Trip to woods (Honets)

[Borna]

OOC: please put time stamp to this thread, as you said you could be here for a month and try to not stretch yours FT too much.

On specific date Branon was 10 minutes earlier at the specified location and he was waiting for bard to come. He was wearing full camping equipment for two persons. He had two: sleeping bags, rations of food for a cycle, lamps, blankets, tends, raincoats, and one tent for 4 persons. On his beck was big camping bag full of small but necessary stuff for camping in the woods. All equipment was “borrowed” from lumber company. He knew that nobody would miss that. He also know that bard will probably not take everything he needs so Brenon took double time everything he was planning. He tried to think about every possible circumstance, which could happen in the woods, which could change mind of bard. He did not want to lose 200 crowns just because he was unprepared and something happened to old man.

He still could not believe how he was lucky to be at the tavern in the right moment. It would be the easiest money he ever earned. At that moment some dark cloud of suspicion crossed over his mind. What if druids would not be happy with “visitors”. What if the old bard had some other motives? Maybe he is not here for Glade but for that specific group of druids. Branon had, as almost every citizen of Arios, training in arcane and he could defend himself from “usual” peoples, but he knew that he will encountered druids that have great power. But he left that thoughts for near future because he saw that bard is coming.

[Honets]

OOC: My time-stamped entry to Arios was Optia 22 (Spring). Because of the season change, this thread needs to be timestamped in summer, so I have “delayed” Honets’ trip by two cycles to conform to the requirement. Now, on with the show!

IC: Timestamp: A few minutes after dawn on Dianara, Ioannes 2, Era X, PF.

For whatever reasons the gods do such things, Diana had delayed Honets’ expedition into the Arios forest by a few cycles. Various articles of clothing and equipment, after many Patterns of use, were found to need mending or replacing. The tent that he had bought long ago at Windsor’s in Prime had two holes that needed to be patched. Repairs to a seam on his spare cloak required a full brightening of his painstakingly slow needlework. The notice in the Herald about winning the Ieffreon Writing Contest necessitated another delay so that he could draft a letter to the judges. Delay followed delay into the final cycle of spring, but on the 45th of Optia Honets had completed repairs and finalized the necessary purchases of rations. He packed his spare clothing and travel gear into the pack, added rations and made sure his fiddle case would still fit securely atop the rest. He tied his tent and sleeping gear underneath the pack and finally nodded in approval as he placed it all beside the door of his room. He was ready.

They still might have left before the change of seasons, but Honets insisted that their departure date be on Dianara. He tried to mollify Branon by pointing out that the glade might be full of druids on the brightenings leading up to the season’s change. Thankfully, the big man had accepted the delays, though he gave Honets looks that indicated he was beginning to have doubts about the bard. It was now exactly three cycles since Honets and Sir Rocko had arrived on the island. The religious significance of that number was not lost on Honets. It was also Dianara, the very first of Diana’s days in the new summer, which also seemed significant to the Dracon. All signs indicated that the goddess was endorsing his quest, and it was a joyful Dracon that strolled to the meeting place as the suns began to climb from the eastern sea.

The bard who met Branon, however, was not quite the same one that had arranged the event. Instead of an old, grey-haired human, it was a Dracon that accompanied the wolf, Sir Rocko, to the meeting. Before the suns rose, Honets had completed the slow, painful process of shifting from his human guise to his natural form. The wolf at his side and the distinctively colored cloak identified him as the same person that Branon was expecting, but now the hands that protruded from his blue shirt were scaly and taloned. Two grey-mottled wings flared to catch the warming light of the morning suns, and a small puff of dust rose with each step of the unbooted three-toed feet. The unthreatening face of an old grey-beard was replaced with the sharp ridges, horny spikes and intimidating fangs of a race created by evil.

