Ground Level

[Warlord]

Once a subject manages to bypass the enchantment of the Mythal on the forest floor that subject has the opportunity to see the well kept surroundings of the tower's base. The ground is covered in short, soft grass from the edge of the Mythal inward all the way around the Shadowtop trees that form the various portions of the tower itself. Short flowers peak through the grass coverage here and there, mostly in the form of daisy's and buttercups. The grounds receive no maintenance but remain perfectly manicured due to the power of the magical enchantments the ancient elves left on the place.

Ever since the Tower of the People was taken over by the Eilistraeen Drow, the ground level has served on and off as a camp ground for excess guests who lack the rank to be made space upstairs. Drow soldiers accompanying the house leaders more often than not, thus few have been inclined to complain as the same branches that protect the open roof area from rain protect the lower area as well.

For the time being this area has been cleared in preparation of the arrival of the diplomatic envoys from the handful of Elven cousins who have had minimal contact with them thus far.

[Warlord]

Hallistra Melarn dusts a speck of dark colored dust from her cape's left shoulder in an effort to ignore the nearly palatable tension that was in the air behind her. She stands at the foot of the stairs that spiral up the trunk of the towering tree that stands at the center of the Mythal induced clearing. Mithral chain gleaming in silvery brightness, white cape and pleasant smile all fixed in place, she is the very image of welcoming clerical Drow authority. And she was. A High Priestess of Eilistraee and Matron Mother of House Melarn, Hallistra had been chosen for this endeavor by her fellow priestesses almost unanimously due to her being ranked in the faith only behind the Goddess' Chosen and Her Champion, of which only one existed at the moment. That made her second in influence and prestige. Her House was strong as well, putting her high in the political and military structure of the new Nation as well. Now, if she could just broker peace with these cousins in Elven blood while keeping her sons from killing each other.

Hallistra turns suddenly. "Now both of you stop glaring at each other." Both of the younger but taller Drow males blink and turn their attention to her obediently. If Nailo and Kal'esril Melarn, First and Second boys of House Melarn respectively, loved each other so firmly as they loved their mother and House they would have easily been the most dangerous force in the entire Nation. As it was, they both had made leaps and strides in support of their House and parents yet still despised one another. "This is an important event, an absolutely vital diplomatic gathering in which we have to show ourselves to be more than our curse and cultural conditioning. The last thing they need to see is you two indulging in your darker urges for no better reason than it has become a habit. Now, stand up straight and compose yourselves into a united front.

She turns back and recomposes her own expression to erase any trace of what had just transpired as she spies the three diplomatic parties coming toward the Mythal's border. She didn't wait to see if they obeyed her, she knew that they would without a moment's hesitation. One was far too loyal to think of procrastinating and the other was too politically savvy to risk the same.

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Nailo Melarn turns his attention away from his younger brother and onto his mother's words instantly. So long as she commanded attention he had nothing to fear from Kal, the younger warrior would never dare use such a moment to strike at him. Instead he focuses on his superior and listens respectfully to her every word. The 6ft Drow warrior even slumps his shoulders consciously in an attempt to put his superior at ease despite her lack of physical superiority. As soon as Hallistra finishes her reprimand he snaps to his full height and crosses his arms across his chest. Despite Hallistra's shorter stature at 5'6", having her two massive sons standing at her flanks would send the appropriate message of strength to the coming diplomats as soon as they passed through the outside of the Mythal and were able to actually see her and them. "Yes, Mother."

To make his silhouette even more imposing Nailo had elected to wear his black studded leather armor and his archer's cloak, a dark cape with a flap in the back designed to cover his bow and quiver when closed. It was currently quite open, displaying the black shafts and crimson fletching of his arrows of his right shoulder as well as the indeterminate sheen of an unusual metal composite long bow over his left. The rest of his features are classic Drow, a striking mix of dark and light.

[Kal'esrïl Melarn]

Kal'esril was decidedly slower to pull his eyes away from his elder brother, he had been on the short end of too many of Nailo's plots to trust him even when their mother was watching. When he does bring his attention to their mother Kal is already standing straight with the heels of his hands resting lightly on the pommels of his Elven Lightblades. He was more interested in impressing Hallistra than ingratiating himself to her, he considered his mother far too discerning to fall for false groveling at any rate. "Yes, Matron Melarn." Though his words were more formal his stance remained more casual in appearance though no less imposing than his brother's.

