Once in Hyanda Nost proper, Isilmewen tried to relax. It was the end of her guiding them through the wilderness, at least for the moment. The others would find respite here, if not her.

Or, that had been the hope. Isilmewen glanced about, seeking possible familiar faces among those within the Citadel, and looking to find someone from whom she may requisition a resupply of her arrows and a new blade. Then her attention was caught by the warrior that made directly for them. No, not them. Arathea.

News delivered, ill tidings. Isilmewen didn't need to feel to know the weight that just landed upon Arathea. Isilmewen gave a soft nod.

"Go where you must," Isilmewen spoke gently as Arathea announced her departure, "Worry not. We'll not be idle; for myself I'd sooner traverse ahead, that I might know the route better for your return."

In the back of her mind, something pressed at her awareness. The name of Arathea's father. She knew it. But in that moment she was more focused on considering her foray beyond the citadel of Hyanda Nost than idle thoughts that might have given rise to alarm.

Isilmewen stood still, as frozen as the court's chilling air. It was a practised posture. Learned long ago, in halls both different and the same as this one. But for the years of practise she had, it didn't steady the quickness of her heart, or slow her breath.

She heard little past the pounding in her ears, but what reached her brought a muted relief. The group, it seemed, was mostly aligned. In the result if nothing else. There was life in seeds. Life she would have loved to see flourish, if it were in her ability to aid.

But she didn't speak. Somehow, she didn't think such a line was safe. Isilmewen didn't think anything was, right now. 

They had been welcomed. They were guests. Now, they were what Seleniniel had feared. What she had, perhaps unwittingly, demanded they become. Mere prey to the whim and will of the court.

And so, when the Queen asked her question, Isilmewen heard it. Not in its words, but in its weight. It was not a question to be answered with speech. 

Her hands moved before her thoughts could catch them. Another well practised gesture, drawn from memory. A curtsy, low and sincere. 

A signal of her understanding, and acceptance.

Her promise.

Darkness deeper than the moonless night. No matter how much Isilmewen strained her eyes, there was nothing to see. Her neck tightened as air felt scarce, but she had resolved herself to this even before entering. If this was the one time fortune wouldn't see her through, well...

The thought was left incomplete as Ysmiril's song pierced the dark veil, and Isilmewen breathed a bit easier.

Alright, here we are. Wherever here was. A nightmare realm? Perhaps. Isilmewen didn't trouble herself to think about it much - better to leave that for the academics. All she had to worry about was doing her part, and that meant studying Ysmiril.

Even as limbs ached, even as she questioned her hearing for the thirteenth time, even as she could scarce make out if anyone was left behind her, Isilmewen had to trust. She forced herself to study Ysmiril's steps. Repeat the steps. Follow the guide. Guide the others.

Repeat.. the.. steps.. Follow.. the.. guide.. Guide.. the.. others..

If they were still there. They were still there, right?

She couldn't stop to look. She had to follow Ysmiril. Repeat the steps. Guide the others. 

Isilmewen's heart sank a bit in knowing one thing in particular. Oh, she could follow Ysmiril's footsteps. That wasn't the hard part. The hard part was in the knowing that she had neither the breath nor vocal skill to lend her voice to echo Ysmiril's song for the others to follow.

Then Ysmiril stopped. Isilmewen blinked at that. Had they stopped? Did they make it to their destination?

No.

Ysmiril's voice called out in urgency, and she moved swiftly. Isilmewen looked back, seeing the shapes off to the side that Ysmiril approached, but couldn't make them out. After following so long, she almost took a step to continue after Ysmiril, but the part of her that retained alertness screamed at her to stay still. Hold the line. Guide the others in the dark.

Isilmewen's knuckles whitened as she held fast to the rope she held. She'd stay on this path.

It didn't take long before Ysmiril once more took lead in the dark, but what she said last gave Isilmewen pause.

"These are bound to the Court by the oldest magic - even the likes of you dare not interfere with such. Begone!"