__ ~~ *** ~~ __
Many citizens, perhaps most of them, still thought of Dracons as evil, forgetting, if they ever knew, that Diana had redeemed Dracons from their cursed creation. She had imbued them with a bit of Her own Light, the legends said, and thus gave them something the Cyraxians had purposely denied them – the power to choose. Choose the Light of Diana, or Jorel’s Dark. Regrettably, but predictably, not all Dracons chose to follow Diana. Choose to live within the Empire, where citizens despised the very sight of them, or withdraw to a hidden city until the promised time when Dracons would be accepted by the other races. Most chose to withdraw. Choose to live openly among those who hated them, or assume disguises that allowed them to pass unnoticed among the other races. Too often, just to survive, Dracons like Honets had to choose to hide their true forms, but it was a necessity that chafed at his dignity.

The waitress at the tavern had claimed there was no prejudice against any race on Arios. Honets had scoffed, but the notion tantalized him. Every night he had performed at the tavern, the question crossed his mind again – Would these folks be laughin’ an’ dancin’ an’ singin’ like this if they knew I was a Dracon? He knew the answer, but he longed for a return to his true shape. Not just for a brief time within the safe seclusion of his room, but for several brightenings, in the open where he could spread his wings in the sunlight and wave his tail proudly. It was a dangerous risk, revealing himself even to just one human, but Honets had decided the risk was worthwhile. If Branon balked at the change, Honets would find the glade on his own. If he failed at that, he would assume his human shape again and track down some of those druids. They could guide him if Branon would not.
__ ~~ *** ~~ __

Honets sang as he walked to the meeting place. It was a new song, but the voice was the same rich voice that the lumberjack had heard before . . .

Moonlight can not be captured,
Nor sunlight stolen from the day.
The heart which you were after,
Took wings and flew away.

Stray not, lost soul, nor linger,
Upon love’s battered shores.
Don’t soak your wounds with salty tears
Nor rub sand in your sores.

Gold crowns are not your answer,
Nor mithril, gems and rings.
Tis true love you are after,
More precious than those things.

Love can’t be bought or traded.
Nor stolen, tied and bound.
A flow’r that withers if it’s plucked,
But blossoms where it’s found.

The song faded, but the Dracon’s smile did not. ”Sarah-lee, Branon, an’ Diana’s blessin’ on y’! If y’ didn’t guess it already, I’m th’ one y’ said y’d guide t’ th’ Enchanted Glade. I wanted y’ t’ know th’ truth ‘fore we started out, though.” The bard held out a grey-scaled hand that gripped a small sack containing 100 crowns. ”I told y’ I’d pay 100 crowns when we started, an’ there it is. It’s yer’s even if y’ decide not t’ take me. All I ask, if y’ decide not t’ go, is t’ not tell folks ‘bout me bein’ a Drac. It might be different here, but on th’ mainland there’s folks that’d like nothin’ better than t’ nail m’ wings on their wall, ‘thout th’ resta me attached, if y’ unnerstan’ what I mean.” He watched Branon carefully, trying to judge the man’s true feelings about the revelations just made to him.

[Borna]

Branon spotted that old bard is coming. He was still very far, but he could recognize his voice and his cloak. Also his loyal companion was running around him. Everything was as they agreed. Branon did not mind that their trip was delayed couple of times. He was in tavern almost every day and he saw that Honets is there and that he sings. Also Honest explain to him real reasons for moving the time of trip. Branon had a lot of time and he was not worried about Honets ability or will to pay him for guidance.

But as old bard was coming closer to him Brenon realized that something happened to him. He looked different somehow. He was still far away but there were something about his walk. It looked more straight and aggressive. As man came closer Brenon, at his horror, could see that this creature has wings. At first moment he thought that some creature killed old bard and that now he will be the next victim. But he regained his spirit and realized that there is only one good explanation about this situation. The old bard was not old and he or it was not human. He was Dracon.
He heard a lot about “mystical creatures” dracons and minotaurs but he newer saw them. He was born on this iceland and there were no dracons in his lifetime. But he saw pictures and “old bard” looked just like a dracon from pictures.

