Palo's Dream in Silvus

This was a sleep of a thousand miles, a million steps and weary eyes matched our fatigued legs. This dream is more than that. Deeper into the chaos of my consciousness I ride the vision. Alayah was there singing by the river.
Palo walked away from his sister for an unusual pull drew him to the forest. As he approached the tree line he heard a sharp bird call Sur’rel Palo paused for a moment gathering the direction of bird and Dashed into the woods. Walking through the lush forest was hard and Palo was used to a wide orchard but soon the vines and gigantic leaves entangled him and covered his vision. Movement became impossible he was stuck wrapped up caught in a spider’s web. Palo called out to the forest. “Help! Anyone, Sur’rel?” The vines shifted beneath his feat and twisted together pulling earth in with it. Soon it was crouched in front of him having taken much of the foliage to form, but Palos arms and legs were bound now taunt he was a prisoner to nature. It then stood facing away from him and spoke slowly. “Are you Palo?” He could sense no threat to him despite the vines. “Yes, and who ar…” Palo found himself speechless, for she has turned to face him only inches away. He could see every vine and her bark and leaves that made up her face. The elegant flowers and stalks lining the edges of her head down to her neck. It was alive all of it her whole skin seemed to move it was beautiful. “That is same look as the first human I saw gave me. Right before Nermal pulverized his skull.” Palo stopped gazing to think about the name Nermal “That’s an odd name I swear I’ve heard it before…” The vines began to let off growing back into the ground. The forest began to shrink and large light began rising on the horizon. “QUICK! Where are you and where are you going!” Sur’rel grabbed Palo’s shoulders, her hands covered in flesh. She was now in her skin of the elves her stunning green eyes captured Palo. “We’re camped in Silvus. Then to Varencia and Fort Khalm, then south to Physelia.” Sur’el’s eyes widened as the light grew over them washing everything out. “I shall be with you by Fort Khalm.” Palo could see nothing but white light but he could feel lips on his. “Mother never told me there where beings like you. You need to go Home Palo.”
Then Bastien in his White clothes and white hair came in and sat by my side. I’m awake again I can tell by the look on his face the meeting with the Counsel didn’t go well. “I know you don’t have any good news for me. So why don’t I go first?” Palo said as he sat up, Bastien scoffed with a sly smile on his face and took the chair next to Palo small cot. “You’re going to have a new team member. And when she gets here I’ll be leaving for the Fey to rally troops.” Bastien sighed and leaned back in the small chair. “Who is this New Member and how do you know any of this.” Palo points to his head. “Even as a child I was master of Dreamspeech” Bastien leaned forward intrigued. “I meet her in a dream; a beautiful Elf with green eyes behind her skin lays Nature’s fury.” Palo shuttered at the thought of Sur’rel her vision fresh in his mind.

(OOC: I'm going to write this under the impression that you will edit your previous post, so that it takes place BEFORE Bastien's team departs for the south, like we talked about!)

Bastien's brow furrowed.

"A new team member? And you say that you've only seen her in your dreams?" The young human--who felt years older than his scant twenty-one summers after over two years of war--shook his head. "Forgive me for my short-sightedness, perhaps, but what in the hell are you talking about? We need you Palo. You're the only one on the team who can report back to the council via dreamspeech if anything happens to me. You are a great leader, one who can rouse the spirits of the others with but a whispered song, or a subtle melody from your violin." Bastien paused, sitting down upon a stool in Palo's tent running his hands over his weary face. He let out a mighty sigh, his body quavering with exhaustion.

The past two years had not been kind to the young duelist. Mission, after mission, after mission--most of them requiring every bit of skill and training that he had--had taken their toll on him, leaving his once-charming face a shadow of its former self. His eyes were surrounded by deep, black circles, and his blue eyes themselves shone far dimmer than they had before; his cheeks were sunken, his complexion pallid, and his once-lustrous white-blonde hair now hung limp and tangled about his shoulders. He had lost weight, as well, the result of too little food and too much strenuous activity, and he now appeared positively gaunt, where once he'd simply been lean. When he looked back up at Palo, he had the look of a defeated man.

"Do as you must, my friend," Bastien told the elf, "but I fear that I have little hope in your plan. The elves are scattered, broken, and leaderless. You've heard the rumors, you know that--by all reports--King Erutaron was killed in the sacking of Elefindiel." Once again, Bastien shook his head, drawing his dagger in a lightning fast movement that almost defied physics and using it to absently clean dirt out from under his fingernails. "He left no successor, Palo. Some of the elves say that there is some distant cousin or nephew wandering about with the King's sword, but they are rumors at best. Face it, Palo: the elves are finished here. Let them leave to whatever realm it is that they are escaping to. At least their troubles are over..."

Palo remained silent, and Bastien wondered if perhaps his words had injured the prideful elf.

"You are wrong," Palo suddenly said, a sad smile upon his lips. "You are wrong, Bastien. The elves are scattered, true, but we are far from broken. There is much magic in us yet, and much strength in arms, and soon I will lead them into battle beside you and your people, and we shall win a glorious victory."