So the binds that Selineniel were so averse to were obligation and protection both. Isilmewen had to ponder that a moment. In a way, it did make sense. If one was summoned by another House, and that House offered transporation, it was their responsibility to see you arrived safely.

Somehow, Isilmewen didn't think Selineniel was going to appreciate the irony.

Dutifully, Isilmewen followed after Ysmiril as best she could after a long trek since that morning. Her body's cries for relief rang louder in her mind than even Ysmiril's song, but she knew she couldn't heed them. Hold the line. Guide the others.

And then they reached the dawn.

Isilmewen needed no urging from Ysmiril as she stumbled out, back in the forest once more. Everything was loud. Everything was bright. As they should be. Staggering over to a tree trunk, Isilmewen allowed herself to lean against it, and with her free hand pried her fingers loose of the grip she held.

Once she had counted, and made sure all were accounted for, Isilmewen let out a tired but relieved laugh, "First in a thousand years, hm?" She pondered Ysmiril's words, "Wonder if gran will believe me, even when my brother and sister won't. Though she'll want it as another verse for her collection. Darkness beyond moonless night... something something... maybe?" Isilmewen yawned, not paying attention as she let the tree she leaned against become her support.

Dak going off to refresh first sounded like a good idea to Isilmewen, but her body wasn't about to let her push it any further.

"Be there in..." Isilmewen murmurred sleepily, "... Whenever I'll be there."

"If I could have had but a similar spot," Isilmewen murmured, "The things I could hide from my brother and sister, then," she chuckled softly.

Of course, the actual stowing of her quiver was... Less than pleasant. It brought to mind having lost one's boot in thick mud, and searching around for it blindly.

"Hmm, no, that wouldn't have done," she reconsidered. It didn't take much for Isilmewen to guess that, even if she had such a hiding place, when she was younger she wouldn't have had the strength to reach into it. Setting the thought aside, she stood back to await the opening of the path. 

She didn't anticipate the opening to be... Nothing. She heard nothing. Saw nothing. It was just a pocket of nothing. Isilmewen frowned. Was it that the light didn't reach, or was it really... nothing? Ysmiril's words didn't stop the shiver along the back of her neck, but they did give Isilmewen pause as the thought about what was said.

"So," Isilmewen gulped, averting her gaze from the void to look at Ysmiril, "it is like a bog, then, the steps of which I'll not be familiar with, but there is solid footing to be found, if one who knows can guide the path."

In a strange way, what Ysmiril described still followed a reasoning that Isilmewen could understand. Any untamed path likewise could hold many dangers to the unaware. This, this was just a path far wilder than she was familiar with. At least, that was what she had to believe. What exactly those dangers were, she didn't know. She wanted to know. She wanted to be able to guide the others in the case where they needed another guide.

"Maybe someday," Isilmewen pondered, "But for now... As much as I've already practiced taking your steps, would holding a line between all of us aid in keeping our steps together, or would such a measure be more hindrance than help?" she wondered.

As they set up camp and rested after such an intense healing, Isilmewen's gaze kept looking over at Ysmiril, her own eyes distant though perhaps not the same distance as Ysmiril's own gaze. Where was she? Isilmewen wondered, If her mind has wandered, where has it gone?

Really, there was so much she wanted to ask. A fabled fey being, right there, beautiful and unknown. Isilmewen busied herself with her watch and subtly checking on Arathea again, as well as making sure Rosariel and Mae'rel were not too worn out by what the earlier healing demanded of them.

Then, Ysmiril spoke, and she immediately had Isilmewen's attention. Lindela Elin. No, Ysmiril named it Laulualtaat. Isilmewen was intrigued. And more than a little startled by Seleniniel's vehement response.

It was all she could do not to, but Isilmewen had to laugh.