Peoples of Arios are indeed kind and friendly. Also they do not have any prejudice about other races. But dracon scared Branon. His first reaction was to pick up his axe and take defensive position. But it seamed that dracon has no aggressive intentions. He spoke with kind voice and acted like nothing happened. But Brenon could not move his eyes from fangs.

After a couple of minutes Honets words reached Brenons mind. He realized that “evil creature” is giving him money. That eased Branons mind for a second. If he wants him dead he would not gave him his money. Branon lowered his axe, but still was prepared to use his spells and said : I I must ssay that I am very surprised to see dev.. I meant dracon. Hooow did you get here and why? Don’t tell me that dracons like song and care about druids and forests. I will defend my self you know, so better do not try anything. said Branon with very stressful voice.

[Honets]

Branon’s reaction was not as bad as Honets feared, nor as good as he had hoped. Fear, rather than hatred, seemed the dominant emotion, and that could be calmed. Fortunately, Branon lowered his axe when Honets and Sir Rocko drew near. That was a move that eased Honets mind, but the lumberjack’s words were like a series of slaps in the Dracon’s face. ” . . . I am very surprised to see dev… I meant dracon. Hooow did you get here and why? Don’t tell me that dracons like song and care about druids and forests. I will defend my self you know, so better do not try anything.”

Honets tried to hide his anger so that he would not further frighten Branon. He knew that the next Dracon that encountered Branon would harvest the fruit that Honets cultivated now. Please Diana, let the fruit be sweet, not bitter. the bard prayed silently. His voice was as calm and reassuring as he could make it as he spoke. ”Forgive me, good sir, fer hidin’ m’ true form. I found out quite a while back that folks in most cities won’t hardly give a Drac th’ chance t’ even open his mouth, let alone sing somethin’. Folks jus’ seem t’ expect a bard t’ look a certain way, so I always show up as somebody that ain’t got fangs an’ wings an’ a face that makes youngsters cry. But if y’ ain’t convinced yet that at least one Drac likes singin’, then I’ve done a mighty poor job of bardin’.” He shook his head sadly. Of all the things that Branon had said, that had stung the most.

”As fer druids an’ forests an’ why I came here . . . I can’t tell y’ much more than I already have. I am a singer, an’ a Journeyman student of Song. I’m hopin’ t’ find an Enchanted Glade, ‘cause I want t’ ask th’ trees there t’ give me a bitta wood t’ make an Arcane Staff. I’ve tried the Dolwood an’ th’ Serewood, but I couldn’t find th’ right glades. Then Diana led me here, an’ from what y’ said b’fore, I think th’ glade y’ said y’ saw is what I’m lookin’ fer. I don’t intend t’ harm anyone ‘r anythin’ – not druids ‘r trees ‘r you neither. Th’ druids shouldn’t have any complaint with m’ quest, ‘cause th’ only way I can get what I’m after is if th’ trees give it t’ me.”

Branon had not taken his payment yet, so Honets bent and tossed the bag softly to the ground near Branon’s feet. The Dracon then stepped back and stood straight, his wings tightly furled behind his back and arms crossed so that there was no threat of drawing the long-knife hanging at his waist. ”There’s ‘nother 100 crowns waitin’ fer y’ at th’ Stopover. Y’ don’t need t’ risk yer life guidin’ a dev . . . I mean, a Dracon int’ th’ woods. But then, maybe y’ been goin’ int’ th’ woods every brightenin’ with Dracs. It’s kinda hard t’ tell fer sure when y’ see soft skin an’ hair insteada scales an’ wings, ain’t it.” He winked, then waited a moment. He had given Branon some things to think about. Branon had been released from any obligation to guide Honets, but would honor compel him to carry through with his pledge to lead the bard to the glade? Maybe Dracons weren’t the demons that tavern tales described. Maybe the next Dracon that Branon met would be given a less hostile greeting than I will defend myself, so do not try anything! Seeds had been planted, and whether they grew to bear sweet fruit, or bitter, Honets would not linger. In another moment he would call Sir Rocko to follow and head into the woods, believing that Diana would guide him if Branon would not.

