It takes a few moments for some of ther adventurers stomachs to endure the exhilirating thrill of gliding through the air astride the giant owls. For their part, the elven pilots seem cognizant of this fact and refrain from partaking in any of the aerial acrobatics the party had previously observed. In short, the wild elves take it easy on the outlanders, though in truth, a few might be sorely tempted to push the limits just to get a rise out of these strange folk.

In any event, the giant owls are silent as they wing through the gloom, apparently able to navigate effortlessly through the darkness. Your elf escorts are also silent, aside from softly pointing out some dimly glimpsed landmark far below from time to time.

Before long, you reach your destination. Rising from the marsh is a low hill of solid ground, encircled by a thick ring of trees. Dozens of pinpoints of light dot the hill--small lanterns filled with fireflies, each hanging from a tree-platform or the upper reaches of a conical tent. Many elves silently emerge to watch as you fly overhead. Killiar produces a sleek, silver horn of some sort from a saddlebag and blows on wailing note similar to a loon's cry.

Near the hill's peak stand three trees, and built into their boughs are wooden structures. One glows softly with luminescence of its own and seems to be a temple. Another looks to be some sort of public building or town hall. The third, and your destination, is the smallest of the three--a cozy-looking tree house set above a large pool.

Killiar lands first, gliding his owl onto the porch of the tree house. With a swift, practiced motion, he effortlessly helps Eoni off the back of the owl. Moments later, the remaining owls deposit their charges one at a time, before they wing off to their nest, somewhere in the trees to the south.

The adventurers' legs are wobbly and the world seems to sways back and forth beneath them, the sensation of solid ground (albeit in the form of a raised wooden porch, high above the marsh), incongruous.

"Wait here," Killiar says. Then, he steps inside the adjoining building, the cozy-looking tree house seemingly woven into the tree itself.

Though there does not seem to be any elves immediately visible, the adventurers each have the sensation they are being watched by scores of scrutinizing eyes just beyond the gloom.

Twenty feet below the porch, the party hears what sounds like gurgling water. A cluster of four tree houses, hide and wood shelters similar to the one Killiar just stepped into, are visible nearby. Beyond these, keen-eyed party members will spot scores of surface shelters spread across the marsh, these also hide and wooden structures similar to wigwams. Taken together and judging by the number of faerie-like fires illuminating the surreal landscape, the whole of this Tiri Kitor village appears to consist of at least one hundred, if not more small homes.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:17, Sat 07 Apr 2018.

 After having flown Owl Air, all Marklin was heard to comment...." I need a drink."

Aldara successfully fights a vicious bout of vertigo, and an even more vicious urge to disgorge what she hadn't already while unconscious.  She mumbles something about cabbage juice, and then shakes her head, smacking her lips.

"We're here to stop the evil growing in Rhest," Eoni reminded the others.  "If we can convince them this war is theirs as well, all the better.

"Be nice," she added without singling anyone out for the admonishment.

The Sister had been worried that their weight may have been too much for the owls, but had been amazed by their short flight.  When she'd left her cloister, she would never have guessed partaking in such an exhilarating experience.  It seemed so long ago, but still counted only in weeks, not months.

A few moments after stepping inside the strange building nestled within the eaves of the great willow tree, Killiar emerges and motions for the adventurers to enter. Stepping through a threshold of twisted roots, vines and leaves, the adventurers' emerge into a small front room, its walls constructed of an artful mixture of living wood, blooming flowers, and stretched animal hide. Killiar motions for the party to enter into an adjoining parlor.

Waiting inside is a wise-looking and ancient elf. She wears flowing golden and green robes, and her hair is braided around a complex headdress made of wicker and wood. She stands next to a much younger female elf in plain brown and green robes who looks to have been crying recently. The younger elf is seated in a large wicker chair, and the standing elf indicates nearby chairs for you. Behind the party, Killiar the hunter takes a silent stance near the door.