lana, "Can you make up a nickname for the Fae person? We should give them nicknames! Silly ones so people stop being scared of them." She starts mumbling quietly to herself, workshopping some good nicknames for any Fae they might meet.

"Tch, this one missed the promotion for TarRaCe. Or was that a private promotion?" Aelwyn asks and then flickers his tongue out, like the cheeky little sith-makar he was. "Fury and shock."

Still, he didn't seem to be too stressed out by entering the fae grounds for the first time - yet he knew it was very different, and in its own way, more dangerous than other places. On the other hand, every place carried its own little dangers, and he had seen plenty of them. He also had no sense of proper self-preservation.

"We are nearly there," says one of the twins.

Indeed, as he walks, the vines twist and rise up off the ground to meet him, forming a rising pathway, a set of stairs that climb towards a densely cloistered copse of trees which seems to be your destination. He disappears between their branches, expecting you to follow -- and follow you no doubt do.

It is here, within the gathered shelter of these trees and melded within them, you see the beginnings of the elven settlement, carefully built to be nestled within the arms of these great oaks, their branches twined together like out of a storybook to create walkways, shelters carefully constructed to fit into their nooks and crannies. Everything in symbiosis with nature, it seems. As the walkways grow broader and more able to support others, so too do the presence of other elves who come to greet you, welcoming you to their settlement, which they call 'Thneshys'.

"It is here," he says, "that our finest musicians are trained."

"The light of the Sky-Singer guide you and your people," Seldan greets in response in the sildanyari tongue, once he has stepped through, treading carefully upon the forming branches. Although his eyes light up in boyish wonder at the magic of the trees around him, still there is a hint of a shadow. "Truly the finest of places, then, to seek that which we would learn. I shall beg the forgiveness of all, and not attempt to sing."

"Simply say, 'You may call me so-and-so', with 'so-and-so' being the name you wish for the fae to call you, and they shall respect you as such," Cor'lana replies with a small smile to Fidget. "You must be careful when you offer them a nickname outside of that format. They may construe it as trickery and may consider it a spurning of hospitality."

When the group arrives in the settlement, Cor'lana steps forward of the group, curtsying deeply to show her respect. After all, they are very much guests here. Visitors who must pay the respect of hospitality that they wish to receive. Her violet eyes are awash in delight and wonder as well for the place that they have entered.

"People of Thneshys, I greet you and bid you welcome," she says, similarly in the Sildanyari tongue as Seldan does, although hers is fluid and smooth, albeit given to a poet's bend. "I am called Cor'lana Lupecyll-Atlon, and we are here in search of a song that is sung by the stairs within the Spire of Eluna." <Sildanyari>

The way that the Sildanyari people live along side nature had always called to Rune. It is a piece of herself that she will always feel somewhat apart from. Even so, that wonder lights in her eyes as she steps beneath the branches, following the guides into the settlement. As others begin to emerge and greet the party, this is where the half-sil shifts her weight, looking anxious as she holds her mother's necklace.

"We appreciate the welcome." Rune gives in Sildanyari, not quite so graceful sa Cor'lana, likely due to lack of use moer than anything else. "We've already found aid from the Mythwood to address the issues with the spires of the Felwood. So any further help would be greatly appreciated." It's almost a little too formal. Perhaps Rune just doesn't know quite how to interact outside of very specific formal gatherings that her father had trained her to attend. "I'm called Leirune Theran." She gives a very distinctly non-Sildanyari surname. <Sildanyari>

Reithak tests a few of the paths as they go, making sure the branches would support them, and finding things to be up to specifications, the large egalrin is barely able to contain their excitement at seeing such a place. "Oh, this is a wonderful opportunity! A whole town where musicians can learn and practice? Sorry I can't speak sildanyari, but maybe that's for the best so I don't ask too many questions." They state happily. "That and, well, we are here on important business. The more magically inclined may be better suited to fill you in, but, yes, we're looking for songs which you may recognize."

Vines shift and rise, and soon stairs take them to elven shelter. A place untouched, Harkashan hopes, by the dark and evil influence of the Felwoods. The way branches shift and weave in and out, creating a network of pathways is rather unique to this place - at least in Harkashan's experience so far.