"Seleniniel," Isilmewen laughed, "How is this so different than the agreement made back at the Isil'nari estate? You and I both know, the heads of our own Houses are like to see us as much tools and extensions of their will as you say our unexpected patron does. But, we have received boon of this patron. I'd sooner settle our service in return while we can, lest Heren'salkya's dance tips unfavorably, and we find for some reason later on that we cannot." Isilmewen's voice went a bit quieter, "If the old fables are to be believed, such a scenario would certainly not be favorable in any capacity. To us, or kin."

"In any case," Isilmewen added, "We've effectively received summons from one who would receive us and return their favor. To keep them waiting could be an insult," Isilmewen frowned a bit as she scratched at her cheek, "At least, going by House summons and what my siblings told me about how those are supposed to work. If I remembered that right... did I remember that right?"

"So yours is the gaze I've felt for the past while," Isilmewen mused. She didn't know to what she spoke. She could feel the age and distance in that otherworldly gaze, idly wondering if the group were as ants to it. She liked to categorize things on their role. Predator, prey, scavenger, and so on. These were roles she could understand, and she knew herself and other Sylvari as predator and prey both, as bees with busy city hives. This being, however, so far defied classification. 

Looking to the others, Isilmewen would add, "If they had ill intent towards us, they could've acted far sooner. And just as how we're wary," the same how the wounded predator is most dangerous to approach, "They likely have like reason to wait and observe as well," Isilmewen reasoned.

"I am in agreement as well," Isilmewen concluded.

And what kind of devotee to the Lady of Fortune would I be if I wasn't willing to throw caution aside, hoping for the best from a chance encounter? 

While she had found the spot suitable for a camp, Isilmewen's nerves still felt taught. She knew the watcher still had eyes on them, but there was little that could be done about that at the moment. Not with the urgency of setting up a place for respite. Though the thought did occur to her, perhaps she'd settle on some target practise later. She somehow doubted that the same protections woven around the old Syl were on the crow. After helping set up the campsite, Isilmewen went to Mae'rel and Rosariel to see if they needed any aid.

"Madam Isilmewen. I do not know these lands as you do, but if I'm to slow this growth, I will need plants. [..] Is this in your skillset to find?"

Isilmewen paid careful attention to Mae'rel's request, nodding slowly, “Would you describe them to me in full? I will seek out what may be found nearby,” She looked over to the normally stalwart Raudhri and nodded again, “I'll do whatever I can.”

After receiving the specifics to aid her successful idenfication of the specific plants, and upon hearing Dak's offer to accompany her, Isilmewen wandered over to the Cidal, offering gentle smile.

“Dear Dak, company certainly wouldn't go amiss, but seeing as this time I must go about it with some haste, it's not like to be a familiar moonlit stroll,” Isilmewen giggled, before lowering her voice a bit, “Keep look out over the others while I search. Mae'rel and Rosariel have their attentions occupied; Raudhri and Arathea are in pain; and Seleliniel may be preoccupied with knowledges esoteric for use against this adversary.”

((room for more from anyone))

Grabbing her bow and pack once more, the woodland ranger set out for a bit in order to find suitable plants for Mae'rel's use. On her return, Isilmewen offered whatever it was she was able to Mae'rel, before taking another stroll around the nearby area.

It was then, on her improvised patrol, that she came across and heard Arathea's lament.

“There are damnable things, to be sure, but you are most certainly not one of them,” Isilmewen offered with a soft laugh, leaning against a nearby tree.

((ping @ Arathea ))

Isilmewen frowned as she saw the flickers of light that askew the flight of her arrows. How many protections had the man woven? Enough that she could reason pushing an advance would be worth it... If not for that last spell he wrought. Isilmewen's eyes widened as she watched him vanish.

Once reprieve was had at the end of battle, Isilmewen rushed over to investigate, taking care not to step into the ring - though she was too slow to interject a hand before Seleliniel stepped inside. Isilmewen's breath caught for a moment, before an exhale of relief left her as Seleliniel remained present, in front of her.

"That was reckless," Isilmewen said softly, "

Harken whispers of wind, sun and stone, 

Step not into capped rings from the unknown.