Like his brother, he had inherited their father's height and stood solidly at six feet tall. Unlike his brother he didn't have the same appearance of willowy height common to elves who reached that stature for he had also inherited their father's breadth of shoulders. While not as quick as his brother, he was built stronger and could best him in extended physical contests ever since they were both youths, despite Nailo having six decades on him. Solidly muscled, flat black skin, wildly cropped white hair, crimson eyes, and sharply defined handsome features round out Kal'esril Melarns physical features.

Black leather armor covers his form, except for where a bright red shirt peeks out the front of the jacket portion. Cloakless, his only visible weapons are a pair of wickedly designed Elven Lightblades hard strapped to his upper thighs, their slightly curved handles jutting out toward the front of his form. A sharp-eyed look inspects the coming groups as they near the Mythal's illusion border under Drow guidance. For a moment he cuts his eyes at his brother, then back the other way to make sure his Elven Hound was behaving itself. The dog just looks up ever so briefly from where it lies to his right flank before turning its attention to the approaching group. All was as it should be.

[Warlord]

The three representatives move along quietly, accompanied by their chosen seconds. All three pairs are surrounded by a honor guard of silent Drow warriors who have thus far been absolutely silent except for the announcement that the time had come for them to meet their host. Despite being deep within Drow territory the warriors are all alert and watchful of their surroundings as the entire group is led toward a nondescript section of the forest. Until, suddenly they are standing within the reaches of a multi-based tower facing a trio of immaculately dressed Drow: A small and gleaming female flanked by a pair of massive and shadowy males. All three, as all the other Drow the outsiders had seen thus far, are attractive and flawless.

From the Wild Elves comes the great Druid Amalie Dawnsinger, the leader of her tribe and one of the most forward thinking of her people. Carved bone jewelry, long and luxurious hair of raven black, tan skin and low stature encompass the woman as she strides along to the steady tap of her gnarled wood staff. Her chosen second, Ilyrana moves along at her side. Amailie's simple clothing is made of dark brown leather in the form of a single strap dress ending in a skirt cut at an angle to expose her right thigh, and the simple dagger strapped to it, while covering the opposite leg down to her calf. "My, Ily, but they do favor the theatrical don't they?" She speaks softly, so that only her second may hear.

From the Star Elves comes comes Cad'miun Delithil, a negotiator of great respect in the realm of his people. 5'9" and old even by Elven standards, the man wears his robes with a straight back that belies his age. Proud, but empathetic, he had gained his reputation by conducting the few peaceful contacts with the outside world his people possessed. By his side comes Auroa Duskshine. "Hm, curious." Cad'miun wasn't known for revealing his thoughts without cause.

From the Avariel comes Winged Father Aquilan Greatspan himself, the leader of the last known surviving home of his people: the Aerie of the Snow Eagles. This opportunity to regain contact with the cousins of his people was far too important to trust to a lesser and all agreed it should be approached with the greatest respect possible, thus their most respected member was dispatched. For his second he has selected his own nephew, Lysan Cloud. Aquilan is clothed in light but well made clothing that though simple in cut leaves his ability to fly unrestricted. As befits his long years in leadership he doesn't outwardly react to the scene before him except by looking respectful and pleased to be here.

[Auroa]

A lil silver smile flutters across Auroa's lavender face as the veil parts. Auroa's flanks Cad'miun in a formless silver robe that creating an interesting comparison to the Drow delegation. Auroa's loose silver hair hangs straight down blending into the robe. Auroa's eyes, nails, and lips are the same silver as the robe. she stands still and waits for Cad'miun or one of the other diplomats to start

[Lysan Cloud]

Walking next to his uncle, Lysan is having a very hard time not staring around like a country bumpkin on his first visit to the city. His posture was perfect: Back straight, Hair tied back, his chainmail had been polished until it looked new, wings held back, but not open, so it would be obvious he was not hiding anything. A bow and quiver occupy the space between his wings on his back and a longsword swung from his hip. It would take a hard look, though, to notice his eyes darting over everything they could see and absorbing it all. He was always bored with too much formality and "ritualistic pleasantries" as he always thought of them. However, Lysan was looking forward to anything here, as it would give him a chance to see more of all those things that most of his people greatly feared and hid from.

