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[Xanmyral]

Jewel nodded in agreement easily enough, eager both help out a cause against treacherous wretches and to shed his greenhorn ranking in the group, gained through lack of time at the guild and lack of training outside. The elemental has made himself quite determined to not be a burden due to his lack of experience. Of course, his opinion hardly meant the whole of the group, and he looked to them to see their opinion.

The earthen man was admittedly surprised at the human's dwarven speech. While he was most certainly better spoken in the language, he had a heavy accent the bard might recognize as a mildly archaic form of Dwarven.

"#Oh, uh--Yes, yes I speak Dwarven, it's one of my natural tongues. Sorry, I assumed you didn't know, I suppose a bad assumption in hindsight Trade Speak is just something almost everyone can understand, at least on some level, being derived from many languages and all that.#" The elemental apologized and passively defended his prior use of Trade Speak.

[I'm gonna assume the blade was handed over with the sheath.]

Jewel sheathed the short sword and held it on one hand at his side, his focus no longer on the wondrous material now. No reason to have the edge unsheathed around the fleshmeats, after all, would just make the poor soft-skinned fellows nervous.

[Rolepgeek]

[BETA | SOMEWHERE IN A DESERT NEAR DROW]

Daethwin laughed suddenly, sitting down on the sand in a similarly unexpected fashion, with little of the grace he usually had. "#Well, that's a relief. Good to be able to speak to you with some clarity, for once. Not your fault; really I'm the one who should be apologizing, making you speak the language of Trade all the time. I can probably explain what's happening more easily in the future then, especially if anything like this-#" the bard gestured at the elves, Thale, the dead, elf, the party, and then the drow again "#-happens again. By the way, what's that sword made of? Enchanted diamonds? Hope it won't break if I sing too loudly...#" The bard trailed off as if in thought, then suddenly remembered who they were the guests of and came to his feet with remarkable speed.

[Dremoran = ON]"Oh, my apologies, myself and my companions are still not exactly familiar with one another yet beyond the basics. I just found that our elemental friend can indeed converse in a language other than Tradespeak, with is a great relief to myself and likely he as well. I think you for the offer and the friendship, and hope to be worthy of your choice...Blue?" Daeth wasn't really sure what you called the elder of a tribe, or at least not this one...he seemed different from the others. Harder. Wiser. More likely to hit you in the head with the nearest wooden object if you misbehaved.

[Ross Vernal]

Despite being pretty hot and bearing plenty of superficial damage, Thales' armor was actually still rather sound. Sure, there was a jagged scorch mark in the side, and the both legs being a bit stuck, but it wasn't anything a good smith could bang out. As Rurail went towards the baked angelborn, a guard underhanded him a robe to make it easier on his hands.

"Understandable, and yes, that will do. So, friends. What can we do for you?"

"I and mine will not deal with the enemy, and you're an old fo-"

*pain noise*

"...Melech."

"I assure you that I am quite incapable of caring less about your opinion. Orange? Green?"

"The law must be upheld. Should any other clan-elf be operating under authority of a Red Clan war or peace chief, it is their duty to obey orders."

"Even if the order is treason?"

"It is easier to decide to hang tomorrow as opposed to hanging today."

"Well spoken. Friends, I suggest you avoid the Red Clan; you are assuredly enemies. Again, I ask: what can we do for you? Power, valuables, weaponry... maps? Supplies?"

[GrizzlyAdamz]

[BETA|Drow camp]

Rurail went to work on the armor.
The leather bits he could replace, but a couple of metal clasps...not so much. So he took half a second to inspect the armor and figure out how to best minimize the damage he'd have to cause to retrieve their comrade.

A snip here, a bang there, and the chest piece came free. Followed by the Backplates with their intricate wing articulations, and shortly thereafter one of the arms was loose.

Not wanting to coddle the guy, at this point Rurail hands Thales the robe and the small blade he was using, and then rejoins the group and the peculiar little elf they're all talking to.

[Remuthra]

The immobilized angel grimaced beneath his helmet and pointed a finger at Daethwin, perhaps a combination of weariness and some manner of sense damping his rage to cold embers.

