[flashback]<span style="color: red"><span style="text-decoration: underline">	&lt;&lt;The town of Talloak, one week ago&gt;&gt; </span></span><br/><br/>In the Solar Temple of Saint Ratoste, high in the branches of the majestic Talloak on a platform shaped by elven magic from the living wood, the noon-time prayer service has just concluded. As the participants gather their coats and exit, Lyra Ilswick, high priestess of the temple, stands by the door and bids farewell to each.<br/><br/>When the last parishioner has departed and the room is quiet, Lyra sighs heavily and lets her face relax after an hour of forcing herself to look upbeat. She is doing all that she can to keep her flock's spirits up, but with the ominous gloom of the Endless Winter weighing down on them it is a difficult task. It is only mid-afternoon, and she is already exhausted.<br/><br/>She tells her servants to start arranging the furniture for the next event scheduled for this multi-purpose space: a meeting of the town council. She then goes to her private chamber to change out of her holy garments. When she returns, she notices an unfamiliar pair of grey eyes staring at her from the back of the room. They belong to a very comely young human with blond hair who is wearing a garment of black leather fit like a second skin.<span style="font-style: italic">She looks new</span>, Lyra thinks,<span style="font-style: italic">has she just arrived in town?</span>. The two meet each other's gaze, and the blond rises from her seat. 	"Hello, Lyra Ilswick." she says as she walks up the aisle.<br/><br/>"Hello...You know my name?" says Lyra with a laugh.<br/><br/>"Yes, I know many things about you."<br/><br/>Lyra finds this response odd, but laughs it off and remains polite, forcing herself to smile once more. "Well, my sister, I don't think we've ever been introduced. What is your name?"<br/><br/>"Ashala." replies the girl, unsmiling. Her gaze is intense and relentless, like a falcon's stare. "I have come to deliver a message."<br/><br/>"Yes?"<br/><br/>"I will wait until the others arrive. It is for all of you." She sits again, this time at the table which has been moved to the center of the room.<br/><br/>"The others?" Lyra is serious now. The other oligarchs of Talloak would be arriving soon for the council meeting. "You have a matter to bring to the council's attention?"<br/><br/>"Yes." replies Ashala. Lyra prods her with questions about the message, but the girl refuses to say anything further without the others present.<br/><br/><br/><br/>Chicoa is the first to arrive. The spirited little tree rodent bounces into the temple, shivering. "<span style="font-style: italic">gods its cold out there!</span>" he says and moves quickly over to warm himself by the coals of one of the temple's braziers. Immediately he starts off chattering in his usual acerbic style, listing complaints about delinquents, cheats and theives in the town, and how they all ought to be tarred and feathered. He doesn't notice Ashala until Lyra introduces her.<br/>"Oh, hello." He says awkwardly when she does.<br/><br/>"Hello, Chicoa Longtail." says Ashala dryly.<br/><br/>"...have we met?”<br/><br/><br/><br/>The dwarf champion Tigon Bloodhammer arrives next, huffing from the nine story climb to reach the platform of the solar temple. Moments later, the gold dragongirl Puime enters followed by her cohort Aevin Aldeseld, an elven nature cleric. Despite the official purpose of the meeting, the atmosphere in the hall is informal and familiar. As usual, the five friends greet each other warmly and take time to share news and gossip before getting to any actual business. During this exchange, the sixth and oldest oligarch of Talloak, Finwë Aldeseld, enters by staircase from a lower room and silently takes a seat at the table with his staff in his lap. Servants arrive with cups for the table and pour out tea for the council.<br/><br/><br/>"Oh, yes, our first order of business--" says Lyra, remembering the messenger. She formally begins the meeting by sitting at the table with Ashala and Finwë and signaling for the others to do the same. "--This is Ashala, and she's here with a message for us." The others look curiously at the newcomer.<br/><br/>"Thank you, Lyra.” says Ashala with a nod. She clears her throat, then speaks with a clear, toneless voice “Members of the Talloak council, I am here on behalf of my clients, in pursuance of the proper fulfillment of the terms of Jejunian suzerainty law, to inform you of the responsibilities you have toward your patrons, the lords of Armel.”