As the gargoyle flies on down the street, Daisy turns to Dovienya, hands on hips. “Oh great! What exactly did you DO in there anyway?”

Dovienya had been digging through his pack pulling out alchemical supplies, but he stops for a moment to look at Daisy, a flash of anger in his eyes.  “What did I do?  I was talking to the Wardens.  After being invited into the barracks.  I was about five minutes away from getting them to help us track down Trimphid. What did you do?”  Without waiting for an answer Dovienya turns back to his reagents and begins crafting an elixir of some kind.

“What did….?!” Daisy sputters. “What I did was rush over here because you both went off without so much as a note or a by your leave, and everyone saying ‘boy it sure has been a long time since they left…’ And then that thing,” she jabs her finger at the gargoyle, “goes off on how an army of wardens all ran into the building after you, and…..and….” Here her voice goes croaky, and she cuts herself off.

“Fine,” she rasps under her breath. “Let’s just go….do what we’re here to do.” And with that, she rides off after the Scrafe, not looking back to see if anyone’s following.

Nim makes a pretty undignified noise like a squeak, and then sputters for a moment after Daisy. “And she’s gone…” she says to the empty space where Daisy had occupied until moments ago. She turns to Dovienya and regards him with a sad, defeated look.

Faced with Nim’s defeated look Dovienya’s self-important confidence deflates slightly.  “You’re right.  She was trying to help us in the best way she knows how.  And who knows, it’s possible I wasn’t going to be able to talk our way out after all.”

The gargoyle swoops back down to Nim and Dov to say:

“Stop talking and MOVE THOSE LIMBS! The Court’s just over here!”

The two of you hasten to catch up to Daisy.

The gargoyle leads you to a white spire in the central of Tupelu. This is the entrance to Tyslas Thysaer, the Elven Court. It’s a giant tree without limbs or foliage, thinning in the middle and then widening again as it reaches a severed flat top, forming something of an hourglass shape. In its bark is carved relief scenes of elven history, and its base has been rendered into a grand staircase leading to a wide opening, with gray curtains concealing what’s behind like a theater stage.

Several solemn servants in Ruthorian house livery gesture you over on the street nearby, silently hand over the rest of your gear, three scrolls sealed with the Ruthorian house sigil (your passes), a hastily scrawled letter from Ruthorian, one of those Tupelan hens, and a special night-black bag tied with silver cord.

The letter reads:

Entering the Court now is the only way I can keep the wardens from you and protect myself. I need you to still perform tomorrow. Until then, you are on your own. Tyslas Thysaer is where the elves go to play as gods, and you will be mere mortals in this realm. Tread with care: I have little power to protect you. Speak only Elvish. Tell anyone who asks that you have been “honored with an invitation to glimpse Osina Sarrazin’s beauty” and let them direct you where to go. The hen is for her, appeal to her vanity. When the time comes tomorrow, servitors will bring you to the performance space I have set up. The wardens will likely try to ambush you afterwards. Wait for more instructions at the soirée – I hope to deliver then the means to our mutual friend. My staff here have your credentials, and in the bag the necessary tributes that you’ll need for entry. Do not look in the bag. Destroy this letter.

Scrafe saddles up to Nim and hands her two twisterstones in a confidential manner :

“You’re the only one with any sense in this heap.” [gestures to Daisy and Dov]  “Hold on to at least one in case you’re caught by the wardens. Tell ‘em you was the one who set the twisters loose in the barracks, yes? Keep my master out of it. The other one’s for you to use at your discretion and ‘scrimination.“

He winks, then flies away for good.

At the gate, a single hooded elf emerges out of the shimmery gray cloth – his cloak is formed out of and still connected to the curtain.  He takes your credentials and reads them, takes the bag, peers inside quickly then snaps the bag shut. He then looks up,  examining you each in turn. He asks about the hen and the dog. Ambrosius gets a special bond to Daisy.  “It is necessary. The animal will be linked to you in Tyslas Thysaer,” the gatekeeper explains.

The curtain is parted and you enter the Court.

You wander this strange place which seems to go on forever. Is it on another plane of existence? There are ballrooms filled with trees, some filled with a mix of marble and luscious forest vegetation. Sometimes the trees look like they’re made of glass;  sometimes the hallways have no walls and there’s only the sight of meadows and flower-filled glades on each side.

At one point, you encounter a group of wandering elf nobility, drinking and carousing.  When they see you, they are immediately fascinated, putting full attention on you for their next diversion. Nim they ignore entirely – a half-elf Khian-Tian commoner.  But Dov they try to buddy up with, telling him they like the cut of his jib, offering him a thousand gold for his clothes.  If not that, then 200 gp for his hat. Daisy and Ambrosius, they find hysterical.  The drunkest and most obnoxious of them gets on all fours and offers his back for her to ride.