I know it's just a childhood rhyme, but where magic and other powers are involved, it's a very real possibility to go somewhere where there is no return, if it did work," Isilmewen added. She held no judgment in her voice; Seleliniel was knowledgeable of many things she was not, and like as not this was more a reminder of something known already. But Isilmewen gave a meaningful glance in Arathea's direction, hoping Seleliniel would take her meaning. Right now, Arathea had enough on her mind without needing to worry about their safety.

On Arathea's call, Isilmewen nodded, "I'll scout about for a suitable place. We'll want to put some distance between us and this grove, just in case he can return through the same path."

There was much and more she wanted to say to Arathea. But in that moment, one of the very few lessons she had actually internalized from her upbringing had surfaced in her memory - when one was making an effort to preserve their image, it didn't do to undermine them. A lesson learned after many, many gatherings where she did that to her family members. 

There was no distinctive sound to accompany the falling of Arathea's blade, and so at first it escaped Isilmewen's notice. As keen as she was to focus on what lay ahead and approaching, it was only when Arathea's stance slouched over in her peripheral that she realized something was very wrong.

Heeding Arathea's cry, Isilmewen immediately doubled back around to approach the bladeless Megilindar. Once she made it to Arathea's side, she held bow in off hand as she drew her longsword, offering the hilt towards Arathea.

She didn't know the full extent of what had happened, but seeing the torn look on Arathea's face, Isilmewen gave a gentle smile, speaking without judgment, "We dance, and we can fall. All we can do is have the courage to stand again."

And laugh, Isilmewen recalled, for ever on does fortune dance eternally, and in misfortune where we stumble, what can we do but laugh, before helping each other back on our feet once more? 

Isilmewen's breath came in focused bursts. Breathe in, draw, loose, exhale. The sounds of battle waged, and Isilmewen kept her focus as best she could. The others had their hands full dealing with the mycelian shamblers and now wasps of unusual size, and in her sights she kept the old Syl at arrowpoint. Then she heard them. The screeches and loud crashing that accompanied the owlbears, much a repeat of their earlier encounter.

I knew they were close, Isilmewen cursed under her breath, would that I could've given more warning.

She knew enough of the owlbears from those they had faced earlier that a single arrow wouldn't be enough to stop the weight of their charge. They already had the momentum they needed, and their limbs would withstand the force of a single arrow, even to a joint. 

"You would claim this grove sacred, yet look! See the trees and life crushed underfoot by those you would save!" Isilmewen called as she drew her bow once more, "Unlife wrought from death by your will, twisting decay into animation! I know not how many seasons you've seen, and I know not the path you walked to be here and now, but as of here and now, what do you hope to accomplish in Adaron's name?!" she screamed.

Isilmewen knew, once, this man had to have been one of Adaron's most devout. If she had to put an arrow through his heart to stop this madness, she would, but she hoped against all possibilities that it wouldn't come to that.

(depending on the web cast, if it is in front of the owlbear to the left to catch it, Isilmewen will fire on the one nearest to her on the right, see if the shot might make it divert or hestitate in its course and weaken its charge. If it goes for her, she'll path to draw it away and through the trees, relying on them to slow the creature down so it can't make a direct charge, and cause more collateral damage in its wake to try and show more to her point to the man

If the owlbear does not divert course, she'll move up and right to keep sight of the man, and fire on the owlbears and bees' flank to help take them down with hopefully minimal likelihood to hit her allies)

"You are..." 

The words trailed from Isilmewen's lips, but she didn't hold the same rancor that her companions held. Righteous as it was, she couldn't hold the same feeling herself, and instead looked forlorn as she took a steadied breath.

"Nature is many things. But one thing I am reminded again, and again, is that it adapts. You, who would search for a place for those yet to find theirs, you have forgotten the harmonies that must be observed. I think I can recognize your vision, but this is not the path there," Isilmewen spoke, her words tinged with sorrow, her hand shakily drawing an arrow from her hip quiver, "Even we have to step in when a predator would threaten too large a domain. Or prune overgrowth, that the plants flourish better."