It's a delight to behold, and Harkashan does turn a few times, looking up, taking it all in. His tail possibly getting dangerously close to thwapping some people as he turns.

When others come to greet them, Harkashan takes a moment to greet them back. Introducing himself as a Sith-makari Deathsinger, and explaining how to pronounce his name. Who knows how familiar the average Mythwood resident is with Sith-makar.

Notably, he actually is introducing himself in Sildanyari. There's an accent to it, and it lacks some of the finesse of the language - replacing some sounds with little hisses and churs of Draconian nature. But he's doing quite a good job for someone who doesn't speak the language very often.

A certain Half-Sil is at fault for him knowing the language quite this well.

Aelwyn joins the others with the introductions, bowing his head in a more fanciful way. Ribbons, worn and new, flare out as he straightens. "One can call me Dragoon." He introduces himself, before exposing his sharp teeth. "And this one shall eagerly wait for the music to begin." He then steps back, sliding behind the others to enjoy the wonders of the place.

GAME: Fidget casts Comprehend Languages. Caster Level: 3 DC: 15

"Okay", Fidget mutters to herself in Goblin-Talk, "That's quite enough words I don't understand." and she casts a spell to translate all this elvish into someone comprehensible. She mostly catches the end of Harkashan's pronunciation guide. That done, she's ready to move onto the meat of the discussion - getting to the bottom of the weird song in the towers.

She speaks up in tradespeak to one of the people Harkashan introduced himself to, "So, my friend Seldan had some clues that the song we're looking for might be, or might be related to one called Elassa's Joy. Do any of your people know that one and whether it has a specific meaning, or words? If it happens to be a song about curing curses with specific and detailed instructions, that would be even better!"

The mythwood elves seem pleased by those who greet them in elven. They would be, of course, though some are a bit more amused by it than others.

Finally, one emerges from the crowd, moving to grasp each set of hands, once, before she steps back.

"I am Telassa. Elassa was my ancestor. I know the song of which you speak. But why do you seek it, so? It has to do with the Spire in the Felwood in some way? Lanneia's Spire, yes? So the tales go. Come, come! We have much to sing of."

Sing of?

Oh no.

Seldan accepts the grasp, although his grip is gentle, and this is probably as well for the armored gauntlets he wears. "There is a secret within the Spire," he explains in his accented sildanyari. "The stairs themselves are music, but it is in my mind that the hymn is not itself Elassa's Joy, but one descended from or cousin to it. This secret would we unravel, that the Spire be freed from the Felwood's curse."

At the mention of singing, his eyes lower. "I sing my prayers, as we all do, but I have been bid as a boy to hush that the braying donkeys might be heard. Still will I sing, do you wish it."

Cor'lana's mouth presses together into a small line. Just for a moment. But then she smiles sweetly. It's an expression that reads: I knew I should have taken those singing lessons when they were offered to me for free.

"My singing is in the form of the recitation of poetry. But I will make an attempt at singing nonetheless," Cor'lana offers finally, bashfully. She goes to follow Telassa at her direction.

Though Rune doesn't understand Goblin in the slightest, she still gives the small, colorfully dressed magician an apolgetic look. "I'll see about giving you some basics for next time." She offers in a hushed common tongue. As of late, they have been needing the help of the Mythwood more often than not, so it seems likely they will find themselves back here, again.

Then, she is turning her attention to the woman who steps forward, grasping hands with a nod before taking in her own introduction. The fact that this individual is a descendant of the one who wrote the song in question seems important.

With a glance to Seldan, she turns back to the singer, "It's been a long time since I've sung anything, but if it helps, I'm willing to try." Though Rune takes after her mother in a number of ways, she never gave the time or training to her voice to follow in her mother's footsteps.

"Well, nice to meet you, Miss Telassa!" The egalrin greets, looking to the others, and back to the musicians. The large egalrin pauses, and awkwardly rubs the back of their neck. "Well, I appreciate the offer, but I said it before, I'm not much of a song bird. Could give it a try, though, but in a village of musicians, I just feel like I'd be bringing everyone down. Better with my hands than either of my voice boxes, that's for certain."