With all due... respect, don't tell me what I should or should not do in Arnum's service. As one who is blind to His True Light, you can't possibly understand, but reckless measures are needed to preserve the faith, and I am the only one willing to do what must be done. Arnum commands that the spreader of lies be purged, and His will was made visible, no matter what your honey-tongued pretender may lead you to believe or your petty philosophy might dictate. Blasphemy, all of it, by His own command! Remember this one point from this discussion, however. Never threaten me, or question my faith, again. I yet saw your traitorous nature earlier this day, and if you attempt to slit my throat in the night you'll find my blade waiting. I'm watching you, heathen, so do not presume to betray I or this expedition.

With that, freed from his damaged armor, the battered angel stood and accepted Rurail's robe and blade, gathers his armor, and moves off-scene, presumably to lick his wounds.

[Rolepgeek]

Daethwin considered for a time. Standing up once more, remembering both Thales' words and the drow's, he walks back to stand nearer them. He had declined to respond to the angel-born; he would learn why Daethwin did what he did(hopefully), given time, or he would fall victim to his own zeal. There were more pressing matters to attend to. First, though, the bard translate what had been said for Jewel, in dwarven, as swiftly as was reasonable. Then he returned his attention to the "I have some suggestions for what types of aid we would most prefer, and I am sure my companions will, as well. But, first, it would please me to hear what we might be able to do in exchange for such generosity as you have shown us. Speaking of generosity, I do believe that I might help soothe the animosity present between ourselves and Red."

He turns to Jewel and speaks in dwarven quickly; "#Jewel, my friend, as much as I am loathe to ask this of you, could you please hand me the sword? You said it was Orichalcum, and glass no less?#" As he receives the blade, bowing his head gratefully as an acknowledgement, he turns once more and strides to the Red Clan leader.

[DREMORAN = ON] "I do not want us to be enemies, and I see no reason why we should be. Is it because I am human? Then you may strike me down, here, if you wish, as some small step in gaining vengeance for my race's cruel oppression of your people. With this blade, if you would like; I am sure you have many others of far better quality than it, but perhaps once I am slain, you might choose to bestow it upon a worthy lieutenant in acknowledgement of their prowess and rank. In any case, I think it should be yours, as it is the weapon of your true foe, from what I can hear. I have some knowledge in these matters, and I can say with confidence that Blue was not lying when he spoke of the sun elves' involvement, both from my own understanding of the mind and in seeing through lies, and in the fact that our angelic team-mate is not and has not been attempting to separate our ally's head from his body."

After a pause in which Daethwin looks over at the angelborn thoughtfully, he continues. "At least, he's not yet. I am fairly certain that somehow, at some point, he will find a way to be suitably offended. My apologies in advance, and also for any damage he's caused to your camp during the fight. If you wish, I could attempt to repair any damage he's done in such a manner. Unless, of course, you would prefer to slay me immediately, Red, though I hope my execution can wait until I've done what I may to make amends."

[smurfingtonthethird]

((Argh, completely missed a bunch of updates. I'll just go with the idea that I was restraining myself in the corner.))

You guys sure talk a lot. I have a few questions about where the sun elves live. Do they have a massive castle, or a tent city? Do they have thousand-man armies, or a small militia? These things are good to know before we go off and start killing... random... inno...cents... [1] Sylvari starts shaking. We.. don't... kill...innocents... do we? DO WE?!

[GrizzlyAdamz]

At this point Rurail reaches the group, saunters over to Jewel in a manner so as to avoid interrupting the conversation, and motions at the sun-elf's weapon.

[Xanmyral]

[BETA|RUINED TENT]

Jewel acknowledged Rurail with a nod and a hearty smile, happy to see things have gone better. He was about to expand upon the sword and its material's wondrous properties, but their normally-quiet ally Sylvari seems to be working himself up. He approached the man and spoke in a calming manner, or rather as calming a manner as a voice that is deep and gravelly as his could be.

"Ally, calm. No kill innocent, no honor kill innocent." The earth elemental pointed at the corpse of the sun elf with little pity for the charred corpse. "Quest-ally honor, no kill innocent." Jewel shook his head. "Help innocent. Help many, big quest, see land, adventure!" The earth elemental nodded, and expanded his arms to try and encompass the size of what they were to do metaphorically, with a big, cheek splitting grin on his face and stars in his pupil-less eyes at the thoughts of the many grand things they could and were to do. "All quest-ally be many hero." The elemental offered his gauntlet clad hand out for the half-elf to grasp, a human gesture he believes may help calm the man.

