Treetop Talk

You tell Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist, "Spirit Warden. Trilogy, of tomes, by
Lendren. Summer, Autumn, Winter. Accurate, to events?"

Xenthos tells you, "I do not know the specific works in question so I cannot speak to them exactly -
but I would hesitate to trust anything written to a page to be entirely accurate. The author nearly
always has a personal point of view which they let bleed into their work."

Xenthos tells you, "What is the subject of the trilogy?"

You tell Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist, "Mm. Thought, you might know. Part, of
cast. Chronicles, Lady Viravain's attempts, to purify. Subsequent events."
-
Xenthos tells you, "Mm. I do not recall Lendren being a part of it - but yes, I was indeed there."

You tell Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist, "Mildly, despite the ragged nature of
his voice, observes, "Yes. Just eaten, by Murphy. Younger, weaker. How old, Spirit Warden?""
-
Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says to you, "As old as the Glomdoring. Who I
was before matters little. It was the cocoon spun by Lady Viravain, of which I was a part."

-look xenthos
He is a nimble shadowlord faeling shadowfire-limned ascendant changeling and is much larger than
normal, a bit over eight feet in height. His skin is a translucent ebony, pine-green shadows seeming
to churn just below the surface. Fine white scars form an intricate lacework, lining his skin in a
stark contrast.  Glimmering with silver highlights, his hair is a rich, pure white, hanging thick
and straight down to his shoulders.  His right eye glows with red fire, containing tiny flecks of
green seeming to dance in the flames, while his left is a scarred socket of tissue from which the
original eye was plucked.  In its place, an orb composed entirely of shadowfire has formed,
constantly swirling within its confines.  Both eyes roam the area, observing everything around him.
His body is lean and lithe, long cables of muscle lying against his bones making him much stronger
than first impression would think.  He moves gracefully, making little to no noise when he chooses
to walk, instinctively knowing where to place his feet for silence. Springing from his back are a
pair of leathery wings, arching high and carried in a subconscious display of self-assurance, faint
green tinges showing when struck by the light.  Coiling around each wing, the imprint of a heavy
chain has been branded into his flesh.  The blackened links have worn to smooth, iridescent scars
along which small wisps of shadowfire cavort.

His silvery hair is cut into an attractively short pixie cut, long bangs swept to one side. Each
strand gleams with a faint emerald hue, granting a mysterious, verdant cast to his overall
hairstyle.
He is wearing:
SO MUCH STUFF, trimmed for brevity

Looking up from the slim booklet held carefully within his massive hands, Rhalkyr's
eyes glint as he studies Xenthos briefly, before his gaze flickers away. "History, important. Even,
lacking in glory." Tapping a calloused finger atop the page, he tilts his masked face to one side.
"Opinion, if you would give it."
-
Xenthos tilts his head slightly as he regards you. "Aye?"
-
Ilistala, an enormous leopard yawns widely, before settling down on a branch arching high above the
shelves as she begins to groom a paw.

Darting a glance at Ilistala, an enormous leopard, the regard of vivid green eyes
curious, and lacking in apparent fear, Rhalkyr lifts his hands from the booklet to roll it in a slow
circle, an upraised finger encompassing the forest that surrounds them. "The Glomdoring. Strong,
now, or weak?"
-
Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "Mm."
-
The heady scent of roses and congealing blood resonates from Xenthos, carried on a light wind.
-
Xenthos closes his one eye for a moment as he inhales, breathing in the scent of the Forest
permeating the library, overlying the scent of many books, before he begins speaking. "The
Glomdoring is alive, you know. The Forest has been through much. But every creature within the Woods
is a part of that whole... from the smallest weevil, to the mightiest of them all, the Wyrdling
himself."
-
Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "Do you know much of the greev?"

The callouses of Rhalkyr's craggy fist rasp along the stiff parchment as he draws
the back of his knuckles absently along the words upon the page, the mask obfuscating his face
lending him a bestial mien that sits naturally upon him, despite the erudite item cradled within a
huge hand. Listening intently, with his head cocked in Xenthos's direction, his eyes flit
ceaselessly about the area, flickering from motion, to sound in a constant flickering of feverish
green. "Know this. Some, of greev. Read, scrolls. Know, Thornwatch takes place."