"I wish I could believe you, truly I do," Bastien responded somewhat bitterly. "But I fear that we will never see an end to this war. We don't have enough men, not in all the lands of Vilnis, not in the ragged remnants of my own, lost Frontia, not in the tumultuous, confused, handful of soldiers who have remained loyal to King Lehris in Westenra..." He paused, looking up to meet Palo's eyes. "Not in the scattered, leaderless elves..."

Sensing that he may have finally crossed some line with his friend, Bastien hurriedly changed the subject.

"Tell me more this new teammate that you propose should take your place," he said with mock lightness, trying to lift the dark mood that had come upon him. "Your's are large shoes to fill, you know, and I have little faith that this woman of whom you speak can possibly be your equal."

Palo smiled. If he was insulted or angered by Bastien's words, he showed no sign of it. He withdrew from its case his violin, a beautiful instrument of dark cherry-tinted wood. It was as nothing when compared to his former instrument; that ivory violin had been truly magnificent, a work of art as much as anything else, and to this day Bastien felt a twist in his stomach when he remembered how he had smashed it years ago, to free Palo from the influence of his spectral ancestor, Palo the First. With a soft sigh, Palo ran his fingers over the strings with one hand as he pulled the instrument's bow out from the case with his other. After tightening the horsehair of the bow, he began tuning the instrument quietly, slowly, lovingly. It needed no tuning, Bastien knew, for Palo never let the sun set on a day without caring for the violin (not even when in the field, which had resulted in no small amount of heated words between the two men).

"There is little to tell, really, beyond what I've already said," Palo told the human softly, humming to himself, using his perfect pitch to make sure his violin was properly tuned. "That she draws her nature from the very power of the world around her is obvious, but there are many such folk who do the same, so it is impossible really to tell her true nature," he paused, his smile broadening as he added, "no pun intended." Bastien shook his head at the feeble attempt at humor and gestured absently with his dagger that the elf should go on. "All the same, I sense a great power in her, something very raw, very primal... It is unusual, what one may expect to find in the heart of a very old forest. And I mean very old; a forest the likes of which no longer exists upon this world."

"Is that important?" Bastien asked, his curiosity piqued. "I mean, forgive me for my possible ignorance, but does that mean something in particular, to you as an elf, I mean?"

Palo rested the instrument upon his lap, his expression turning to one of deep thought. "I do not know, really. All I can say is that her nature seems as alien to me as mine, perhaps, does to you."

"I don't understand," Bastien admitted, shaking his head. "You speak in riddles, my friend, and I fear that my mind is far too befuddled to make any attempt at solving them."

Palo simply flashed the weary man a quick, roguish smile. "Perhaps, when your mind and body are rested, you will figure it out. And when you do so, please be sure to let me know as well, for if indeed I am speaking in riddles, then they are riddles to which I also do not know the answers." He stood and opened the flap of his tend, letting in the cold, autumn air of northern Vilnis. "Go now and rest, Bastien. You look positively awful; I've seen corpses who look more alive than you. You need sleep, and food, and a few days spent in peace with your friends, and with your father."

Bastien nodded. "We will speak more on this tomorrow. I'm still not entirely keen on you just up and leaving, whether you have a replacement lined up or not." His eyes took on a distant, worried look, and his mouth turned down into a frown as he went on. "I cannot force you to stay, Palo. You journey with me of your own free will, and you owe no allegiance to me, or to Frontia, or even to Vilnis. But I like to think that I am your friend, Palo, and that you wouldn't simply hang me out to dry without a bit more information about what you intend to do..."

With that, Bastien stepped out into the blustery northern weather, making his way toward his own tent lightly and quickly.

Palo watched until the nimble duelist was out of sight, pondering his friend's words and thinking long and hard about the decision that, unknown to Bastien, had already been made.

Palos mind drifted off into the past like it often did. Bastien’s presence had molded visions into his mind; I thought we had finally reached the end. Palo said to himself. When the walls slid to reveal an even larger trap than any of us had anticipated. I knew what I had inside, I knew I was weak. I put them all in danger; if it wasn’t for Bastien I would still be enslaved. The image of his ivory violin being shattered against the brick wall still struck him light lightning. For a moment he hated Bastien, but he knew those were just fragments of his grandfather’s brain. Palo stood walking to the tent door carrying his case; the need to play once more has taken over his will. The surrounding fires made the night red like the bowls of hell. The blacksmiths worked into the night preparing weapons for the next battle, their pounding a systematic beat. Palo knelt before reaching a gathering around a central flame; he set the case on the ground and unwound the leather from its latch. With each pass he could feel the desire growing. The case top flew open revealing the rich cherry violin. Knowing that it was tuned to perfection he began playing as he walked into a large crowd of soldiers and renegades.
By then everyone had ears and eyes to the elf stalking the fire with violin in hand. The music was loud and flamed up like the fire itself, all the fire in camp seemed to grow dancing with the tones. Then as the music shifted into a fast rhythmic harmony the flames took the shapes of demons and other evil foes. The crowds back up in fear the blacksmiths hammer pounding in the background.
The flames died down inches above coal. The music drawing the crowds closer to the fires again, then small flame figures started marching in the fire. Larger and larger until the flame roared, the flames were elves bold and powerful.
The fires extinguished themselves leaving the soldiers in awe with what they’ve just seen. Palo somberly walked back to his tent the need to play dead just like the fires. Many soon turned in as well with the fires unable to be lit again.