"Vestiges of Solace" Log Date: 10/25/02 Log Cast: Ynderra (emitted by Oriolle), Rillwhisper (emitted by Oriolle), Leetah, Doreel (emitted by Oriolle), Fhen (emitted by Oriolle) Log Intro: The expedition led by Rillwhisper to the hidden grove of Doreel has reurned--with results none of the combined party of elves and humans could have foreseen. For oh, yes, they've settled that Doreel did not make the monsters that had attacked both the Plainsrunners and the humans from Vrae; Doreel himself has sent it, and there is only truth in sending. But the Wolfbringer and her compatriots have also discovered that Doreel has kept a captive within his private realm: a she-elf he calls Oriolle, whom he has driven as mad as himself with his magic and his shaping, trying to turn her into a tree. Aghast, Rillwhisper's party has subdued Doreel and wrapstuffed both him and the maiden he's warped with his power. And they've brought them back to Lostholt, much to the disturbance of those who dwell there--like Strongbow. But the healers of Lostholt--Leetah and Ynderra--cannot turn away anyone who needs the solace of their power. Even insane Firstborns. ---------- After weeks of waiting, with a good portion of the Holt gone a-wandering, the group led by Rillwhisper has returned. They're minus one of the Vraeyan humans, as the lad called Maerro has elected to return to his people, but the one called Arnos -- and Wordgiver, by Wayfound -- has made a quiet camp on the boundaries of the Holt. Wayfound and Tefin have remained there with him for the time being, while Rillwhisper, Woodhawk, Trollkiller, and Ynderra have come into the Holt proper... and brought their burdens with them. "They're in here," Ynderra murmurs, arriving at the entrance to Calmwind's long-vacant den, which Nightwisp has seen to airing out. The black-haired healer is whispering, albeit irrationally; the two in the wrapstuff cocoons within aren't, after all, exactly likely to hear her. Behind her, Rillwhisper lingers with an alert look in her green eyes, though the Wolfbringer's stance speaks ever so slightly of uncertainty. "This is out of my depth," she admits to Leetah. "Ynderra can probably tell you more than I, but I'll stay, if you think you'll need me around." Throughout the ensuing chaos that the arrival has wrought upon the dark-skinned healer's senses, Leetah has up to this point mantained a quiet vigil over the activity transpiring within the den. Her hands are clasped before her, while a wary yet calm expression bears down on her features. Standing next to Rillwhisper, she listens as the other female speaks, dark green eyes never leaving the two wrapstuffed cocoons. There is a firm resolution about her to finish what needed to be done, yet she is also nervous. It will be a considerable drain on her part, no doubt. "I see," she responds quietly after Rillwhisper had spoken her piece, "I will see what I can do. If you would like to stay, it would be appreciated. The more support we have in this matter, the better.." The Wolfbringer nods, simply, silently, and leans against the edge of the den's opening. There's something of Strongbow, almost, about her expression -- and no surprise, given the bond between her and the silent archer. Her intent to therefore stay on hand needs no vocalizing, and no sending, for that matter. Ynderra turns to the older healer then, her own uncertainty visible in her big blue eyes, though it does not appear to dim her current determination. "Which, um... do you want to look at first, Leetah?" she asks, just a touch tentatively. Though perhaps she isn't conscious of it, there's a certain suggestion to her that she's nervously avoiding looking at the larger of the cocoons -- the one that holds the Firstborn. Leetah frowns slightly, a silent thanks to Rillwhisper through unspoken terms shifting its way across the room to Ynderra. Once focused on the younger healer, the message relayed is different. A troubled gaze wanes and waxes between mild anxiety and deep caution. Willing herself to speak it, she nods. "We should start with the most difficult of the two, for the greatest obstacle should be overcome before we concentrate on smoothing out the rest of the wrinkles." Her eyes slide to the largest of the cocoon's pointedly, resignation chasing across her emerald eyes before they move on Ynderra once again. "Do you feel you are ready, friend?" If Ynderra's eyes are any indication, the younger healer isn't entirely comfortable with her dusky teacher's assertion of what's to be done here -- but the daughter of Tyleet lifts her chin and does a credible job of nodding almost as stoically as Rillwhisper. "As ready as I can get," she admits sheepishly. With that, she turns to face Doreel's cocoon, hauling a shuddering breath into her chest, but also gesturing for Leetah to dictate what happens first. Tinily, she goes on, "He was angry when we subdued him. We probably don't want to cut the cocoon open yet." Leetah nods in agreement with Ynderra, angling her body around so that she is able to move on the other side of the cocoon, opposite the other healer. Now standing nearly on tip-toe, Leetah reaches above her head, her delicate hands hovering inches from the wrappings shrouding Doreel from the waking world. With a tip of her head, she indicates for Ynderra to step closer. "I do not believe I have ever tried a healing within wrapstuff, but I think it may be possible to.. to soothe somewhat that which was left flustered before the true work begins. Will you aid me in this attempt?" "He's wounded," Rillwhisper puts in then, gruffly. "I stabbed him in the shoulder. And hit him over the head with my knife pommel." Ynderra nods in affirmation, both to Rillwhisper's words and Leetah's request, stepping carefully over the