[Borna]

First shock was slowly decreasing. Branon’s mind was slowly accepting new reality. His muscles were relaxing and his mind was clear, he could rationally think, again. He saw the efforts of bard to calm him down. Bards voice was slow, warm and it manages to draw out fear from Branon. His word started to make sense. Nobody would listen creature with fangs that sings. Peoples really liked singers to look certain way. And Dracons were “blessed” with gift of shape shifting so they could exploit that. Also the part of the search for glade looked like it could be true. When Branon tried to think what would be the reason for bard to pretend to be the singer and lover of the nature, he could not think the single reason. Usually the most simple and obvious things are true. So he tried to accept that. He was not still convinced hundred percent but he began to trust bard again. Only if there were not for wings and fangs Branon could relax totally. They still made him feel little bit uncomfortable.

The gesture of payment for Branon was the trigger that made him stick with first plan. He would lead bard to agreed spot. He was not great man or wise man but he tried not to lose his honor.

Ok. I see some point in yours words. And I think that you mean nothing bad by hiding you true identity. And we had a deal and I will honor it. I do not know how others peoples could react to yours new form, I am sure that nobody would accept it easy. So can you tell me will you change back to previous form or you will keep yours true colors? It is yours decision. I know that wood is huge and that probably we would not meet anybody, but still there are some possibility of meeting party of woodcutters that are working deeply in the woods. Are you prepared for that?

Now Branon could focus his mind of forthcoming trip. He saw that bard carried his tent and that he had things for camping. He was glad for tent. He accepted new reality but he would not be comfortable to sleep under same tent with creature that looks dangerous and that was breed for purposes that Branon could not imagine at least for first couple of nights.

The wood was just south over the place where they met. But Branon tried to avoid any complication and he tried to think of the most abandoned road to woods. It was full day and peoples could see bard and who knows what would happen next. Maybe bard decided to show himself to everybody on the iceland, but Branon did not like that idea, if it were true. So Branon led them to the wood avoiding main roads. And at Branons luck they did not met anybody.

[Honets]

”Changin’ shape ain’t quick or easy,” the Dracon explained to Branon. ”So I’ll keep this form ‘til we set up camp. Then, if y’ insist, I’ll resume th’ shape that I had when we met.” Honets thought about Branon’s words, trying to understand the emotions behind them. There was fear and worry, clearly, but none of the raw hatred that confronted Dracons throughout most of the Empire. ”I ain’t much worried ‘bout meetin’ other folks. I figger you can speak t’ any cutters, an’ Sir Rocko’s presence should calm any druids that think we’re up t’ no-good. But if beasts ‘r brigands beleaguer us, I reckon it’s better t’ deal with ‘em as a Drac than a dodderin’ ol’ duffer.”

The alliteration of his last sentence amused the bard. As Branon led them into the woods, Honets made a mental note of the words for use in a song about this quest he was on, then broke into the first of several songs. Branon might wish to escape notice, but Honets had never journeyed for more than a candlemark in silence, and today’s journey was not going to be carried out in silence. The lyrics of The Bard’s Farewell surrounded them as they walked among the trees, drawing the wolf back from brief forays into the forest around them.


You soon will be out facing danger and strife,
You soon will be fighting and risking your life.
I know there is use for my saber and knife;
Alas, I will not be along, along.
Alas I will not be along.

We all have our limits, and I'm nearing mine;
And so, with your pardon, I'll have to decline,
For I've an appointment with women and wine,
And gaming, and music and song, and song.
And gaming, and music and song.

It's been far too long since I've gambled and drank,
Too long in that dungeon, disgusting and dank,
Too long amidst refuse, repulsive and rank,
Too long without love and romance, romance.
Too long without love and romance.