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says to you, "The most important part is that
the greev -is- the Glomdoring. They are not separate entitites. It is the spirit of the Forest,
whose flesh is composed of all else within the Glomdoring, given agency."
-
Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says to you, "I've seen its might with my own
eyes, felt its crushing weight upon my back."
-
Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says to you, "So I know - beyond question - that
the Glomdoring is mighty. We mortalkind are a part of that, yes. An important part. We must serve
our tah'vrai. But the Glomdoring is greater than any of us."

Rhalkyr dips his head in a curt nod, grunting. "Mechanism, of self-defense. Last
resort." With an incongruous tenderness, he gently closes the cover of the book, shifting it so that
it is cradled against his abdomen. Lowering himself to his haunches, he balances easily upon the
branch, fingers tapping out a staccato rhythm upon the hard surface of the tome he grasps. A slow,
thoughtful rumble shudders forth from his throat, the sound more akin to a growl, and it is a long
moment before he speaks once more. "Valid. Will rephrase." Lifting his hand, his fingers ripple
through a peculiar, flowing motion. "Mortals, of the Glomdoring. Population. Strength. Activity." An
avian cock of the head, this time in the opposite direction, and his gaze settles upon Xenthos long
enough to ask, "Satisfactory?"
-

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "Mm. A very different question. Such
things tend to ebb and flow - but it does seem as if we are currently in a period where the mortal
effort seems to be born on the shoulders of a few."

The ragged, tearing sound that emanates from Rhalkyr this time is one of obvious
satisfaction, as he lifts a broad, brutish hand to tap against the side of his mask, just over the
temple - each light contact of finger to wood eliciting a sharp 'tak'. "Am pleased, in correct
estimation, of keen mind. Growing concerned, only my eyes, could see." Settling back onto his heels,
he rocks back and forth slowly, chin lifted to regard the canopy above in thoughtful silence, for a
time. Quietly, the rough, jagged nature of his voice making the words difficult to discern in their
lack of volume, he says, "How, Spirt Warden, intend to fix?"

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "The most important thing I can do is to
tend to the Thornwatch. To answer the questions of those within the guild, to guide them, to
encourage them to grow - to find their tah'vrai, and serve it. It is what I aim for. I also aim
simply to be present for those of the Glomdoring who need assistance on a more general level. But
that is simply on a personal level. On a grander scale, what the Glomdoring needs is for -everyone-
to do such. We have been seeking a new librarian for some time, for example."
-
With a loud yet playful whistle, a mechanical dirigible comes puttering in on currents of air, its
metallic claw grasping a cheeky corvid sugar cookie, which it quickly deposits in your hands.
-
A mechanical dirigible bobs up and down on the air currents before jets of steam erupt from several
of its valves, then putters off.

A hiss of breath, faintly distorted beneath the confines of the toothsome mask as
Rhalkyr lets out a brief sigh. "Passive." Middle finger bouncing up and down in minute motions upon
the book in a distracted fashion, the hulking Human flicks a glance at the dirigible, eyes thinning
to slits as he examines its cargo. Evidently electing to ignore the event, he simply places the
cookie upon a thickly muscled thigh, and resumes, "Not, enough. Need, proactive approach." Lifting
his hand, he makes a slow, grasping motion, fingers curling inwards with inexorable menace. "Take
throat. Shake, into life." A pause, and then he adds, "Culture, is start. Writing, several works,
already. Morale, important. But, not, enough."

Cut into a vaguely avian shape, this palm-sized cookie has quite
possibly been overbaked, its golden-brown color closer to toffee than
normal, and flecked with something reddish that has caramelised into
glossy chunks throughout the crumb to add a welcome variety of color and
texture. A thick black liquorice glaze has been applied to the top,
taking the shape of a cheeky crow, whose single candy eye glints in the
available light as his long beak is forever frozen mid-caw.

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "What works are you writing? Such can be
helpful, but often better as a group project. Or competition. Something which encourages more
participants to strive for success."

Rhalkyr flicks his left hand aside in a swift, cutting motion. "Many. Fables, of
Crow aspects, for young. Fiction, of heroic Glomdoring, to rouse." A soft sound, torn at the edges,
the noise tinged with amusement. "Most, of bounty list."
-
Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist smiles and says, "I would be interested in
reading your tales of His Aspects, when you have progressed on them."
-
Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "Have you spoken with Lillirallia at all?"