lower end of the cocoon to take up a position opposite that of the chieftain's lifemate. Lifting her hands, though keeping them a slight span away from Fallberry's wrapstuff until given the word, the younger healer breathes, "Aye. I just hope we can do this...!" Leetah echoes that sentiment plainly. "Yes, for all of our sakes." With a shuttered veil over her gaze, the healer carefully places her dark hands over the preserver silk at the head of the cocoon, her eyelids fully closing. Without looking to Ynderra, she nods a signal for the youth to do the same. At first, the Sunfolk only feels the soft covering of the wrapstuff, a thin yet strong barrier between herself and the Firstborn inside. She finds the source of that which she had practically known all of her life; her healer's ability. It grows as a secondary heat in her fingertips, pulsing and seeping past the wrapstuff. "Calm him, but do not attempt to mend just yet." Her voice wafts over to Ynderra, seemingly disembodied to some extent. Ynderra's hands are pale where Leetah's are dark, and ever so slightly more muscular as the dainty she-elf _is_ a Wolfrider and does not stint in the demonstration of it. But though the look of her hands may contrast, where power is concerned they are sisters indeed. The aura that kindles into being about the hands of Tyleet's daughter is only slightly less bright than that of Leetah's, and only the slightly greener tinge of the glow lets it be distinguished as springing up from within the younger healer rather than the older. The intermingled light reflects back from Ynderra's eyes -- and from Rillwhisper's, as well. And as it grows, there can be sensed a stirring within the wrapstuff. Not a physical one, but a distinct ripple of what can only be power. Leetah gasps audibly, expecting a great depth to the Firstborn's powers, but not so much that it is a tangible waver of heat, like a sizzle of frying heat below the pads of her fingertips. Two green orbs flash open in retaliation, and she sends a look of surprise down to Ynderra. Quickly extinguishing this lapse, she returns to the task at hand. Once more she begins to seek the goal within, feeling beneath the exterior of the wrapstuff as soothing, repetitive waves lap their way into the mind of their patient. It is difficult to find a way past the defenses, for in fact there are many. With practiced patience, Leetah concentrates solely on finding a way to ease the one inside the cocoon, nothing more. Her energies intermingle with Ynderra's, increasing the power tenfold. With the stirring of power comes the stirring of the mind behind it. Petalwing once said to the Wolfriders that wrapstuff does not stop 'think-do magic' -- and now is no exception, as a scattered sending whose power is not particularly diminished by the fragments within it blazes up from beneath the layers of power the healers are weaving. ** You will not take-- ** At the entrance of the den, Rillwhisper draws in a breath. The Wolfbringer can feel the hairs on the back of her neck standing up with the magic beginning to flow through this place; with no magic of her own but sending, the former Willowholt chieftess can only brace herself even as a basic, lupine corner of her being wants to take a step back from the building circle of light. For her, it is like being on the end of a building storm. Leetah furrows her eyebrows, splaying her digits across the expanse of the cocoon. She grits her teeth, grating the lower against the upper half as she responds to the sending through her modest ability of the magic. She isn't nearly a master of it, but she is at an adequate state, much more improved due to the work she has invested through time with Cutter over the many seasons. With a rush of resolve, she quells the first quakes of fear as she admonishes mentally in an open send. ** Be calm, we mean you no harm. We wish to help you... relax. ** Ynderra, for her own part, focuses upon pouring forth as much soothing strength to her own power as possible, cajoling the old one's frame to relax as best she can. The physical pain she can sense in him, even through the veiling wrapstuff, is something she can manage. The occupant of the cocoon, however, is clearly agitated now. ** _Oriolle_! ** comes his cry, partly panic, partly mad fury. ** You will not take her! I will not be alone again -- ** Power surges, making Ynderra abruptly jolt, and three vines abruptly surge forth out of the nearest wall of the den. "Timmorn's Blood," the younger healer blurts, whirling a hand free of Doreel's cocoon and pouring forth the other half of her power now into the living wood. The vines subside -- but Doreel's power does not. Not yet. Leetah draws in a quick breath, nearly a cry at the sudden presence of the vines invading the den. Her eyes become round with horror and fascination intertwined, but still she refrains from removing her hands from Doreel's cocoon. If anything, she is more hard pressed to keep them there. While Ynderra moves to intersect the advance of the obscene foliage, Leetah continues to lever her power into Doreel's mind with a drugging slowness. ** <> ** The waves of feeling are directed only at him now, and it takes nearly the full extent of her capabilities to do so. She had no idea it would be so hard. She desperately wishes to look up and see how Ynderra and Rillwhisper fare, but she has to keep a wary watch on Doreel. His very power makes her shiver. Rillwhisper has gone into a more wary position now, one lean hand involuntarily shot to her brightmetal knife at her side and green eyes flashing this way and that. No vines near her, not yet, but this may well simply be due to the greener hue of Ynderra's power flooding the den now. "I'm getting Fhen," she mutters abruptly, roughly, swiveling