Dov perceives the most sober of the lot and asks for directions to Osina Serrazin. The elf nobleman haughtily agrees to divulge but only if Dov relinquishes his hat, for it will amuse his friends to no end and give him bragging rights for 100 years, or so he claims.  Dov reluctantly hands over his hat, and the elf summons a Servitor, an animated crystalline statue, who leads the three of you away from the carousers to Osina Sarrazin’s glade.

After introductions are made to the eccentric vain aristocrat, and a certain Tupelan hen is bequeathed to sweeten the relationship, Osina invites you all (not that you have a lot of choice) to participate in her elaborate tableaus depicting mythological scenes for the entertainment of her banqueting guests.  Everyone’s to take part, that is, except Ambrosius, who is treated like a prince and given a place of honor in the audience.  Osina is particularly excited about Daisy, insisting that she dress as Edwar the Red Dwarf, a famous dwarf villain from folk tales, in each of the tableaus, even when he doesn’t fit the scene.  Eventually, you’re all able to get a break and rest up for the night in her stables (many of the tableaus feature horses.).

While settling down, Daisy discovers a clockwork cricket among her things – maybe fashioned by Pobody?  Did the thing hop on her when she was waiting around in his potion shop?  Nim says it’s magical. It apparently has silence-making powers.

Before you all go to sleep, Daisy tells you of Pobody’s discoveries about her sword.  “It kills dragons,” she says matter-of-factually.  But it requires a special command phrase to start being magical. And Daisy, failing to connect the dots, has no idea what those words should be.

The next morning, one of the crystalline Servitors arrives to accompany you all to Ruthorian’s performance space.  Upon arrival, you are handed a sack, containing:

• Two costumes: a Green Maggs that looks like it fits Nim, and a Twig-Monster to fit Daisy;
• A small shovel;
• A statuette of a tusked creature (one of Ruthorian’s);
• and a note from Ruthorian, which reads:

I regret that I cannot attend. Though we miss our dear friend, I suggest for good luck you tear his note in three and each take a part; keep the remnant close at hand. After your performance, look for my regards from Jewel Eye, a most ardent fan.

 

You still have the note from Trimphid, so your rip it in three and distribute it among each other. Then you prepare for your performance.  Nim, disgusted with the idea, is not interested in being Green Maggs, so Dov drinks an elixir that makes him magically resemble the hag, and puts on the costume instead. Daisy wants nothing to do with a Twig-Monster costume and leaves that in the sack.  Nim, meanwhile, acts the part of the Narrator.

The performance goes reasonably well. Nothing spectacular, but Daisy does an adequate job playing her heroic self.  Dov really hams it up as Green Maggs; truth-be-told: not to be his best work.  More a work of melodrama than a documentary. But the audience is forgiving and you receive appreciation and praise at the close.

During the post-performance reception, there is buzz that the wardens are waiting outside. An agent of theirs drills each of you about Dov – wondering where he is, but since he is disguised as Green Maggs, the fugitive manages to escape the attentions of the Law for the time being.

During the hobnobbing, an elven woman with a bejeweled eye-patch approaches and passes each of you the petal of a certain flower. “Eat, sleep, wake, dig,” she says cryptically.  Upon eating the petal, each of you has a fit, collapsing to the floor and making quite the scene. You black out and awaken much later in some kind of a recovery room – Ambrosius is there too (linked as he is to Daisy by the gatekeeper).

Once you’ve gathered your wits and your stuff, you remember Ruthorian’s shovel and Jewel Eye’s instructions and work together to distract the Servitors enough so you can dig a hole in the ground and jump in.  This, you discover, is a way to access the Court’s back stage area, the behind-the-scenes of Tyslas Thysaer, and “hack in” to the system (to use meta modern terminology). The Court is a magical entity of sorts that happens to log the entrances and exits of all its visitors, keeping this data stored somewhere in its programming, so by accessing its back stage, keeping Trimphid’s note remnant close and your desire to find him in your mind, you can trick the Court into taking you where Trimphid exited. Or, at least, this was Ruthorian’s hope.

The only problem is, none of you are full elves.  And Tyslas Thysaer is for elves.

So the Court has its way with you. Each of you has to deal with a fantasy dream sequence and use your willpower to overcome the magical realm’s hold on you…

After climbing down into the tunnel, Daisy suddenly  finds herself mounted on Ambrosius, her mind all a muddle as to what came before. She’s dressed in full plate – a full cavalier under the thistle banner, with a band of fellow halfling cavaliers around her. They are priming for battle. She has her sword and can feel its magic – and she is not afraid to wield it.

