Whispers of the Wild
Thirtieth Day of the First Month 294 AC
Over the last month you had asked the orphne fey to carry messages by what paths they could to those among their fellows who ride with the Wild Hunt. It's been a little more than a year since last you have had words with them and not under entirely cordial circumstances. Still, everyone walked away from the business at the Golden Hearth without a grudge and you at least with a measure of respect for the power of the Hunt, and you could certainly do with allies against the Court of Stars who could ride under the false sun and witch moon of the Feywild without fear of being lost on time-twisted paths.
So when the threshold sprite flits through your window complaining bitterly about the heat and light of midday between delivering his message you are not surprised at the offer for a meeting. What you are a touch surprised at is the place and time. "In the godswood,
now?"
"He's an impulsive old blow-horn..." the sprite continues his complaints.
"Blowhard," you correct, struggling to keep back a smile. He reminds you a little of Moonsonge before she became a Lady of her own troupe and captain of her ship.
"No, he definitely blows that horn really loud he does," the sprite insists. "Though he promised not to do it around Sorcerer's Deep and scare all the mortals off."
"A balm to my soul," you reply dryly, drawing a giggle from the messenger.
***
You encounter Vee having a bit of a day in the sun with Slither in the keep's godswood away from the more oft walked paths of the larger one in the city. She proves curious enough about your guest to follow along, though the serpent, now grown to truly prodigious size from the power emanating off Vee, is disinclined to move from its place in the sun for the shadowed corner the sprite had told you to seek.
At first you think yourselves alone amid the small circle of oaks around a sundial that can likely show the hour no more than one hour of every day, but then you hear the ivy shift upon the largest of the trees and what emerges beneath is not simple bark, but a vibrant green face with a short tangled beard and cunning green eyes that recall a satyr's puckishness but infinitely wiser.
A
familiar booming voice echoes from its lips
"Well... well, haven't you grown in bright summer's light. Are you a flower or are you tree I wonder."
As strange flowers burst from the ivy and colorful butterflies start to flock about its visage this time you know what it is you are conversing with,
Seilenos, Fathers of Satyrs and Wise Fools. Joyous ones they are called in their good graces and as for their foes... few enough live to count themselves such and none can agree upon a curse to cast upon them.
"Tell me then, Dragon King, do you wish to make war upon those who march beneath the Stars, or a lie a trick, a snare in their paths to set? What price will you pay for the aid of the Hunt, for answers soft and arrows sharp?" The spirit half-sings, the tree that serves as his gate quivering with the words.
What do you reply?
[] Ask for information on the Court of Stars
-[] Write in what you are willing to pay
[] Ask for the aid of the Hunt against the Court of Stars
-[] Write in what you are willing to pay
[] Write in
OOC: I actually spent more time looking for a proper picture than writing the update. For anyone curious this is what the Seilenos looks like in official Pathfinder materials. A near equal of Balor's Pit Fiends and Solars and it looks like it stepped out of a Saturday Morning cartoon about Greek Mythology.