Before I embark on some hazardous quest,
Before once again I am put to the test,
If I don't take time to recover and rest,
My sanity hasn't a chance, a chance.
My sanity hasn't a chance.

It's not that your company isn't a thrill,
I'm truly impressed with your courage and skill,
And happy to journey beside you; but still,
I need to be free for a time, a time.
I need to be free for a time.

When we meet again, we'll have stories to share,
So 'Go with Diana'; good luck, and take care.
May travel be pleasant, and fortune be fair,
And may you find meter and rhyme, and rhyme.
And may you find meter and rhyme.

The song usually ended there, but this time the bard had more lines to add to the song . . .

But now I am off on a quest of my own
That gnaws at my soul like a wolf with a bone.
I’m wondering, “Why did I ever leave home?
And will I see Nadir again, again?
And will I see Nadir again?”

With Branon to lead me, my goal is in sight.
Sir Rocko will watch and protect me at night,
And each dawn the Bright Lady gives me new Light.
And songs I hope never will end, will end.
And songs I hope never will end.

[Bretheren]

Branon did not know much about dracons and for sure he did not know how they do theirs shape shifting thing. To be honest he did not want to now. He recon that procedure must be unpleasant or even painful. Branon was glad that bard decided that he would change to his former shape. He knew that he can handle other woodcutters and even wild animals of the forest but he was not sure that wolf would keep druids away if they become mad or something. Branon always had some kind of respect and fear for druids. He was only beginner in arcane world but he realized that master of spells could do much more damage to person than master swordsmen. It was not pleasant thought but he really hoped that druids wouldn’t be around that place or if they will that bard would not upset them.

I would be most grateful if you would change to yours first form. You know that you look very scary with wings, fangs and who knows what other body parts that are not made for singing, if you know what I mean. I believe that dracons are race made for other things and not art and songs. But I would not like to talk about that. Now we will go south. I know the way very well and we should not have any problems.

They entreated the forest and Branons mood was a little better. He was in well known surrounding. Here forest still was not that dark and trees were not that old. So the trip was easy and bard sang all the way. He looked happy. Branon did not know how much strength are in dracons but he recon that they are very strong and that bard has not had any problems following him.

Branon did not lead them on main roads. He was not sure if there are or are not companies of cutters in those parts. So the trip gonna be a little longer but Branon did not mind that. The priority for him was to avoid meeting other peoples.

After a couple of hours of walking Branon decided that they deserved a rest. Bard was still in great mood. He sand all the way and really was focused on nature. On the other hand Branon did not speak a word all that time.

We will stop here for a moment. I need a rest and near here is creek and I will go for fresh water.

[Honets]

In the few hours that they traveled, the bard paid attention to their surroundings while he sang. He didn’t know the names of many of the trees, but he could distinguish between them, and their variation amazed and intrigued him. There was a feeling of magic here that was quite different from the Dolwoods, where Honets had sung to the forest and earned the applause of birds, beasts and even the boulders in the ground. In that place, everything was magical, but the use of Arcana was dangerously unpredictable. Here on the island of Arios, the magic seemed less . . . irregular. All of the trees on Arios grew at a phenomenal rate, but Honets had not heard any tales that they moved around to confuse trespassers. Their magic seemed to be common to all of them, but harmless. Honets hoped that the significance of that meant that his search was almost over. “The Heart of the World” was the phrase he had read.describing the connection of Enchanted Woods to the source of Astral power. It was unimaginable to the bard that there was any other place more likely to suit that description than these woods he now journeyed through.

It seemed so appropriate that he was inspired to make a song about it, but Branon called a halt before Honets composed more than a few lines. They had only been traveling a few hours, so it was surprising to the Dracon that they were pausing already, but he said nothing as Branon walked away to fetch water. He was content to wait for his guide’s return. Honets picked up a stick from beside the path and tossed it a short distance down the trail for Sir Rocko to chase after. The wolf quickly returned the branch, and Honets gave it another fling. This time the stick flew into the woods and Sir Rocko disappeared into the brush in pursuit of the small branch. Honets knew that the wolf might get distracted trying to find a particular branch on the forest floor, so he relaxed against a tree trunk and resumed composing his new song. It should only be a moment before Branon came back, the bard thought. Then they could have a quick meal and resume the journey.