<br/><br/>"What?" says Chicoa.<br/><br/>"Lords of Armel?...you mean the Pyyrn..." growls Puime. With her spirit eye, she observes that Ashala's aura is a blot of festering darkness instead of the faint colored glow of a normal human aura.<br/>"You are an agent of the Wyrm's shadow court." The paladin's words, and the realization that follows them, sends a chill through the spines of all present; hands quickly find their way to weapon hilts as the council members exchange looks of alarm.<br/><br/>Ashala continues calmly. “Yes, that is correct. I am here on behalf of the Pyyrn clan, your patrons, to collect the due tribute of 6,000 dalat.”<br/><br/>"<span style="font-style: italic">Tribute</span>!?" shouts Chicoa, "What kind of scam is this!? Who do you think we are?"<br/><br/>"All of our trade turns a profit." says Tigon gruffly. He has risen from his chair and now holds his steel urgosh in one hand.  "We don't owe a copper to no one."<br/><br/>"Not money. Dalat." says Finwë softly. When others look nonplussed, the venerable elf explains: "She said dalat. It is an alchemical unit, used for measuring the energy of a thing, like the burning energy of wood, or the nutritive value of food. An adult human needs to consume about one dalat per day to stay nourished."<br/><br/>"Correct." says Ashala. "My clients have no interest in precious metals; what they require is nourishment. Times are tough, you know...not all of the cities are as well-provisioned as Talloak. There are a lot of hungry mouths up north."<br/><br/>Finwë does some quick arithmetic in his head. "But, six thousand? We don't have anywhere near that kind of surplus.”<br/><br/>Lyra shakes her head. "Talloak's stocks are not as large as you've heard, stranger. If your people are starving, we could perhaps give you one or two barrels, but certainly no more."<br/><br/>"If they are suffering, it is their own fault." objects Aevin. "They should not have turned against the Pact!"<br/><br/>"Yeah!" says Chicoa, indignant at the idea of parting with any of his nuts. "Why should we give them<span style="font-style: italic">anything!?</span>Even if they had a right to it--<span style="font-style: italic">which they don't, the bastards</span>--those stocks are all we have! Our own citizens come first."<br/><br/>Ashala stares lamely at the agitated, tail-flicking squirrel. "Hmm. Well. How about meat, instead? Do you have any livestock you could spare? Old or sickly ones?"<br/><br/>"You will take neither our grain nor our animals today." says Puime firmly, quickly losing her patience with this messenger's demanding attitude.<br/><br/>"No?" says Ashala, ignoring Puime. "What about prisoners? Recently deceased? ...Undesirables who wouldn't be missed?" Her grey eyes coyly examine those present, then fixate on Roland, a small, grubby looking half-elf who is eavesdropping on the meeting from the other end of the hall. "That one looks fit," she points him out. "--if a little thin. He's probably good for seventy, maybe eighty dalat."<br/><br/>"wh--what?" stutters Lyra in disbelief. Roland is an errand-boy for the temple, a skittish youth of few words; when the attention of the entire room fall on him unexpectedly he goes rigid with fright.<br/><br/>"You could offer up a few like him, and the Pyyrn would let you keep your acorns. And you would have fewer mouths to feed."<br/><br/>"Outrageous..." Aevin bristles with horror and anger at what the fiendish girl has just suggested.<br/><br/>The paladin rises to her full height and tenses her muscles. "You deliberately provoke us, or else you are sorely ignorant of our ways. Talloak is a Pact city. All are born free here, and that freedom is sacred." In addition to her can-opener claws and razor-sharp fangs, she carries her six foot zweihander sword strapped to the back of her mythril breastplate. With this array of weapons both natural and forged she is truly imposing vision for any foe to stand against. Ashala's face registers its first emotion since her arrival: momentary fear.<br/>"Yeah, we<span style="font-style: italic">really</span>don't take kindly to slavers here." says Chicoa, making a slitting motion against his neck with one finger.<br/><br/>"Hey, calm down..." Ashala gestures defensively with her palm, "I'm just trying to help. You don't want to pay with grain, so instead you can pay with meat." She holds her hands like a balance-scale swaying back and forth. "But one way or another, the tribute is six-thousand dalat."<br/>"We are glad to assist our neighbors in thier times of need." says Lyra. "But we do so on our own terms."