Harkashan seems to echo some of Rune's own concerns in regards to his musical abilities. Certainly, he's joined his Kin in song before. But Draconic is a very different kind of 'singing' than one might hear in these kinds of places.

"Much to sing of? I assume those of Thneshys pass down their history through bardship and rhythm then, instead of through other methods?" He actually sounds a bit curious about this. It isn't uncommon for history to be passed down through methods other than writing or 'blood' amongst Softskins, he's learned. But he'd not figured the Sil were prone to this.

Aelwyn tilts his head curiously. "Tch, now only if Bard was here." He takes in a deep breath, before he flashes his teeth at Telassa. "Don't test these teeth, lest you get the best of feet, for this one ain't lying about fire he's hiding. So sate yourself on the best of taps, when all those toeclaws go to rap."

Which seemed to be his very convulated way of saying he'll be just happy dancing, thank you very much.

Harkashan's words earn a tap from the girl on her own nose, as if he understood perfectly well.

"We are a house of music and prayer. It is here that we devise the hymns of our people, it is here that we plan the celebrations and more. Music is our life's blood, our culture and our history. The song of the wind through the branches, the rustling of leaves, the ambience of nature is our inspiration, as it would've been Lanneia's. So it seems we have a mystery on our hands and I will be very happy to indulge your curiousity, but first, let us offer our prayers to Eluna, to Ceinara, so that they might guide us in our search for truth, and give us the inspiration to find the answers we seek."

She leads one towards a larger structure which as it happens turns out to be be a cleverly designedm, tree-borne ampitheater, the ceiling made of woven branches with carefully placed gaps to help magnify and project sound.

Sung prayers in the worship of Eluna is a thing to which Seldan is no stranger, and many a night has he done so alone beneath the stars. In truth, it is more difficult to do so in company now than he might once have said. He follows, removing his gauntlets at least and stashing them in the leather knapsack on his back.

When he gets inside, he looks around him, this time with more open wonder and less wariness, then turns to the others. "I have no doubt that among the people of Thneshys is where we shall find the answers we seek," he tells the others in Tradespeak, then returns his gaze to his surroundings.

Cor'lana follows in with open-eyed wonder herself. In fact, there's something... warm and comfortable in her expression.

"More happy than I have been in recent memory to sing and offer praise to Ni'essa and Vaire both," Cor'lana says softly. "Vaire is the goddess I exalt, but Ni'essa is my husband's goddess, and so they both occupy a beloved spot in my heart."

Her hand indeed finds the spot on her chest where her curuchuil peeks out of the robes, touching the place where her heartbeat dwells. "I simply hope that my voice can offer something worthy of them both," she says.

The connection of this place to music and story seems to hearten Rune to the experience, easing some of that anxiety and allowing her to settle the necklace once more underneath her clothing. "Songs are memories." Rune mrumurs in tradespeak, as if she understood this all too well.

Following along with the others, her eyes and ears seem to still be trained to take in everything around her, knowing this may be one of her few opportunities to experience this particular settlement. Her head tilts back, taking in the amphitheater and then she settles to stand near Harkashan. The previous anxiety has been replaced with a bit of excitement. Songs and stories have always been a particular favorite for Rune.

"Hrrrm." Harkashan rumbles, in agreement with Rune, following whe girl as she guides them towards the large structure. Marveling once more, this time at the amphitheater. "I know a certain Gobbo who would be jealous she missed this." He notes, thinking of Simony for a moment.

Once arrived, he will join in said prayers, even if he is bidden to a different Dragon.

"Oh, prayers in song? Well, I can do that!" The egalrin enthuses. "Sounds real nice, and I'll happily take part in something like that."

Wandering along with the others, they hum to themself. "Well, I think if we all do this together, then that's what matters. Not everyone sharing a memory or prayer can be an orator after all, but that doesn't change the fact that they need to be passed on, right?"

"Singing? I...uhhh...sure!" Fidget agrees uncertainly, it's not the usual method of answering questions, but maybe it'll work? She follows along to find out what they have planned.

A fingersnap and a point to Rune.