[Bretheren]

Branon saw in Honest eyes that he was surprised with the rest and Branons request of water. How the hell one dracon could know when human is tired and needs water. Maybe they do not drink water, maybe they drink blood or something, maybe he drag me to the woods to kill me and do some kind of ritual over me. – thought Branon. But he realized that this was extremely stupid of him and that his one-second panic was totally unneeded. To his surprise that little episode in his mind some hove changed his mood. Suddenly he was feeling happy and satisfied with this “quest”. He started to think of money that he will get and how he will spend it. For that money he could drink in bar for days and days. He could bought something for his house, new camping gear, new furniture, something for his cute neighbor…..

He looked around himself and he saw forest in all its beauty. Maybe that was from pleasant thoughts or some weird arcane twist. Maybe from song of dracon that was very catchy to ear, or maybe old bard had some others powers except voice, he did not know but he was happy. First time in a long time that he felt that. He felt some strange urge that he never felt before. He wanted to sing. It was so strange thing for Branon. He never sang in his life. But now he was “singing” some song that his mothers teach him. It could not be called singing in the way that Honets sings, but it was more of homing words.

He quickly filled his bottles with fresh cold water from creek. And returned to the bard who was playing wit his wolf. You are not afraid that he could get lost in woods? Ok. I filled my stocks of fresh water and now we will eat something and go on with our little adventure – said Brenon to bard as he was pulling meal out of the bad. He had sandwiches. He took one and he offered the second one to Honets. He hoped that dracons eat same thing as humans or they could have problem. His good mood still was on so he started conversation with Honets Can you tell me what is the feeling of being singing dracon and what others dracons thinks of you. I do not know much about dracons but somehow I do not think that singing is their primary job. What is your story?

[Honets]

Branon seemed to be in a happier mood when he returned from the creek. Honets thought he even heard his guide singing in the distance, but it wasn’t loud enough to be sure of either the tune or the lyrics. It pleased Honets to finally hear some music besides his own on this journey. When asked about fear of losing Sir Rocko, the bard chuckled before answering, ”Nope, he can find me easy ‘nough. Even if I was quiet, which seldom happens, he could still catch m’ scent.” Honets reached out and accepted the sandwich that was offered. It would have been rude to refuse, plus it was easier than digging into his own pack. As the bard bit into the sandwich, Branon began asking about Dracons, and specifically about Honets. The Dracon chewed thoughtfully for a few seconds, swallowed and then took a swallow of water from his canteen before he answered.

”Well, I suppose tavern tales all make us sound like monsters, but Dracs can have as much musical sense as softskins. I grew up surrounded with singin’. M’ parents sang while they worked, same as humans an’ halflings do. M’ father an’ I would sing cadence songs while I worked th’ bellows at m’ father’s forge. M’ mother sang Th’ Dracon’s Lullaby t’ me an’ m’ sister when we were li’l Draclets. I sang Blessed Brightenin’ every dawn that wasn’t cloudy, an’ in th’ desert that means every dawn. I jus’ always knew that singin’ was what I wanted t’ do. Th’ problem was, most folks are like you, they don’t think of Dracons as singers. They see a Dracon an’ they want t’ run away ‘r attack, not sit an’ listen, an’ they dang sure won’t pay money t’ listen t’ somebody that scares ‘em t’ be with. So I had t’ take on th’ form I had when y’ first met me. I don’t know if I’m th’ only Dracon bard ‘r not, but I suspect that if there’s any others, they’re doin’ th’ same thing I did. Usin’ a shape that brings folks in, insteada scarin’ ‘em away.”

