Zevran, who had been listening to Zoltan's smooth negotiation, couldn't help but chuckle softly. He crossed his arms, glancing between Camlen and his silver-tongued friend.
You see, Camlen, Zevran began, leaning casually against a nearby wall, this is why I let Zoltan handle the talking. He's much better at all the... diplomatic nonsense. His tone was light, teasing, though his eyes remained sharp as they locked onto Camlen’s.
Me? I'm more of a straightforward kind of man. You want us to leave? Fine. We can do that. But I’d much rather avoid any unnecessary... unpleasantness, wouldn't you? He shrugged as if the stakes were no higher than a casual stroll.
Zevran grinned, his charm as effortless as ever. So, what do you say? Zoltan talks, you listen, and I... well, I’ll just keep admiring your fine craftsmanship. He gestured to the maze around them, then winked. We all win, yes?
At his refusal to shake her hand in greeting, Megara withdrew it, returning it to her side. Camlen had spent too long alone, his paranoia only encouraged by the imposed isolation in an effort to hide away. The others tried their hand at appeasing him, but Megara knew this would only insight him further.
I can prove it, she’d announce. I can prove that we’re not agents of the All-Father. Again the short elf stepped forward, pulling the strap of her satchel off a shoulder as well as her staff to rest on the ground. While he’d maybe observed her magic from the shadow, the point was to encourage the man that the group were no threat to him.
Now. I am trusting you with this information. Remember that. her finger pointed before the hand again returned to her side. Inhaling a few deep breaths, Megara allowed the shard to resonate, assuming control over the healer with a distinct change in posture. One green eye remained as the usual elf’s hue, while the other shone, glistening with an aura of authority only made more definite when the woman opened her mouth to speak.
“Who dares delay those who seek to help the wounded? the cadence was not Megara’s, the tone older, diminished, but the power of Sylaise was undeniable. It pressed against the hermits' domain, testing its resolve with confidence yet leaving it intact.
"Speak your reasons, and I will not tear your hearth from under you."
Camlen’s eyes widened, his entire demeanor shifting as soon as Megara’s voice—no, *her* voice—rang through the air. His body went rigid, the ancient elf mage taking a step back, away from her, his face a mix of awe and horror. He knew that voice. He had heard it countless ages ago, when the world was still young, when gods walked among mortals.
Sylaise… he whispered, his voice barely audible, though it carried the weight of centuries. His fingers trembled as he instinctively brought them to his chest, a gesture of reverence mingled with fear. The cat that had been guiding them all along sat perfectly still, its eyes glowing softly as it gazed up at Megara—no, at the goddess who now spoke through her.
Camlen swallowed hard, his mind racing. He had spent ages hiding from Elgar’nan, carefully weaving barriers and illusions to shield himself from his wrath. But this—*this*—was something he had not anticipated. To face Sylaise herself, in this mortal form? It was a sign, an omen he could not ignore.
Slowly, carefully, Camlen knelt on one knee, bowing his head in submission. His earlier suspicion and hostility were gone, replaced by the quiet humility of one who knew exactly who stood before him.
My Lady Sylaise, he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. Forgive me. I did not know you walked among us once more. I have kept to my exile, hidden from the wrath of Elgar’nan, protecting this sanctuary from those who would tear it apart. I... I did not mean to obstruct your path.
His eyes flickered up to meet Megara’s glowing gaze, though he quickly averted them again, not daring to look directly at the goddess who had once walked beside the People.
I sought only to protect myself from those who serve Him, those who would bring ruin upon me for the crime of existing. But if you have come with these... mortals, then I see now that my caution was misplaced.
Camlen paused, his hands trembling slightly as he placed them on the ground in front of him, palms flat in an ancient gesture of supplication.
What would you have me do, My Lady? I am at your service, as I was in the days of old. If it is your will that I aid them, then I shall do so without question.
The ancient elf kept his head bowed, waiting for Sylaise’s next command, his heart pounding in his chest. He had evaded the wrath of the gods for so long, but now, in this moment, all of his fears seemed insignificant compared to the presence of the goddess standing before him.
Diplomat/Ambassador representing the Dwarves and Tantervale
Played by: bach
Zoltan observed the dramatic shift in Camlen’s demeanor, and a bemused smirk curled on his lips. The ancient mage had gone from paranoid recluse to reverent devotee in a heartbeat, all thanks to the sudden *appearance* of Sylaise through Megara. Zoltan, ever the opportunist, wasn’t about to let this moment slip away without a bit of amusement.
Ah, well, this took an unexpected turn, didn’t it? he remarked, casting a glance at Zevran with an arched eyebrow. One moment we’re pleading for our lives, the next we’ve got a goddess on our side. I have to say, the odds are looking better than they did a minute ago. His tone, though light, carried the weight of someone who never missed an opportunity to seize advantage in a delicate situation.