She realizes she is in Axla, the halfling homeland, and it’s just as she imagined from Nana’s stories.  A trumpet blares nearby. Below her, in the field at the base of a hill, she can see a horde of… orcs?  Another trumpet blasts, and all as one, the cavaliers charge. At this moment, Daisy fails to withstand the power of Tyslas Thysaer‘s security protocols. Her eyes gaze back up at the banner as her cavaliers race down the hill. Her thistle banner has changed!  Now it’s upside-down and looks like a dragon raining purple fire and terror on the earth below.

At the bottom, Daisy finds herself amid the carnage of her old village. It’s filled with fire-elemental halfling people parading out of a dragon’s mouth. Are they burning or celebrating?  This time she is able to will herself out of the situation. The scene changes and she finds that she is no longer riding on Ambrosius; all around her is darkness. Her trusted friend, however, is barking at her to follow a distance away. She goes to him and thus is led out of the Elven Court.

Meanwhile, Nim awakens in the Royal Palace of Khian-Ta. She’s dressed as the nobility of her people, and her mother is standing by her, gazing at her and looking proud. She places a shimmering rainbow shawl around her neck.

“Oh Nimaruna, I want to introduce you to everyone”, her mother says.  In the throng of Khian-Tian notables, Nim can see famous warriors and legendary hunter folk heroes in attendance. She feels like she belongs.

Everyone is expecting the arrival of the king, mingling, eating morsels brought on plates by servants. The food b looks delicious, something delicate, winged. Nim reaches to grab for one. Someone tells her what they are: pixies.

Nim, being half-elven, is better suited to withstand the Court’s mind-enchanting affects. She realizes she is in a dream and refuses to eat.  The King of Khian-Ta enters then, the whole crowd as one stops what they were doing, turns to face him, and begins to bow, genuflect.

Her mother, showing deference with the others, looks up at her. “Bow, child” she says sternly, and Nim knows doing so will please her mother.  But Nim is stronger. She doesn’t bow. The king’s face is not visible, but from his head Nim can see sprouting ink-black antlers. Her kin are all kneeling now, deeply prostrated before the king, deeper and deeper they fold into ground.  Nim stands alone, the one member of her people still upright, facing the antlered king in defiance.  At this, the world goes black and everyone around her bursts into stars.  After a moment of stillness, Nim traces the patterns of the fabric around her, until she finds there is a single star lit up more than the others. She floats towards it and thus is led out of the Elven Court.

Dov opens his eyes to his old prison cell in Farglad. Was his escape and adventures all a dream?  But something is odd about the walls:  they’re entirely made of books, stacks and stacks of them, all sizes and shapes. He pulls one out to read its pages, and the text is all about Dov, extolling his virtues and acumen. All the books are about Dov, he realizes. He desperately wants to read more, but his mind stays focused on the un-reality of this place, and he shakes off the urge.

Through a barred window in the cell, he can see it’s the capital city outside, but even the other buildings and roads are made of books – the whole city.  From outside, Dov begins to hear a song – it’s a ballad such as is sung about the Pure, only Dov is the subject.  Floating up to the window,  the severed heads of notable bards perform the ballad in harmony.  His cell door suddenly bursts open, and standing there is the goddess Brega herself.  “It’s time to go.”, she says.  “Come with me.” She reaches out her hand to Dov. He resists the impulse, grabs a nearby book, and hurls it at her.  Brega laughs, not unkindly, shrugs, and says, “Well, the door is open now, traveler”, and disappears.  Dov exits the prison, heads out on foot across the city of books about him, then beyond. As he journeys, the books become more and more blank. Using dream logic, Dov continues until he finds where the books are all about Trimphid, and here he finally exits the Elven Court.

Now fully out of Tyslas Thysaer, everyone wakes up to find themselves outside, on the floor of a jungle, under the stars. Ambrosius is there, too – tied to Daisy by the gatekeeper’s spell.  Near you is a cairn of stones marked with ancient Elvish. Dov examines the script and sees mention of the Elven Court. This must be a kind of obscure, forgotten gateway back into it.  The remnant of Trimphid’s note you kept is warm to your skin, and you surmise you must be at the exit point that Trimphid took, the Elven Court having dumped you here after entering its inner workings, its “back stage”. This jungle must be where he and Tumn entered, but the trail is too cold to track them. The most fresh footprints seem to be heading off in one direction, a crude path of sorts – so you take it.  It leads you to the silhouette of a giant hill against the night sky, rising ominously in the near distance.

Could this be… the Mound?

To Be Continued…