He paused for another bite of the sandwich before continuing. It was good, and he savored the taste while deciding what else to reveal. ”I’ve been singin’ in that form fer ‘bout twenty Patterns, mostly at taverns an’ fairs. I settled in Paxia fer a bit so I could get some formal trainin’ in music an’ some arcane trainin’ in Song. I was Prefect there fer a while, but then I moved t’ Zinn’Sunn, th’ City of Music, fer more advanced trainin’. I even won a Mage Tourney. That was where I got this here blade.” Honets put a hand on the elven longknife that was hanging at his side. ”It’s Thaum-blessed, so it won’t have any effect unless it’s used fer Good. I don’t know how it tells what’s Good an’ what’s Evil, but it does. I never had any trainin’ with weapons, so it’s reassurin’ t’ be able t’ swing it without worryin’ ‘bout hurtin’ m’self ‘r m’ companions by accident.” To demonstrate, the Dracon bard ran his grey-scaled hand along the blade’s edge and held up the unmarked palm for Branon to see. ”With Diana’s grace, that blade an’ th’ spellsongs I’ve learned ought t’ keep us safe. I was takin’ Journeyman level classes in Song when it struck me that a Journeyman really ought t’ be journeyin’, so I came here, lookin’ fer th’ Enchanted Glade. If I find what I’m after, I’ll . . . well, let’s jus’ leave that ‘til I find it. Like m’ GranDrac used t’ say, ‘Y’ can’t cook a sandsnake ‘til after y’ catch it’.”

The mention of that desert delicacy reminded him of the meal in his hand. He tore off a portion and held it in the palm of his hand for Sir Rocko. The wolf took the morsel gently between his teeth. With a flick of his head, he sent the scrap of sandwich into the air, then with a leap snatched it out of its short arcing flight and swallowed it. It was a maneuver that the wolf had performed since Honets had found him, and it always delighted the Dracon to see it. His fangs flashed in a brief Dracon smile and his wings flared slightly as he took the last bite of the sandwich and waited for Branon’s reply.

[Bretheren]

Branon listened to Dracon very carefully. It was amazing story. He never realized, or event thought that creatures like dracons could have some other intentions and desires besides eating peoples, killing and other “nice” things. But it was not Branons fault. And he was not the only one that was so ignorant and uneducated about Dracons. More than 85 percents of peoples on Arios probably thinks the same way as Branon. Well it could be said for entire Empire.

But Branon slowly started to change his mind. He was not sure that other Dracons are peaceful creatures but he was quite sure that this one is friendly. Better said this Dracon was extremely well educated, friendly, mild temper and polite, totally different than Dracons in Branons vision.

There was something about the voice of Dracon that made Branons sure that this Dracon never hurt a person in his whole life just to see the pain or for his satisfaction. Maybe he defended himself sometimes but that was totally different story.

And also would evil creature care about his pet as Honets care about his Sir Rocko. Not for sure. He could saw the sparks in Dracons eyes when he was with Sir Roco.

Branon did not know what to said after all he just heard. He was not good talker, his education was poor, his social skills were not that good so he just said Well we will find yours Enchanted Glades. I can promise you that.

Slowly they ate their sandwiches and kept going deeper in the forest, following the Branons way. Now he was not concerned if anybody will see them. His good mood continued.

[Honets]

OOC: The “new” reality of Arios stated in the ReamCraft affects how this thread will be handled, I think. I hope this post brings my quest into compliance. Sorry for the wait, Bretheren. You've been great!

IC:
Honets had stayed in Arios long enough to learn a little about the inability of inhabitants to sleep. When he first made plans to search for the Enchanted Glade here, he had thought everything could happen nearly twice as quickly as elsewhere. There was no need to rest at night, either in traveling or in the Unbinding process once he found the Glade. After his first cycle on the island, the bard had become almost accustomed to staying awake all night. It was a great opportunity to compose songs and practice his fiddle playing. He was therefore greatly surprised one morning to discover himself waking from a dream. It was not an exceptional dream. He barely remembered that it had something to do with his trip to the Serewood. He had many dreams about that journey in the last month. But how could he have dreamed on Arios? He didn’t remember falling asleep, but he had awoken slumped awkwardly over his journal.