He stepped forward, hands outstretched in mock surrender. Far be it from me to interrupt this divine reunion, Camlen, but if Lady Sylaise here has vouched for us, I’d say that clears up the trust issue rather nicely, wouldn’t you agree? His voice was honeyed, the charm of a man who had talked his way out of many dire situations before.
Now that we’re all on friendlier terms, perhaps we could focus on the more pressing matter at hand: surviving. You, dear Camlen, have the benefit of ancient wisdom and a maze of defenses. We have... well, we have this charming little band and a goddess on speed dial. Together, I’m sure we could come up with a solution that doesn’t involve anyone’s hearth getting torn apart. He shot Megara a wink, fully aware of how surreal the situation had become, but playing along with the grace of someone who thrived in chaos.
Zevran watched the unfolding scene with a raised eyebrow and an amused smirk tugging at his lips. The way Camlen had transformed from a paranoid, ancient hermit into a reverent follower at the mere mention of Sylaise was almost too perfect. Zoltan’s sharp wit and charm were doing the heavy lifting in this bizarre situation, and for once, Zevran was more than happy to sit back and enjoy the show. Diplomacy, after all, wasn’t his specialty—he preferred handling things that involved less talking and more… well, stabbing.
Well, this is quite the turn of events, he muttered under his breath, his golden eyes flicking between Megara and the now-kneeling Camlen. A goddess walks among us, Camlen grovels, and I haven't had to lift a blade. A rare occasion indeed. His voice was light, teasing, but there was no mistaking the glint of calculation in his gaze. He knew when it was time to let others take the lead.
Leaning casually against the stone wall of the maze, Zevran flashed a grin at Zoltan. Ah, yes, our silver-tongued friend makes an excellent point, Camlen. You have wisdom, defenses, and perhaps a wealth of knowledge we might find… mutually beneficial. Surely, there is no need for threats when we could all walk away from this better off, no? He shrugged with an easy grace, crossing his arms as if he were merely suggesting a pleasant afternoon stroll, rather than negotiating with a paranoid mage and an ancient goddess.
"Elgar’nan has arisen, why would others not awaken to challenge him?" Sylaise chided, "And a sanctuary should support many, not leave them abandoned outside its protection. You would bring shame to the Hearth?"
The scolding in her tone was even, the disapproval clear, but the essence made no move to tear down his seclusion. Her gaze wandered the glade as both Megara’s companions spoke, calling for the hermit to heed her words and aid their mission to retrieve what was lost.
"You will aid my host and her companions, and those who seek aid will be welcomed here. In return I will not cleave your hearth in two for your selfishness."
She had the power to, but temperance stayed her hand along with the understanding it would greatly weaken both herself and host. Sylaise was incomplete, her power limited, but not lacking in destructive ability.
"I will be watching, listening. Do not let me regret the grace I have bestowed so far." Her warning was clear, and with a final deep breath Sylaise retreated back within, returning Megara to herself again.
The healer shook herself, Ugh. I’ll never get used to that feeling… After adjusting and picking at her clothes she’d flash Camlen a wide smile. So… we’re looking for some lost supplies…
Camlen rose slowly, eyes widening as he watched the shift from goddess back to mortal in Megara’s form. He exhaled, his ancient shoulders sagging in a mixture of relief and resignation. The fierce presence of Sylaise had left him visibly shaken, her words still ringing in his ears as he adjusted to the humbling reality of her command.
For a moment, he simply stood there, seemingly lost in thought, then shook himself back to the present. He gave the group a begrudging nod, his gaze flickering between them, lingering last on Megara. His tone, though still tinged with wariness, softened as he addressed them.
Very well. If Sylaise deems you worthy, and if she’s chosen to stay my hand, then I have no choice but to assist you. Perhaps there is more to you intruders than mere bravado.
Camlen extended his hand, a shimmer of magic twisting through his fingers, and the maze responded to his gesture. Vines unfurled and stone paths rearranged themselves, opening a path deeper into his sanctuary. His eyes held a glint of both resolve and frustration, as if still grappling with his reluctance to trust them.
Follow me. I have safeguarded supplies here in case of... emergencies. Some are enchanted, and others may not survive the journey back unscathed, but I can guide you to what you seek. And know this—*every* move you make, *every* spell you cast will be within my sight.
As he led them through the maze, Camlen spoke in a low voice, as if to himself as much as to them.
A goddess awakening in this form... it is a sign, surely. Elgar’nan’s wrath grows daily, and yet... perhaps not all gods have abandoned us.
Zoltan gave Megara a conspiratorial wink, mouthing, "Nice work," as he followed Camlen with measured strides. Meanwhile, Zevran strolled alongside, hands clasped behind his head as he took in the enchanted surroundings with a playful smirk.
When they reached the hidden grove within the maze, Camlen stopped and turned to face them.
Take what you need. But heed this: disturb anything more, and you may answer to powers even *I* cannot control. His voice softened, almost a whisper. And remember—this sanctuary is my final refuge. Betray the mercy Sylaise has shown, and I will show you none.
