Evinthas Faravanilas
A12: Memorial Gardens District
It's Variday, Callem 27 12:01:12 1020. The full moon isn't up. The tide is low and slack. Towering white clouds drift slowly through the blue sky. It's hazy and hot, and the glare of the sun seems to drain the color from the landscape.
Another sweltering summer day in the City, and traffic is moving like lifeblood pulsing through the veins and arteries of the City.
Suddenly, a pair of wild elves appear, as if by teleportation, on the grass before the statue of Crown Princess Lianna Rena. The two are both males, one, Ga'Elian. The other is wearing moccasins, a loincloth, a sort of breastplate made of small, linked bones, a crown of antlers, and a cape of feathers. The strange Sylvanori walks nimbly, with a staff, and although his face is timeless, his countenance bespeaks centuries of experience.
"Peasse to you," Svarshan says warmly. The sith-makar is sitting on one of the benches--concrete benches, a material that stands against Alexandria's wet winters and hot summers. He wears the colors and cloth of Am'shere, a contrast, much like the sylvanoris', to the lands around them. He holds a slate in one hand, a piece of chalk in another. Beside him, a cotton bag of some type, that smells faintly of salt.
Ga'Elian turns at the paladin's greeting. He smiles then says to his companion, "Well is this not fortuitous?" He guides the other to turn and gestures toward Svarshan. He says, "And to you, Lord Svarshan. May I introduce you to Evinthas, Chief Elder of the Faravanilas. Chief Elder, this is one of the leaders of the community I spoke to thee about, Mictlan. He serves Eli and serves the Empress of his people."
"Peasse to you," Svarshan says after a time. "Thiss one has not heard of the Faravanilas, nor sshared words of them. They are of your people?" he asks and directs the question of them both, though primarily Ga'Elian. He lowers the slate, and one could see a number of words on it, and symbols.
Evinthas seems content to allow Ga'Elian to respond to the question, but does take the opening to extend his own greetings. He says in and old style of Draconic, although with a Sildanyari accent, "Peace be unto your nest, Svarshan."
Ga'Elian raises an eyebrow at the chalk sigils, but simply explains, "Faravanilas is the name of my tribe. We are one of several tribes of the Sylvanori that dwell in the vast forests surrounding Llyranost. I had recently flown home to beg the assistance of my tribe and any of our fellow tribes that might be willing to come to perform our ancient ritual of healing upon the land. Since the lich's destruction, there have been many and varied symptoms of the land's sickness. My people are reclusive but deeply committed to sustaining the natural life energies of Ea, and we keep alive the lore of the Destroyer and the mischief he wrought upon the Great Ygdrassil before the sundering of the Sildanyar."
Evinthas continues: "When Ga'Elian presented his petition to our tribal council, there were voices that said that such maladies are not a sufficient cause for alarm to justify performing the Estellen Calen before the view of other races, but when he pointed out the extent of the problems observed so far, and that one of the mighty saplings of the Great Tree was threatened, we consented to come. I am here in advance to see the situation for myself, but felt it worth a side trip to inform the Llyranesi ambassador of our plans. Ga'Elian was about to take me to the embassy."