"It is our collective memory we wish to stir. I would ask that you demonstrate the notes that these musical steps made for us, so that I can understand their relation to my ancestors, but first, we have a bit of a mood to set, and a bit of a get to know you. I wish each of you to sing for us! Sing a prayer, a memory, a tale. Sing something that stir you hear so that your inspiration burns bright! I will help you if you're not comfortable. After, I will sing the song in question, so that we might learn together." a warm smile fllickers across her freckled face as she picks up, from a storage area at the back of the auditorium, her lute. She strums it once, then nods to another elf nearby who has taken up the flute.

"We will accompany. We will feel what lays within our hearts. May we be guided by the fire within." She throws her arms wide, dramatically, with a playful smile.

This, to her, is joy, and it is a joy she wants to share with all of you.

GAME: Seldan rolls perform/sing: (2)+8: 10
GAME: Rune rolls perform/sing: (1)+6: 7 (EPIC FAIL)
GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Perform/Sing: (12)+10: 22
GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Perform/Oratory: (14)+23: 37
GAME: Reithak rolls perform/sing: (10)+0: 10
GAME: Fidget rolls perform/sing: (5)+3: 8

As it happens, Seldan had not been lying about his lack of musical talent. A light voice is his, with no training at all. The notes are imperfect, the key unsteady, but the tune is one that all worshippers of Eluna present will recognize at once - the evening hymn known in Tradespeak as the Greeting, that opens the evening prayers to greet the rising moon. It is a paean to Her, and to Her constancy, no matter what might have transpired. He keeps it brief, singing the short form only, and ends it with a very small, self-deprecating ghost of a smile.

GAME: Harkashan rolls Perform/Oratory+2: (18)+4+2: 24

More than happy to participate, Fidget's singing is bad, not only often off-key but seemingly intentionally chaotic, and the words are hard to understand. It seems clear that the goblin song is intended to be accompanied by similarly loud instruments and that there is a rhythm to it, but it may be an acquired taste.

The goblins have invented grunge.

As the group is bid to sing, Rune takes a deep breath, as if she were summoning up some measure of courage. Singing around camp fires or in groups is very different from drawing up something from her own heart.

Just as soon as that necklace had been put away, Rune draws it out again, holding it between her fingers. When it comes to her time to share, she starts humming a sound that has the distinct sing-song tones of of a lullaby. When her voice joins in, she isn't off-tune or even particularly bad, but there is a lack of condfidence there, causing Rune to be too quiet.

The song is simple: A mother sings to her child. She sings of a world that is unfair and cruel. Yet, she will be there. Open arms. A warm embrace. A certainty of safety. Of love. Of home.

And that is when Rune breaks.

Her voice cracks and she tries to clear it with no success. Instead, she rubs at one eye where moisture has dripped down along her tattooed cheek. Her voice just can't carry further, so Rune leave sit at that, lowering her head.

Rune had tried to sing the lullaby her mother had written for her, but there is too much pain there to push through. So it is left incomplete.

Cor'lana steps forward. She looks somewhat uncertain of herself at first. This is, after all, her first performance of sorts in this venue. But then she looks down at the curuchuil on her hand and she knows what to do. She knows what words to sing. She knows what names to exalt. She knows what brings joy.

"Now I take flight here in the summer day

And I fly at night in the passing breeze,

For my wings lay dormant deep in my soul

Where I free them with my words ablaze.

And where now I behold Ni'essa's stars

And Vaire's light burns hard in my heart

I cry out here in no uncertain tone:

I am the Feathered One's child, always and now!

I am my late mother's child, forever and now!

I fly on His wings,

I fly on Her magic,

I fly on Their song

Because I am once and forever all the dreams

That they once dreamed,

Because I am once and forever all the hopes

That they once hoped,

Because I am here because they lived

And I am here because they loved.

Hear my joy, hear my call,

I am who I am and none may deny it all."

Her words ring out proudly in rhythmic time and melodic sense, the poet doing her best to find herself at home here in the music and sound. And when she looks over to Rune, she opens her arms to her. Like she's inviting the fellow half-sil to share in these words, to derive from her joy the strength to make it through, for she finds herself overflowing in this moment--a serene smile on her face.