Idly wondering to himself how much of a fool he looks actually 'walking' down this road, rather than gliding in as would be more proper, still he does his duty and anticipates with pleasure the new experiences ahead...

[Ilyrana Sevayni]

The younger female walks beside the elder wild elf, keeping an eye on everything with piercing, teal eyes. It was disconcerting in a way, to be surrounded by a guard of drow, with strangers. She was already longing for these formalities to be over. But, outwardly, she did her absolute best to appear casual, walking with her head held even, shoulders back, standing at her full height.

Her clothing is of the same color and material as the druid's, but that is where the similarities begin to end. Ily is donned in a dark brown leather two piece outfit that covers scarcely more than is absolutely necessary. The top is halter tied with a braided cord, bottom a bikini covered by a single piece of leather, tied on one side as a mini skirt. Both are studded with what appears to be brass, the skirt is adorned with feathers, many of which seem to be owl or other bird of prey. Boots of a similar color complete the clothing she is wearing, the rest of her skin is left in view, a color closer to a chestnut than to her counterpart's tan. Her hair is currently tied back, two braids on either side of a bun done in leather cord. In her hair is a purple flower, it's stem wrapped into her hair directly so it's firmly in place. Daggers at her hip, and she carries a light staff, similar to Amalie's. Around her neck is a leather cord pendant, a small ,white stone hanging from it.

As the viel parts, she eyes the three awaiting them with curiosity and dread, keeping her expression cordial, polite. As Amalie speaks to her quietly, Ilyrana blinks twice, and nods very slightly. She'd just been thinking the same thing exactly, and unusual for her she adds to the conversation just as quietly. "Quite interesting."

This was all feeling far too formal for her liking. She licked her lips and straightened as much as she could as they approached the taller drow who had called them here. Best to look proud and exemplary of her race.

[Warlord]

Hallistra Melarn steps forward with open hands and an open smile. Her skin of absolute black contrasts starkly with the shining armor and white cape. "Welcome my friends, to a new Elven nation. Welcome to the Drow Nation of Cormanthor, where we hope to share with you our dream of a new beginning for all Elves anchored by the Drow, Eilistraee, and of course... the efforts of our friends and their own nations. I am Matron Mother Hallistra Melarn, leader of House Melarn." The Matron Melarn, as well as the rest of the leadership of the surface Drow, knew full well that none of the three possessed anything like a true nation. The closest were the Star Elves and theirs was quickly on the decline due to extra-dimensional invasion. But niceties were important in an uncertain world.

"Thus we have invited you here in complete trust. You are our guests, our friends, our allies... until you decide otherwise. Even a decision in the negative will not necessarily make you enemies, we want to assure you of this. We have no desire to fight anyone, and will respect neutrality as surely as we respect allies and enemies. While you are here know that you are not required to choose from these options on a deadline, your participation does not oblige you to one course or another, and that every Drow warrior in this forest will die in your defense before harm will be permitted to find you." She gestures lightly to the warriors that stand in what has become a loose formation around the diplomats. "These are your defenders, currently formed of those loyal to my own House Melarn as well as House Baenre. Understand that they are your defenders alone, you are not prisoners and are welcome to come and go as you please. In fact, in the next couple of days my own House Wizard will be keying portals to you that will allow you continuous and secure transport to and from your home cities and villages. These portals will only work for you and the objects you carry, but will allow you to confer with your people and even take revelry in your own homes should you wish it."

She turns suddenly, a sweeping arm clad in shining chain indicating the main structure of the tower as well as the two Drow warriors that both out sized their present fellows by at least 9 inches in height. "The Tower of Life is open to you in its entirety. These are my sons Nailo and Kal'esril, First and Second Boys of House Melarn respectively. Nailo is in command of the security forces here, if you have concerns on that front he is the warrior to speak to. Until things begin, please, let us lead you to your quarters so that you might refresh yourselves before our first official meeting." With that she takes a few steps aside, turning at the end with a cape flourish to allow the diplomats to pass by.

