Victorious advance

[Anastasia]

Then come. We await you.

Ahead is a forest stream, a simple footbridge over it manifesting in a moment. It is a bridge of the finest wood - your keen eyes lets you see it is tiny branches woven together by the hundreds if not thousands, rising from the ground like tiny trees.

[Ebiris]

Better to talk in person than like this, she agrees. Walking towards the stream at a steady pace, she slides her hand over the guardrail of the bridge as she climbs over it, appreciating the inherent artistry in weaving natural materials so.

[Anastasia]

Yet as you cross the bridge, night falls. Darkness falls as the bridge stretches on, farther and farther onward. For a moment all is darkness, all is the night.

The light of the moon shines down, illuminating the bridge ahead with silvery rays. From one of those rays she emerges - a tall elf with skin gray and pale, head bowed deeply as she emerges. She is clad in a gown worthy of a highborn wedding, made of the moonrays and glimmering reflections of the sun's light. A veil hides her face as she stands there and a bouquet of white flowers are in her hands.

A whispering.

A flickering.

Images. Of battles seen from far away and above. Battles seen. A battle against a dragon in the icy reaches before titanic mountains that claw at the sky. Your battle. Seira's battle Demedais's battle.

As you remember that, the figure approaches and presents you the bouquet.

[Ebiris]

Is this Sehanine Moonbow? Just to check since namechecking someone wrongly would be a bad faux pas.

[Anastasia]

You can't fail the K:R check. It is unless someone's doing an excellent imitation of her.

[Ebiris]

Girded in armour and carrying a weapon over her back as she usually does, Alicia is a figure of martial promise though there's no threat in her as she meets the gray elf. "Well met, Sehanine Moonbow," she greets, reaching to take the bouquet. "I remember that battle well, our first journey to the edge of the known world, before Seira even named those mountains."

[Anastasia]

The flowers smell lovely, bringing to mind memories of the full moon over Kelara. A moment of memories, memories far and memories wide. Memories of watching down from far below.

A flicker.

Far below, a woman mourns. Her tears are shed and she heads east.

A flicker.

Battle. So much battle.

A flicker.

She will be magnificent, Sehanine. Watch her from above.

A flicker.

Sehanine Moonbow drifts away from you, dissolving into moonlight, leaving behind the bouquet in your hands and nothing else.

[Ebiris]

Ahh, nostalgia. Dreams of battle... she remembers being an ignorant youth, dreaming that she'd be a great duelist, a sword master, fighting for honour and glory.

Finding peace for a time, forgetting battle... only to have it returned to her in her idleness. Losing herself in battle to push aside the dreams of what she'd lost.

Eventually finding peace, moving on with her life and finding other reasons to fight, ever escalating. Battle hasn't changed, but she has.

She smells the flowers a moment longer before continuing on.

[Anastasia]

Across the footbridge you go and into the light of day.

Here amid the forest sits a grand table, of a dark, deep and rich wood that is so polished it shines like metal. Here countless thousands and thousands of elves sit and feast, the table stretching past the miles you can see in either direction. It is a scene of celebration and plenty, no sign of winter or trouble here. Yet dead ahead is the center of the table, where three figures sit.

The Elf Father is a beautiful male elf, so beautiful as to verge on appearing feminine. His long, blonde hair is magnificent and he drinks from a chalice of wood and jewels. Sitting at one side is Sehanine Moonbow, head still bowed in faraway thought. At this other side is Amaryl, gracefully eating a dish of berries of and glazed meats, smiling away as she laughs at something you just missed Corellon say.

"Friends of wood and the forest," Corellon rises, raising his jeweled goblet up, "As we greeted our friend and sister Amaryl Gaial, let us greet a brave warrior who has saved elven lives and fought the darkness that lurks in the heart of the night. Welcome, Alicia Reynes!"

A cheer goes up from the elves, a wave that never seems to end.

[Ebiris]

It's only her avatar, but still she stands tall and projects her presence and surety to the elves welcoming her, wanting to give everyone a good impression that justifies those kind words.

"I thank you, friends of wood and forest," she says, voice carrying over the assemblage and heard beyond the cheer. "Ever am I glad to be among those of elven blood to lend you my strength and share in your joys."

From there she walks towards the feasting table and its centre where the divine sit, still holding the bouquet of flowers she was given. "Your hospitality is appreciated, Corellon," she bows her head respectfully to the host, before smiling at the woman on one side that she hasn't already seen today. "And it's good to see you here, Amaryl. You're looking well."

[Anastasia]

Amid the cheers back Amaryl stands, "Come and join us, it's good to see you. We're just talking about the war," she says.

Corellon lets the cheers go before sitting as well, a chair appearing next to Amaryl.

[Ebiris]

Floating over, Alicia sits down next to Amaryl. "All goes well?" she asks, inquiring after that before she gets to her own business.

[Anastasia]

"All is well," Amaryl confirms, putting down her fork. "Is all well in Sylica?"

"Sehanine sensed turmoil there," Corellon speaks up here, "Yet if you are here, all is well or you come for aid."

[Ebiris]

"A demon horde marched on us from Ysgard, it was defeated without incident," she says in a reassuring tone, looking down the table at the three elven deities. "However during the battle a single agent snuck into Sylica and attacked my sister. He was a warrior of great skill to be able to wound her, though only a single blow was struck before I felled him. And that is where the mystery arises," she begins to explain her reason for being here. "His native talents were bolstered immeasurably by the spellwork of Violet, one of Malcanthet's Radiant Sisters. Given a solitary compulsion of sneaking into Sylica and attacking Jessica's family, he has no memory and few inclinations of his own. A victim of the River Styx, we believe. With no clues as to the man's identity or history, we're left with the most simple basics for discerning his past: He is an elf."

[Anastasia]

Corellon listens to this all, "And thus," he concludes, "You come here to trade on that one fact?"

"That..." Amaryl begins, "What vile magic is that?"