TEST DRIVE MEME #5

[fairyfoes]

TEST DRIVE MEME

Considering apping to EACHDRAIDH? Why not give the setting a test run here! OPTIONAL SCENARIOS 01. ARRIVING IN THE DRABWURLD. The Seelie and Unseelie courts welcome you with mirthful revelry and hearty food. After you have been briefed on your purpose here, you will find an endless feast and a night filled with entertainment to placate your concerns. Mingle with new arrivals, sneak down the castle halls and make sure your eyes are always on your glass; fairies and imps have no bias when it comes to tricks! 02. THE STATION. Looking for a little slice of home? The Station gives you all that and more. Take advantage of the wifi, have a cup of fairy-brewed coffee (the one they didn't spit in) or sit back and relax on the patio. You can even move your things into one of the available rooms! 03. WILDCARD. Your own scenario! Explore the Drabwurld or simply take advantage of your Locket!

Comments

[firith]

[ A figure standing alone is not enough to prompt an approach from him, but the twin swords catch Thranduil's attention. A dual-wield himself, he has an appreciation for finely crafted blades, yet even with the pointed ears of the Elf (Aelfen? So many of the native tribes are varied in appearance when they swear their allegiance) there is no great urge to address him at first glance. He waits until the figure is in the quieter coolness of the hallway, pacing outside into the stone corridor with hands loosely clasped behind his back and silver-gold robes trailing just enough to alert the attentive to his approach; startling the armed is never wise.

Coming to a halt by the open balcony to cast a glance down on the little lights of the bailey far below, he keeps the stranger on his peripheral vision. ]

Few fight on the nights of these feasts, and if they do it is a short affair between bloodied fists. You will not need those weapons until daybreak, at the very earliest.

[folklorish]

[ It's the crown he notices at first. The crown and the height and the coloring and, for a moment, Nuada can imagine this stranger is one of his own; an uncle or a cousin, once lost and now found. But the moment fades and Thranduil is not one of the lost Tuatha. Concealing his disappointment, he offers the stranger a polite bow of his head, acknowledging both presence and status in a single motion. ]

I have learned that one never knows when weapons will be needed. [ Golden eyes glance out at the balcony, the chin below lifting to greet the night breeze. ] But I will take your advice under serious advisement, your Highness. Are you a native here?

[firith]

[ Red leaves twined with berries for the appropriate season, Firith, lend a warmth to the crown that only translates to his features when he inclines his head in kind, a small smile of greeting fading as they both look out on the night. ]

No, my son is here. I left our realm of Eryn Lasgalen in order to stand at his side in Allaidh Darach when the opportunity presented itself. [ He gives a tip of his head to the corridors. ] You will see him roaming abroad tonight if you stay in one place long enough, perhaps, for he is restless at affairs of state and the feasts somewhat qualify.

[folklorish]

[ The leaves and sharper points are reminiscent of his father's crown, though Balor's is a twisting of branches that symbolize either the great Tree or the horned God, depending on which role is most needed at the time. But the familiarity itself is welcome, whether or not Nuada wants to admit it. ]

Another traveler of realms, then. There seem to be many of us tonight. [ A pause. ] Your son, does he resemble you? [ Because he ran into such a person earlier in the evening, and the sheer abundance of good-natured cheer is not easily forgotten. ] Tall, golden-haired, incapable of not smiling.

[firith]

[ Lips twitch before he can slide them back into a wry line. ]

Yes, that would be Legolas. My apologies if he trespassed upon you, he means well. [ Curious grey eyes linger on the stranger. ] My name is Thranduil, Elvenking of the Maechenibryth in the Southern Greenwood, formerly of Eryn Lasgalen.

[folklorish]

He is a wonder unto himself, I think. [ In other words, a bit overwhelming for someone who has spent several thousand years away from his own people. The prince may also be not a little envious of the pride in this father's voice. Certainly he has not heard such a tone from his sire since before the exile. ]

I am Nuada Silverlance, son of Balor, ruling king of the Clan Bethmoora and leader of the Sons of the Earth. [ His head dips into a second bow. ] Your Majesty.

[firith]

[ A 'wonder' is certainly one way to put it, far more delicately than Thranduil might. His interest piques, recognising Nuada as one like to his own kind in something other than appearance, the Sons of the Earth ringing faintly of Dwarvish leanings that he brushes aside; the people of this prince are like the Aelfen of the Drabwurld in that way, different but more alike than not to Arda's immortals. ]

You must come to I Othrann-in-Heneb when its delving is done, Prince Nuada. Legolas is my hand in gathering the scattered clans of the Elves from all over the Six Realms and they are offered sanctuary from the courts in my forming Halls. The welcome would be a hearty one if you tire of the war, Men, or simply wish to rest.

[folklorish]

[ If asked directly about it, Nuada would be more than happy to explain how his Clan is traditionally responsible for protecting all of the fae races: elf, goblin, troll, pixies, and so forth. So the Sons of the Earth encompass that defense. To be counted in their number means that the prince is responsible for safekeeping. Especially since his father and the royal court do little to nothing anymore about the encroachment of humanity into fae lands. ]

That is a very generous offer. It would be an honor to visit your home, when complete, and I look forward to the experience.

[ Doubly so with the prospect of no humans around. ]

[firith]

If the Six Realms are not assailed by yet more foul and fell creatures, the invite will stand as a simple one. My Halls are deep in the forest, the river is enchanted, and you would do better to gain the attention of my marchwardens who would lead you to the mountain-proper.

[ He hardly needs to say it to an Elven cousin, but still. May as well. ]

I permit only a small number of Men to seek refuge in my home. Every precaution is taken to see that the masses do not clamour for sanctuary, as that is where my strength lies and the dangers of the Drabwurld can be ... unpredictable.

[ Thranduil is generous and kind but even he doesn't like the idea of throwing his gates wide open to let mortals run rampant or treat his home like a marvel to be experienced, having already had to tell some of them straight that they aren't welcome. ]

[folklorish]

It has been ages since I dwelt in an unspoiled wood. His home was once above ground; the rivers and trees and meadows a playground for the clan. But this is hardly the time for an extended trip down memory lane.] You've set wardens. Prudent, one cannot be too careful in a strange place.

[ He would have one himself, but the Drabwurld's rulers did not see fit to bring his associate, Mister Wink. More's the pity - the troll has been a good friend and bodyguard for centuries. ]

[firith]

I could say the same. My realm sickened under the influence of a dark lord, one who choked the trees and mutilated the fauna with giant spiders. Marchwardens have always been a necessity, even in times of supposed peace.

That, and I do not take kindly to common trespassers on the roads my people make.

[ Looking at you, Thorin. ]

[folklorish]

[There are dark forces in his world, too. Or there were. It seems, like his gods, they have faded with the rise of humanity. But what Thranduil describes does not sound quite like the warfare his people engaged in with their enemies. Not with the destruction of the natural world. ]

You say sickened. Dare I hope this suggests your lands are now on the mend?