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Nailo steps forward and cuts a short bow to the gathering. "Come. My men and I will lead you." With that that the warrior cuts an about face and starts up the spiraling staircase that rises along the massive tree trunk. Three of the smaller Drow soldiers break off from their units to follow, stopping at the base of the stairs for the diplomats to go ahead so they could follow behind.

[Kal'esrïl Melarn]

Kal's eyes never waiver, they merely scan his opposites from head to toe as his house leader speaks about the niceties of diplomacy. It was his duty to size up the diplomat's seconds, something he was all too happy to do as the minutiae of politics bored him to tears. He rubs his thumbs against the handles of the two short blades he wears as he observes them openly, his hound cocking its head as it investigates a curious looking lizard perched on a branch far overhead.

From his point of view, and it was something he would tell his Matron Mother later, the Star Elf second seemed like a caricature of the Drow he had once seen a human artist paint when she decided she couldn't get enough detail out of black. The Avariel's wings were fascinating, even more so that his height, and the whole thing combined to remind Kal'esril of some of the marshland birds he had seen over the decades. Herons, he believed they were called in the Common tongue. For all their impressiveness, however, they were a tactical drawback on the ground as they represented a body part poorly built for offense and difficult to defend in melee. The Wild Elf... was just as fascinating but for a very different reason. Her clothing was, to his way of thinking, a vote of confidence in her host's ability to defend her from all possible threats. It made him proud, for though his brother was commanding the combined House forces Kal was the one who had trained this detachment of soldiers for their current duty. She also appeared to possess the kind of physicality that his own people valued so very highly, a side affect of living in similar surroundings no doubt.

When his mother turns and indicates him and his brother/rival he remains impassive, other than to continue investigating their guests. This continues until after Nailo finishes speaking and moves up the stairs toward the top. That's when Kal'esril steps forward to address the remainder of their guests. When he speaks his Elvish is sharp and spoken in a staccato pattern that differs noticeably from both his mother and brother, as if he had grown up with a different dialect. "The rest of you will come with me."

He suddenly turns and marches up the stairs himself, not looking back to see if the three followed him. He knew they would because they had duties as well.

[Warlord]

Amalie is the first to speak, though this is mostly due to her lack of formal training in diplomatic matters. Instead of stepping forward to address the center of the area, as a politician would, she merely speaks from where she stands. "I do not speak for the entirety of my people. But on behalf of my tribe I am prepared to listen to what you offer and carry your words back to our lands." It was short and to the point, but it promised nothing prematurely by sheer luck.

The wild one had spoken just as Cad'miun had begun to take his step forward, causing him to pause mid-step. She had given away her lack of experience right then and there, a interesting fact to note and keep for later. She would be an important swing vote in the coming months, if only for the fact that she could be swayed in almost any direction on a wide variety of topics. When she finishes he waits the appropriate beat, to see if the other diplomat would tilt his hand similarly, but steps forward when nothing is forth coming. "I am Cad'miun Delithil, the appointed representative of those known as the Mythril Elves. I have been authorized by my government to represent them in order to secure considerations in this negotiation." All government, the very image of a politician.

Aquilan waits until both the others have said their peace before he himself responds. Spreading his wings wide, though no where near their full span, he gives a smooth and stately bow to Hallistra. "Thank you for inviting us to this endeavor. I am Winged Father Aquilan Greatspan, leader of my people. I consider this a fortuitous event and look forward to getting to know our cousins in Faerun. Peace on your house." A powerful and wise man accustomed to an open and honest discourse among peers. He would not be manipulated, even if he chose to approach this matter with high hopes for its success.

All three hesitate but a moment after the three Drow have said their peace, giving a look to their respective seconds before moving on. A gesture of the hand from Cad'miun, indicating is permission for Auroa to be separated from him before he follows after Nailo. A sage nod and look of trust passes between Aquilan and his nephew, he new the boy could take care of himself and project the appropriate image of the Avariel. Amalie smiles warmly at her second, thinking of Ily as something akin to a fond niece. She speaks softly as she touches Ilyrana on the shoulder, "I'll want to hear all about it when you catch up, be safe." And then she follows after Nailo as well.