"Well, you know, I'm not good with singing. I'll try my best, though." The egalrin laughs awkwardly as she joins the others at the stage. "But hey!It's still fun, of course." Reithak does their best to whistle along, something that would not be out of place on a bright summer day's birdsong. Not entirely unpleasant, but nothing of note, either. The inquisitor pauses as the others sing, and she offers a large thumbs up and continues singing, a bit lower. The others would do their best after all, and birdsong was usually a compliment to an already pleasant day.

There's a deep rumble from Harkashan again, when asked to sing for them. There's an irritated flick of the tail from him. Singing is not something one does 'alone' amongst his people. And this is no the time for a dirge. He looks around, but as he already knew, he is alone here as Sith-makar. Certainly, one of his Skysisters is here, but such is not the same.

Flutes... flutes are not...

It'll take him some time to figure out what to do. But he is given time. Others sing before something is brought to the forefront of his mind. Rune sings. Or so she tries. She sings, until she breaks. As such, he steps forward when it has become clear that she can sing no more, his heart quivering to the pain in her heart.

He watches as the half-sil moves to accept Raventongue's hug after her moment of poetry passes, before approaching the two of them. Laying his arms around Rune, holding her, before motioning to a set of wooden stump seats. There's a few humms and whispers, as he garners their help on something...

Once fully seated, he begins. Stroking his tail along the ground, rather than tapping on anything. Creating a slithering sound as he begins to... drone. Humming through his nose at first, establishing a very simply growly humming harmony - before he begins to speak. Trying his best to sway his voice into a singing tone, but it still ends up sounding more like something spoken. Something more akin to an acapella. A song Rune will have heard in Draconic before, but Harkashan is trying his best to translate it to something those here can understand.

He sings of Warriors, standing Guard at the Fires of Am'shere. The humms and rumbles in his voice keeping an even cadence, followed by those tail-sways along the ground. Holding tight onto Rune's side as he sways a bit with the 'song'.

He paints a picture of a dark jungle night, of the importance of the flame keeping the jungles lit. Of the Shamans who step forth to put more fuel on the fire, and their own hymmns. Speaking of the Flames, giving the Hunters the light they needed to see the wild creatures of the night, as they move through the trees.

He humms of their combined Watch. Of the eggs they guard. Looking to Rune and Ravenstongue in between pauses. He continues to sing. Of the Hatchlings, who will one day garner a name. And that it is only through their watch, and the ever-burning Fires of the Children of Flame, that the Hatchlings will one day be named. Ending the song on the heavy tones of the eggs cracking, seeing the flames amidst the nights, but many more days of holding Watch being ahead before these cracked eggs' Hatchlings will bear a name.

Telassa listens and does her best to add a little musical accompaniment where needed, warranted, or wanted with her companion.

To Seldan's effort, nodding encouragingly along. She is nothing but not immediately respectful and interested in what he does. That self-depreciating smile, though, has her walking up to him and leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. It's a pointedly warm gesture.

Fidget gets stared at. She claps her hands together joyously as she sings her goblin song and then she simply points at her as if to say 'I see it and you have the approval you do not need from me'. It came from the core and that's all that matters to her.

Rune's effort simply leaves her briefly stunned. To have called upon such deep memories, despite her inability to finish, is enough to make her move towards her and seek to grasp her hands for a moment. Nothing needs to hbe said, simple understanding exchanged before she'll let go.

Cor'lana is stared at, wide eyes, her mouth forming a little 'o' for a time before she stands on her tip toes. "I remember hearing a tale of a 'feathered one' as a child," she muses. Oh no.

Oh no.

She says nothing else, instead, turning to the Egalrin and nodding along wiht them. The effort is again what she cares for, and she looks stirred by it. "I have always found the voices of the egalrin peoples to be fascinating. To carry such song within you..." She lets out a sigh of polite envy.

Finally, she turns to Harkashan, eyes wide as he takes his turn. Her hands go over her heart and she leans back onto her heels, rapturously enjoying his efforts, and that he's chosen to share something like this with her.

"...thank you," she says, "Thank each of you so much. I will now share the song of my own ancestor, that I might keep her memory burning brightly withi me, for we are never forgotten when others choose to speak with our voice."

A breath is taken, a strumming of her lute, and she begins to play.