her head to toss a sending out into the Holt. As she does, the younger healer swallows hard, one hand pressed to where Doreel's shoulder must be and the other pressed against the den wall. Sweat beads Ynderra's brow, and she shoots a glance at Leetah that reflects her own aghast amazement. "Never... felt anything like it," she whispers, but it's the barest breath of a whisper. Almost all of her attention is locked into the outpouring of her magic. Under the golden wave of stupefying assurance, Doreel's panicked thoughts slow their whirling, ever so slightly, but his is an ancient mind. Images and sensations well through the link to wash over the dark beauteous healer, of a loneliness that has fed upon itself for longer than any in Lostholt have been alive. Of need and longing, of the strange silver-haired she-elf... or is she a tree? His hands have molded her, sunk her roots deep and called forth leaves from her limbs to drink in the life-giving sunlight, but the intruders have come to take his beloved Oriolle... But now, his mind starts, slowly, almost as a great wolf might stir in bemusement when a cub bumps into it. ** ** Leetah cringes as the visions tumultuously spill across her mind like a long-forgotten breeze, although they are not her memories and sensations. Almost as if merely resting her hands upon the wrapstuff brought along with it an acidic touch, Leetah falters for a divided span of seconds, flinching visibly. Her breathing becomes irratic and shallow, and she can only nod raggedly at what Ynderra has to say. "Almost.. too.. much.." It reminds her of touching Winnowill's mind, once upon a time. In comparison, however, this is far more than even Winnowill might have bargained for. The proffuse pain wracking her mentality becomes a shared one as she gives in to it, delving into the clouded anguish as tears begin to trail a pathway down the curvature of her cheeks. She feels the hurt, every degree of it. Inhaling brokenly, she glances over to Ynderra through a blur of tears. "H-He.. I-I... do you.. High Ones," she breathes. Ynderra apparently feels it, too, though with her power divided the brunt of it falls to the elder healer. Still, though, 'Derra's azure eyes have gone liquid, and it's all she can do to manage to gasp, "Y-you see? Let... let me try to brace you..." There comes a scrabbling sound outside the den, and Fhen's anxious face peeks in around Rillwhisper's shoulder. "Back up Ynderra," Rillwhisper murmurs sidelong to him, the authority in her tone a chieftain's for all that she no longer wears a topknot. Fhen, almost bowled over by the aura of power pouring of the den, gulps visibly, but places his hands inside against the walls and begins to send streams of shaping magic out into the wood, trying to insure that what Redlance shaped will stay the shape Redlance dictated. His power is a lesser light against the others'... but now, at least, it is there. And it lets Ynderra pull her other hand off the den wall and almost fall against Doreel, though she manages not to. Now her full healing strength rejoins Leetah's, even as she blurts, "Can we.. together? Too much for both of us?" "Together," Leetah intones, her tremorous voice barely perceived above a whisper. With all of her focus glued to her and Ynderra's combined efforts, she nearly misses Fhen's arrival. She notices all the same, but the recognition she gives him is brief. A light sheen has already appeared on her temple, and she nods once more to her willing student. Breaking off the words, she tries for speech again and finds it difficult to work the vocal chords she was born with. Opting for sending, she concludes hastily, ** Try, friend. Brace yourself, but give it your all. If we can subdue him long enough, perhaps... ** She leaves the rest unsaid. It is all hopeful wishing, really. Subduing a Firstborn as insane as Doreel strikes Ynderra as tantamount to trying to tame a rampaging bear -- but Rillwhisper is watching, and Leetah is watching, and sheer stubborn pride inspires 'Derra to set her shoulders and her chin and redouble the current of power she directs into the confined ancient. ** ** bubble up through the light she produces from deep within the wellspring of her being, and as it floods forth Rillwhisper and Fhen involuntarily both shake their heads a moment, almost persuaded to relax right then and there by the force of healing power. Leetah triples the effort as well, indulging only in the feel of the magic swimming and stirring through her limbs, pouring out beneath her fingers and into Doreel. A sagging entropy nearly overtakes her body, and she fights off her own sense of fatigue, ironic though it was. The tears that have assaulted her visage have dried in salty paths, but she isn't far from another onrush of their liquid being. Her emotions mirror Ynderra's nearly perfectly, as both healers beseech the ancient being beneath their touch to relax and find whatever vestiges of solace he can in their abilities. It is gut-wrenching work, with no pay but plenty of benefits if accomplished. Engulfed in both sides by the combined might of the pair of healers, the being within the cocoon seems to grow further confused... and to settle down, slowly, almost painfully slowly. His sending does not diminish in its strength, but now it begins to blur and change, his sharp, edgy panic sliding into a hazed, dreamful bemusement. ** O.... Oriolle....? ** Fhen blinks owlishly, in the meantime, biting his lip as he whispers sidelong to Rillwhisper, "Two-Spear's Madness, he's..." "This madness has nothing to do with Two-Spear," the Wolfbringer mutters. [The scene was never finished; it is assumed to be round one in Ynderra and Leetah's attempts to heal Doreel, which are later joined by Mender. End log.]