With that, he stepped back, his sharp gaze watching their every move, though his expression hinted at something unexpected: a reluctant trust, fragile but present.
Megara took a tentative step forward, her expression warm and disarming despite Camlen’s guarded demeanour and tone. She clasped her hands together, her voice lilting with cheerful gratitude.
Thank you, Camlen. Truly. It means a great deal that you’ve chosen to help us despite our… bravado. Her eyes sparkled as she smiled, a deliberate attempt to ease the tension. You’ve done well to guard this sanctuary for so long. I’m definitely impressed.
Her tone softened as she continued, her gaze steady. You should know, Sylaise has not abandoned those against him, we work together in Arlathan. We do what we can. If Elgar’nan’s wrath grows unbearable, if your sanctuary no longer feels safe, you would be welcome with us. None should face such danger alone.
As they reached the grove, Megara looked around with evident awe at the hidden beauty before them. This is remarkable, she murmured. Thank you, Camlen. You’ve preserved something truly special.
Turning to Zoltan with an arched brow and a teasing smile, she gestured toward the gathered supplies. Alright, Zoltan, this is your wheelhouse. What inventory are we still missing? If Camlen’s gathered something of ours by chance, it’ll save us poking something Camlen doesn’t want us prodding.
Moments later, Megara’s whole body stilled as a subtle shift came over her. Her hands fell to her sides, her head tilting slightly as if listening to an unheard voice. Her green eyes darkened, taking back on the otherworldly glow, and when she spoke again, it was not Megara’s voice that emerged, but Sylaise’s.
“There is something of mine here.”
The air around her seemed to hum faintly, leaves shivering in response to the unseen power. Sylaise’s gaze swept over the grove, sharp and unyielding as it fixed on Camlen. Though her tone carried an edge of steel, there was no malice in it—only a profound certainty.
Diplomat/Ambassador representing the Dwarves and Tantervale
Played by: bach
Zoltan, leaning casually against a nearby stone column, took in the scene with a bemused smile, one brow arched as Sylaise spoke through Megara once more. He brought a hand to his chin in mock contemplation, letting out a low whistle as he surveyed the grove and the tension swirling between Camlen and the goddess.
Ah, so there’s more to this story, is there? he remarked, his tone light and teasing but laced with the sharp edge of someone who missed nothing. A relic of yours tucked away in our dear Camlen’s treasure trove? No wonder he was so prickly about guests.
Pushing off the column, Zoltan stepped forward, hands spread wide in a gesture of good-natured deference. Don’t look at me—I’m just the charming negotiator here. But I do believe this is where our host has some explaining to do.
He turned his sharp gaze to Camlen, his smirk softening into something more akin to curiosity. Camlen, my friend, if you’ve been holding onto something sacred, now would be the time to come clean. Not just for us, of course, but for the goddess whose mercy has so graciously spared you.
Zoltan’s voice was smooth as silk, each word carefully measured to needle just enough without tipping into outright confrontation. He gestured vaguely to the grove, his eyes never leaving the ancient elf.
Let’s not let this moment sour the fragile trust we’ve built, hmm? I’d hate to see such a promising alliance crumble over something as trifling as a misunderstanding.
He gave Megara—Sylaise—a sidelong glance, tilting his head with a faint smile. And I imagine our goddess here isn’t particularly fond of being kept in the dark about her own belongings. Call it a hunch.
Falling silent, Zoltan stepped back slightly, hands clasped behind his back as he let the moment hang. He wasn’t one to press too hard when someone else’s patience was already stretched thin. Instead, he watched, waited, and kept his keen mind primed to seize whatever opportunity arose next. If Camlen squirmed under the goddess’s gaze, well, that was just a bonus.
Camlen stiffened at Zoltan’s words, his jaw tightening as the dwarf’s smooth barbs tested the fragile control he’d held onto since this encounter began. When Sylaise’s glowing gaze fixed on him, he flinched—barely, but enough to betray the storm of emotions brewing beneath his carefully maintained composure.
This sanctuary is my shield, Camlen said, his voice low and strained. My last refuge since Elgar’nan awoke and tore the world asunder. I built it to keep myself hidden—not for greed, not for glory, but to survive the wrath of a god who would see me destroyed for daring to exist.
His eyes flicked to the grove, and a shadow of something unspoken crossed his face. Regret, perhaps, or bitterness. He exhaled sharply, the weight of his choices pressing against him as he spoke again.
If there is something of yours here, my lady, he addressed Sylaise directly, his tone slipping into deference despite his frustration, it was not taken. It was... left behind. Unclaimed. Forgotten, like so much else when the world fell apart.
Camlen gestured toward the grove, the motion abrupt and almost defensive. I’ve done what I could to protect it, to keep this place intact while the chaos beyond raged. I didn’t know you would come looking for it. I didn’t know anyone would.