It didn't matter if her words failed to land, her heart wouldn't let her leave it unspoken. And somehow, Isilmewen had the feeling that this man's views had fossilized over a very long time. Far longer than any of them had in this moment to chisel open to seed with renewed perspectives. 

With the fungi taking up the frontline, she knew what she had to do. She slipped back to borrow cover of the trees as she steadied her aim. Even as far gone as he seemed, Isilmewen hesitated to do more than necessary to disable him. Would it be possible to find a thread of reason that would bring him, this man who had seen untold years, back to Adaron's guidance?

The prospect seemed unlikely, but... What kind of maiden would she be if she didn't try the table at times like this? 

"Haren'salkya," Isilmewen breathed, "May I share this dance?"

If favor was hers to hold this time, perhaps she could yet prevent the tragedy from reaching it's conclusion. 

((OOC: Isilmewen is targeting the presumably fallen cleric with her arrows, but going to focus on trying to disable him - if she can shoot to dislodge his casting focus and/or materials, she'll try to. Else, she'll try for non lethal shots, arm most likely.))

Many voices spoke as they met with the unusual forest caretaker, and Isilmewen chose not to add her voice to the ones already addressing him; the better to not overwhelm with words if he was indeed as unaccustomed to speech as he sounded to her ears. How long had he traveled alone for his voice to be as it was? And more importantly, why eschew the company of the people who would still offer hospitality? Even if she herself knew the feeling of preferring the wild and open of the table of chance upon which she witnessed many wonders, Isilmewen would never sever her ties to her kin and friends.

But such thoughts had to wait. Isilmewen felt the tension in her body, like her own bowstring when it was ready to let fly. Something felt amiss. And she was determined to find out what it was. 

While the others held his attention, and he theirs, Isilmewen's gaze went to the trees beyond the man's grove. As she spotted Dax making slight movements, she gave a slight nod, as she continued to scan and keep her wits. She would shift her balance and position, move enough in an attempt to pierce the natural concealment that might block from sight the man's companions, whom they had only seen the prints of prior. If she could spot them before any ambush were made, that alone might bring the tilt of fortune back into favor for the group, even if this man had tried to rig the encounter his way.

(Similar to Dax, but instead of going for a flank, Isilmewen is going to take opportunity to try and maintain awareness of their surroundings, even if it might need a bit of movement to get a better view through the foliage. She has reason to believe that his owlbear companion(s) might be nearby, as they were also part of the trail) 

Eol got the idea I put forward  

Hard for me not to be a bit overprotective of Dak at this particular scenario because I'm reminded of a similar scenario that went badly...

Isilmewen reasons that the bird returning or not confers about the same information either way, so stays her bow at this point. But you can bet that if it shows up again without some sort of missive that she'll be ready to shoot it then. "Once may be coincidence, but twice? Twice is not chance." 

Either way, her proposal is an indirect routing, to track and follow without being directly on their path. It might offer more safety in obscuring our group's movements to any adversaries expecting us to follow their steps exactly, but will take longer to get to our destination, wherever that may end up being.

To make sure they're on course, Isilmewen offers to be the one to go back and forth to check the trail. 

Isilmewen frowned as she looked at the bird. Though wariness may prompt the instinct to fire first, she hesitated. On the one hand, she understood Raudhri's words, but at the same time...

"If it is scouting behind, then not returning is as much a message as returning like it is right now," Isilmewen reasoned, "And on the offhand chance it is familiar to someone who could be called friend, I'd rather not have to explain its loss to them. That said, I'm in full agreement with Mae'rel. But as to how we go about this..."

"It'll take longer, but rather than scouting straight ahead on this trail to close the distance, we might instead consider traveling parallel while checking the trail on occasion to ensure our heading as we go, similar to the predator stalking elusive prey. As benefit, none of us will be headed straight into ambush if they indeed try to set something directed towards their tail and this exact path known to both them and us."