It is a different song from the one in the spire, though it shares some notes in common. Yes, a common ancestor, to be sure. Song, punctuated by sharp notes that serve to enhance the words. Stomping feet are involved as well, and one can see where it might be played upon the steps, though a different hymn no doubt, as this one speaks not much of Eluna. Still, song, step, note to enhance particular words. That would be the pattern, that much seems obvious to you, and to her, based on your descriptions.

Seldan displays little more than self-deprecating amusement at the kiss on the cheek, but turns to listen to others instead. Although he says nothing, each gets attention in turn, he remains for the moment reserved, withdrawn even, until Telessa's melody begins to take shape. "A different hymn, I think, and yet is the way of it clear enough," he murmurs.

Cor'lana quietly wonders exactly how this village of Mythwood elves has heard of her beloved fey ancestor, but she doesn't have room to ask any questions about that. Instead, she observes and appreciates the song that is demonstrated for all of them. She leans closer to Seldan and nods, murmuring loud enough for the group to hear, "I believe I understand, too. I... Admittedly did not think it would be so percussive of a matter. Shows my musical training, or lack thereof."

She breathes in lightly. "Maybe I do need to get those singing lessons after all," she says quietly, before looking back to Rune and ensuring her fellow half-sil is okay with a worried, but warm, look in her violet eyes, quietly motioning for Rune to join her if desired.

Loss is a painful thing, and one that has come back to haunt Rune in recent days. You can feel that you've grown and come to grips with it, but when it stares you in the face, it makes those long-forgotten moments come back to life.

Thankfully, Rune has friends and loved ones that she can depend on. A tight hug to Cor'lana, and then she allows herself to be dragged against Harkashan. That old offer of comfort replaced with new ones, it seems. Rune is no longer alone. So when the singer comes to her, she is still glassy-eyed, but she offers a nod of understanding and an appologetic expression.

Then, she seems to simply fall to listening. Listening to the song that is offered, though different than what they might have expected. In the end, she takes comfort in Cor'lana and Harkashan in turn, and eventually seems to find some solace in that.

Reithak quiets down, and doffs her hat in a bow to the others. "That was great, all of you! Really, it was." The egalrin hums. "Thank you, it's nothing special, anyone I know could probably do it. It's the talent that one fosters that I think is real special, but that doesn't mean you don't stay proud of yourself at the end of the day."

The inquisitor takes a back step, away far enough to give the elf space for their performance, and they listen, smiling with their eyes.

GAME: Harkashan rolls Perform/Dance: (10)+3: 13

Harkashan remains seated with Rune for a while longer, making sure she can continue to gain comfort in his presence and warmth, while he listens to the elfin lady's song. The stomping indeed, appears to be of particular note. Listening to it, and recalling the tones they'd heard coming up the stairs.

It is curious that the song lent to them is not one that comes from a song to Eluna. But he has to agree with Seldan.

"Thank you, for your song." Harkashan answers Telassa. "And your hospitality." He adds, before standing up, and trying to repeat the pattern and the song both. He doesn't do that great of a job at it, but it's passable. But it's only through repetition that he can make sure it truly becomes part of his blood.

"It makes sense, though," says Telassa to Cor'lana, thoughtfully, "You ascend the steps. Each step is a step towards a reverential duty, so you would of course be percussive. Each step has weight, a weight which creates a tone, and a hymn to match. They represent something lost to us. We are going to have more work to do here. There are other songs of my ancestor, ones that are more religiously motivated, and other songs which descend from this apparently common ancestor. As artists, we do steal from each other all the time to make something new in our own voice, so with study, with reaching back into the memory of my people, we may be able to at least ... rebuild something from the pieces. We can work on this tonight, together, sort through the pieces. I am happy to help. Perhaps, too, there may be some evidence within the spires themselves of the hymns that were used. It may not even be the same in each of them. If it pleases you, I'd like you to remain with us for the night so that we can celebrate and wile away the hours in song and seeking."

Meanwhile, some of the elves are arriving inside. They're approaching Seldan. Each of them seems to be carrying something with them, which they give to him. Small, wrapped little icons of Eluna, figurines, and devotions.

He's slowly getting mobbed.

She coughs delicately once. "...and there is that. Much is owed to him." She's not going to interrupt her fellows, but it is something that will take a while to get through for the poor paladin.