Honets had left his room and wandered down to the tavern-room, where he learned that he had indeed fallen asleep, been put to sleep actually, by the priests of Kaimelea. He was told matter-of-factly by the bartender that everyone was compelled by them to sleep. ”Sorry. I usually tell the guests here before it happens. I always warn mainlanders, so they don’t get caught . . . uhm . . . in an embarrassing activity, so to speak. I assure you, sir, there’s no harm in it. In fact, if you go too long without sleeping, even on Arios, you’d start going a little crazy. Some folks say that fellow Malroth spent a month in the woods once, where the priests couldn’t help him, and look what happened to him. Every couple of months there’s another article in the Herald about that madman spouting some nonsense. Don’t you worry, though, sir. We won’t let that happen to you. I’ll make a note to warn you the night before they come around again.”

The information had troubled Honets. Who really knew what was going on when those priests put people to sleep? Had they really “forgotten” to tell him, or was there some nefarious activity going on while he slept? Even if the need for it was real, how was this going to affect his trip into the woods? Branon was a native, so he must know ways to get some sleep besides waiting for the priests to make it happen. Honets had read that the Unbinding of a tree in the Enchanted Glade could take a month. That was presumably for a person who took time off for sleep and other activities. If Honets could stay awake, though, and devote every available minute to the Unbinding, it might take only two cycles. Maybe even a little less! Could the bard survive unharmed by the lack of sleep for that period? Branon might know something about it.

As they walked through the woods, Honets formulated the questions he wanted to ask in his mind. Between songs, those questions dispelled the silence that would otherwise have existed. ”When d’ y’ think we’ll get there? . . . Can we travel at night? . . . What happens if I have t’ stay out here fer a couple cycles? . . . I know a few spellsongs t’ make folks sleep, but if they don’t work, is there a drug ‘r somethin’ that’d work instead?”

[Tarot]

OOC: Hi Honets,

I'm taking over this thread since a GM is needed to handle this kind of quest.

-Tarot

IC:

It looked like the barkeeper's innocent revealation had triggered a barrage of questions from Honets, and Branon thought to himself that if the bard truly was a Mage, he should have known better than setting out to Arios before gathering the necessary information about the island's unique features. Still, since the bard was also a towering Dracon, even a brief outburst of folly on his part could very well prove to be fatal for Branon, and it was in the interest of both parties that Honets could get the sleep he needed to preserve his sanity...

"Like I said, I think it will take us two brightenings to get to the inner parts of the wood" he replied "But that is if we avoid travelling at night, which we don't have to. Our bodies heal and recuperate so quickly that we'll only have to stop for two candlemarks or so each brightening. However, the darkening is pretty dangerous here... Even though we don't have to sleep, the same applies to the animals and monsters of the woods... they never stop hunting their prey. And many of them are also insane from the lack of sleep, though the Druids know how to cope with it. Don't know the details of it, they are quite the shady bunch..."

When Honets mentioned he knew a few spells that could help them getting some rest, he nodded. "Aye, those will do the trick. Any magical thingy should be enough to get a dream or two. Even if you only sleep for five minutes, it can still be enough if you dream during that time. I hope you can pull those spells off... I'm trusting you on this. The only non-magical way to put one to sleep in Arios is to punch the wind out of him until he faints, I'm afraid, and even that isn't guaranteed to work all the time..." he shrugged. Receiving such a treatment from a Dracon wasn't on Branon's priority list. "And a couple cycles shouldn't do too much harm either... At least, not to us Ariosians... though you are probably the first Dracon to walk these paths since I was born, so I couldn't say if this will have a different effect on you."

"So..." he added "are we going to stop for the darkening? It won't be long before sunset."