[Auroa]

Auroa turns to the other seconds and smiles saying "Hi i'm Auroa and you are?" taking a simple bow

[Lysan Cloud]

Lysan nods to his uncle as he heads up the stairs with the other dilomats, knowing his uncle would trust him to behave according to his station and duties. (even though what he really wanted to do was ask a thousand questions and stop to look at everything)

"My name is Lysan Hav'a'riel, Auroa. However, I believe our Hostess' son wishes us to follow him, at the moment. I am sure we will have plenty of time to get acquainted once we are settled in." With a smile, he gestures the two women ahead of him up the stairs. "After you, Good Ladies."

Lysan realizes after seeing the two women a couple of steps ahead of him on the stairs, just how tall he must seem to these other elves, and wonders how that will affect his relations with them. "I will just have to wait and see", he thinks to himself.

[Ilyrana Sevayni]

Ilyrana listened to the female drow speak, head bowed slightly in respect. So far, everything was going as expected. She took the time to take a second look around as she listened too, noting all were doing the same, more or less. Fair enough too, as she knew herself and the other elves gathered were among the rarer sorts. Seldom interacting with one another made sightings and dealings all the more curious. Still, being stared at gave the young wild elf a feeling of being on display in a cage, and she didn't much care for it.

She shook the feeling best she could as Amalie responded to the drow's speech. She nodded slightly to her elder, the druid had spoken truth. No frills, that was their way. As the others went on to do the same she did note the differences. Politics were diverse, and more subtle than seemed necessary. Ilyrana inwardly shrugged the thoughts off and when the elder of her tribe touched her arm, she looked up at her and gave a fleeting smile and a nod of understanding. They had to part ways sometime, but each knew the other was capable. Amalie would know Ilyrana would hope for the same when next they met. "You as well." Her tone was warm, though the words curt.

As she moved to follow the others at the direction of the drow house's second, she caught sight of the large hound studying something high in the branches of the closest tree. It was blue and green mottled to nearly match the leaves, slightly larger than a housecat in size, though clearly reptilian in nature.

With a narrowing of her eyes, and a moment of concentration, she started to reach out with her thoughts. The other female broke it, the one adorned in silver moved towards her and the other and addressed them. Ilyrana arched a brow, not showing annoyance but looking a bit taken aback at the suddeness. Lysan, as it appeared the winged one called himself, answered well enough. It was her understanding they'd get settled before introductions, but eagerness wasn't a terrible thing. She bowed her head slightly to the female, but offered no name of her own yet. Timing was poor and it was best to keep proper and do as instructed for now, though Ilyrana disliked the formalities. "Agreed. Upstairs then."

Lysan's address of them as 'ladies' she eyed him. Chivalry.......interesting. Though part of it might have been so one of them didn't end up knocked over on their backside if they got too close to his wings. They and he were of impressive size for certain. With a small tilt of her head at him to acknowledge the kindness, she turned to head up the stairs, but not before sending the telepathic message previously deterred.

You may come with me if you desire, or stay and stand sentinel, my friend. Either is helpful.

[Warlord]

The guards stand by idly as the small group jockeys about before following. The large hound doesn't move an inch, looking at the group as they move about and make noise. He occasionally tilts his head and looks up at the lizard thing as well.

For his part, Nikxor looks bored. The Pseudodragon sits on high watching the whole situation quietly and ignoring the canine with the too intelligent look in its eyes. After a few long moments it makes an effort to make sure his companion was aware of his scoff. I will be going with you. I smell food, and besides that there are so many of the dark ones in the forest around this place that if they want the lot of you dead I will be the only one with a reasonable chance of getting out with my lustrous skin. He stands, taking a hopping step before spreading his wings and soaring lightly through the air. He circles the massive tree once before angling up and landing on Ilyrana's shoulder lightly. He curls his tail around her neck for balance and perches as proudly as a emperor upon a padan chair.

[Auroa]

Auroa looks up from the bow at the back of the drow they were suppose to be following and simply says "oh dear i am sorry" and
with that Auroa stride/floats quickly to catch up to the drow hoping to not lose him in the vast building.