[Rolepgeek]

Daethwin looked over to Sylvari, hiding his momentary surprise at the man's presence; he had completely forgotten he was there, and Daethwin wasn't used to not noticing people. It was mildly disturbing...oh well. "Now, that probably depends on your definition of innocent. From the sounds of it, these sun elves have been manipulating drow and humans alike to provoke near-genocidal conflict between the two. Now, are we going to go off and slay them to the last man, woman, and child? No, much as a certain member of our party might wish to. Cut the head off the drake, and the body will follow it as it falls."

He made no move other than that, hoping to avoid provoking Red into truly cutting him down, rather than simply calming down and hopefully coming to their aid.

[Ross Vernal]

"Your flesh is not ours. You do not understand, even begin to. The heretic at least pretends to understand honor, in its own twisted way," Her expression indicated that she was tempted, though.  "however, you are quite welcome to kill yourself. I would even lend you a weapon for such purposes, and cast it aside after the deed was done!"

That suggestion was almost polite, and the woman grinned like a shark.

"Keep the trinket. It's my gift to all of you. Keep what you find; I am pleased by the prey trying to fight back. Makes things... interesting. As I hope your days go."

For a moment, her smile faltered, and then she sat back down, pinching and rubbing just above the bridge of her nose.

_{[Savokian Cult=ON]"Asking a warrior to not make war? Dolt."[Cultspeak=OFF]}

"I believe it may be time to retire to an area more conducive to our conversations, friends."

Assuming they did so, after some walking and entering a sudden hole in the ground, the party would find itself in a pentagonal-shaped room, crafted over centuries by elven magic until "opulence" would serve poorly as a descriptor. Each wall, although white, was illuminated by glowing torches on solid brackets. casting a color equivalent to the matching Clan; ridges and shapes caused the shadows to project moving images and symbols. On each wall, centered, was a large mirror.  Several impromptu shrines, some with obvious mechanisms on them, were laying about. There appeared to be a solid manhole in the middle of the room, displacing a fountain made of wood and obsidian.

More importantly, there was treasure. Not just gold and gems, but weapons, some with enough power to be felt from outside the room where the party waited. Anyone's heart, greedy or not, would be filled with sudden joy at the thought of "help" translating into "Here's a bunch of neat stuff, take what you like."

However, before even entering this room, they'd stop before a scale. With a thoughtful expression, the Blue Clan leader placed seven beads on the scale, then waved each member through one by one before adding six more.

"You are welcome to take, individually, a sum of up to seven thousand gold, or any item enchanted up to the fifth tier, or any combination of lesser items equivalent to the value. The scale will tell, so you may have to turn back should you pick up too much."

He laughed.

"Look carefully. Think. Should you penetrate the secrets of the vault, you may keep whatever you find of value. So speak the Elders of the Blue Clan and Red Clan. And, lastly, speaking personally, I desire to give aid to you all individually. Speak to me of your desires and I will do what I can."

[Remuthra]

His armor once again cloaking his frame and his shining two-hander balanced on one shoulder, Thales walked silently into the room. The heretical elves had said something about secrets. Secrets are the tools of blasphemers, used to hide Arnum's light, the angel thought. This was unacceptable; all would have to be discovered immediately. Raising a still-dented gauntlet to the vista, palm outward, Thales called upon his divine gifts to empower his senses, that his sight might be true, and deceived not by trickery.

By Arnum's light, the heathen's illusion perishes.

[Ross Vernal]

The spell would go off,  but aside from a slight shift in color on the walls and a winged pin, it wouldn't do much.

However, if Thales were looking at either the Red or Blue mirrors at the exact moment the spell cast, he'd see the faint tinge of silvery-blue lines indicating a hidden, locked, and trapped door.

If it were Red, there was a feel of aggression behind the door. Blue would have a feeling of Wild Magic strong enough to count as Elder Magic or Wizardry.

[Remuthra]

Beneath the helmet, the angel would smile.

Ah, I have you now. Companions! The mirrors hide doors!

[Ross Vernal]

"Locked, trapped, solid doors. We encourage thieves to attempt to rob our Vault provided they report the weaknesses. Several thousand years of security. Red would invite you to break the mirrors; to balance her out, I would illuminate you with the knowledge of two keys to turn."