Rhalkyr jerks his head in a brief nod. "Will show." Gesturing at Xenthos with a
sharp twitch of his fingers, the ragged, guttural bass of his voice grows a shade darker, anger
padding about the words lightly as a stalking tiger. "Yes. Compared to Magnagoran. Displeased."
-
Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "She is our newly-appointed Culture
minister. The one prior ran a successful Festival of the Greeving not too very long past, but as you
have noted, such things do need to be reinforced regularly."

Rhalkyr grunts, obviously unimpressed. "Know this. Read logs, of commune events.
Think will bring glory, to office?"
-
Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "She is young, and I think we could have
benefitted from having others apply. But I have no reason to doubt her, either. Sometimes youth is
good for such positions, to bring new energy and new ideas."

In a voice as dry as the snapping of a dead branch, Rhalkyr remarks, "Glowing,
endorsement." The black substance of the stripes that line his shoulder shift, undulating as the
dense muscles move in a sinuous shrug. "Will be content, if stays, out of my way." Brushing his palm
over the branch by his bare feet, his touch as affectionate as a lover's, continues, "Will make
strong, lively. One way, or other." A glint of intensely vivid green as he looks to Xenthos, then
away again. "Have heard, from Divines?"
-
Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "Indeed. Lady Viravain spoke to the
Commune not long ago, and I think to Her Order more regularly. Lord Nocht tends not to speak as
much, but He is still present in the background."
-
Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "And Afollia would be the one to speak to
of Her, if you wished to do so a bit less... directly."
-
With a high-pitched hoot, a great horned owl wings in and deposits stationery splotched with half
-painted koi into your hands, then flaps off again.

Nodding in a distracted fashion, Rhalkyr remarks, "No need. Prayed to both, in
Fulcruxes. Will respond, if They will it. Or will not." He twitches an elbow in Xenthos's direction,
asking, "And Predator?"

Rhalkyr scowls at the departing owl, an irritated growl bubbling thickly up from
this throat. "Dislike, mystery gifts."
-
Inhaling deeply, fingers tapping against the hilt of his katana once, Spirit Warden Xenthos
An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "He is on a Hunt in the Void, and has been for some time. A very
long time. Far out of touch."

Placing the letter upon the booklet, Rhalkyr looks down at the colourful work,
placing the fingers of either hand on each side of both tome and stationary, whereupon they
delicately nudge the lighter paper into precise alignment with the edges of the booklet. Chin
tilting at an odd angle, his gaze remains fixed upon it even as he addresses Xenthos. "Family,
Xenthos?"

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "It's complicated. There are few
An'Ryshes, but more Shee-Slaugh. My family is tied to the Shee-Slaugh through history and through
blood."

Twitching his head aside at this, Rhalkyr's eyes are wide and nearly lambent as
they stare unwaveringly at the artfully painted koi. "Who, then, consider, true family? Children?
Siblings? Spouse?"
-
Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "My spouse slumbers, and has for some
century or two now. While I do miss her... I do have the Glomdoring. I have been with it since its
birth. I have watched it grow, and flourish, from a small seedling to the waking of the greev
itself."

Silence receives Xenthos's words, a hungry and patient thing of textured stillness
as Rhalkyr sits, motionless as a statue of bronze. Even as he speaks, the illusion is unbroken, by
virtue of the obfuscation of his mask, denying any traitorous motion of unseen mouth, of hidden
tongue. "Sounds, lonely."
-
Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist smiles and says, "If there's one thing I have
never been in the Glomdoring, it is 'lonely.'"

A pulsing, deeply grinding sound tears forth from Rhalkyr's chest, the sound only a
very distant, monstrous cousin of what laughter should be. "A fine answer." Flicking a glance up at
%Xenthos, then to Ilistala, he lifts his chin at the leopard and makes an interrogative grunt.

Ilistala, an enormous leopard cracks open an eye from where she has been resting at the sudden
noise, before closing it again, her tail curled up around her.
-
Xenthos pats Ilistala, an enormous leopard in a friendly manner.
A loud rumbling emanates from Ilistala as she rubs against Xenthos.
-
Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says to you, "We should be off to tend to a few
things."
-
Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says to you, "But I will be looking for those
stories."

Rhalkyr levers a hand up at the wrist, flicking his fingers in a farewell.
"Enjoyed, conversation. Hunt well."
-
Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "And you, as well."
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Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist smiles and says, "I do note that Afollia is
awake, if you wish to speak to her, as well."
-
Ilistala melds into the shadows, quickly disappearing from view.