"I can check the trail as we go, and if we notice evidence of camp or settlement, then our friend Dak might be able to gleam information on our possible quarry without alerting them then" Isilmewen offered

Quitting the cave was simple enough with investigation as complete as was possible. Isilmewen was full glad to be outside again, breathing deep of the fresh air to cleanse the unsavory smells from the owlbear den from her lungs. Every time she set foot outside dwelling, whether animal, Syl or otherwise, that first breath was always a reminder of the freedom offered by the wild.

After taking that moment to feel, Isilmewen's gaze turned to the ground. Amidst all the foot traffic, the group's included, it was a bit tricky to isolate the prints she was after.

"It's definitely been some time since they were here last," Isilmewen spoke as she looked around the nearby grounds, "For a blessing, that does mean that it's likely been long enough that they've no reason to suspect pursuit. But at the same time, that also means following will be harder. Rosariel, see anything amiss?"

[possible tag: Rosariel]

Between both their efforts, Isilmewen picked back up the trail, and honed in on the path. Isilmewen even took to following the footprints with her own, partially measuring the gait against her own, and partly because...

"This feels familiar," Isilmewen noted after a while of tracking, "In the sense that if I were traveling alone, I'd take similar footings. Whoever it is, they're no stranger to walking softly amidst the forest, even when alone."

[tag: Rosariel to point out that they're not alone because bear prints ] 

Isilmewen blinked at that, a sheepish look crossing her face as her focus didn't let her register the other prints as aligning. Now that her attention was brought to them, she quickly stepped over to examine them. She frowned a bit, "I'm not sure they're just bears," she mused.

"And they travel alongside them freely," Isilmewen didn't need to say more to know the others would pick up on how bizarre that was. 

For her own thoughts, she had to wonder, what did it take for an owlbear to accept a humanoid in such a way? Did they borrow the same scent, perhaps a manner of appearance as borrowing their feathers in their attire?

Many questions continued to fill Isilmewen's mind even as she helped the others with identifying a suitable location and setting up camp.

(a before-camp post, will add a camp and/or post-camp post as appropriate) 

Shiny and silky offerings for feathers of night

With such majestic feathers might one take flight

See world aloft as world below

Where to now does that raven go? 

As Isilmewen wandered the cave, taking care in her step as she examined the ground for any other steps she could identify, her expression turned oddly serious when she saw them. The imprints of deliberate steps, taken in an owlbear cave?

"We're not the only ones to have entered here on foot," Isilmewen spoke, putting voice to her thoughts as she worked through them.

"They're scattered, but unrushed, I can't put a time frame to the when on this firm and sheltered ground," she continued, moving from set to set as she found more samples, "Prints from multiple trips, that's the only way to explain the lack of a pattern. They're... Calm. Far too calm."

Isilmewen stopped at a print, perhaps the best impression she had found of the set, "Shape, size... Suggests Sylvari. A Sylvari here, several times, calm, the owlbears ignored them ... Why?"

Her gaze turned to the corpses of the owlbears themselves, a burning question nagging at the back of her mind, "This is a nest, and yet..." she returned to the huntress, "Rosariel... Do these creatures have a tendency to eat even their young?" she couldn't help but hope that explained the absence of such.

(tag Rosariel ) 

"Then the only explanation that remains is..." Isilmewen grit her teeth. It was one thing if these creatures had, by happenstance, found shelter and made an unfortunate home here. It was quite another if it was premeditated.

"Someone bred these creatures, and claimed their eggs."

With the unexplained Sylvari tracks

• If there is a solid impression, does the footwear imprint resemble something more suited to travel, or something more refined?


• If there's any close enough together to indicate a stride distance, can their pace be described as slow or fast?


• If they're in seemingly random locations, are they also in seemingly random directions too? Or overall pointed towards one or two places?