<br/>"We do not respond to demands, certainly not from the likes of you." adds Aevin.<br/><br/>"Look, I didn't come up with the suzerainty system," sighs Ashala, "I'm just the clerk and the messenger. Talloak lies within the boundaries of the Armel domain, so the Pyyrn are your lords and you pay tribute to them, that's just how it works. It's really quite fair and generous. You give them tributes, in exchange they protect you from other threats."<br/><br/>"We're not paying no bleedin' tribute." says Tigon bluntly, lifting his weapon into both hands. "So you can take your system and stuff it right back up your arse where you found it."<br/><br/>"You're making a mistake."<br/><br/>Puime steps closer, forcing Ashala's back against the wall. "You've heard our decision, and its final. We won't be changing our mind. The only question now is, what are we going to do with you?" She runs her tongue over her impressive fangs which are fortified with nutrion absorbed from vanquished Pact enemies. "I wonder how many dalat<span style="font-style: italic">you've</span>got..."<br/><br/>"The Pyyrn made this same offer to Samberdam, you know." says Ashala, her voice growing stronger and more malevolent. "They didn't want to pay tribute either. Have you been to Samberdam lately?”<br/>"It's gone." She cracks a wide, sadistic grin. "Picked clean. It's a pile of sticks now. Every house wrecked, every living thing devoured or collared, every--"<br/><br/>"Enough!!" cries Puime and, with claws as fast as striking snakes, she slams Ashala against the walll and pins her there. Before she can utter another syllable, the dragongirl chomps down on her head and takes her in past her shoulders in a single gulp. The others watch with a mixture of awe and vicarious triumph as their friend makes a meal out this unwelcome messenger. A second swallow takes the girl down to her narrow waist. She squirms and kicks, but her arms are pinned by the claws; she can do nothing but wiggle ineffectually as her leather-clad body is dragged by peristaltic waves into the hot, slick darkness of the dragongirl's gullet. Puime roughly lifts her prey into the air and, widening her jaws to accommodate her sizable rump, she tilts her head back and lets gravity finish the job.<br/>But just as Ashala's knees are sliding over the tongue and her fate seems sealed, everything is suddenly interrupted by a flash of red light, bright as a flash-bulb, and with a loud<span style="font-style: italic">CRACK</span>the fiend vanishes from sight leaving only a small mushroom cloud of sulphuric smoke billowing from Puime's jaws.<br/><br/>A few tense seconds pass in the hall as those present try to figure out what has happened.<br/>"Is she gone?" asks Tigon, urgosh held at ready against an unseen ambush.<br/>Finwë murmurs a divination under his breath and then turns his head to examine every corner of the hall. "Yes." He concludes. "She appears to have fled via the Astral plane."<br/>Everyone starts talking at once. "That scheming, honorless wretch!--" "--should follow her and strike them at their base!" "--that they would have the nerve--" "--to offer them sacrifices? Blasphemy!" "--planning on fleeing all along--" "--is extortion, they can't just threaten us like that--" "--reinforcements from Boryg, as soon as possible--" "--like Samberdam? Could they?--"<br/><br/>"Alright!" says Chicoa loudly, trying to bring order to the meeting, but the squirrel's chirp is lost in the noise.<br/>"<span style="font-weight: bold">Alright!!</span>" bellows Puime, silencing her peers.<br/>Chicoa nods in thanks, then speaks. "We need to get the word out: this city has to be seige-ready by nightfall. That means tripling border patrols, putting a squadron of pikemen and archers at each entrance, and calling all of our reserve units to arms." The others express their agreement.<br/>"I will activate the perimeter defense runes," says Finwë. "And contact our associates in Boryg at once, to have them send their cavalry to assist us."<br/>"Uncle," says Aevin to the mage "Don't you know anchoring spells for preventing Astral travel? You should prepare them."<br/>"Agreed." says Puime, who can still taste the fiend on her tongue. "We are at a large disadvantage when they can pop in and out wherever they like."<br/><br/>"What do you think the Pyyrn will make of our reply?" says Tigon darkly. It is a rhetorical question; everyone is aware of the violence the Pyyrn are capable of. Ashala's final reference to Samberdam dispelled any doubt.<br/>"We're a free, sovereign city." says Puime. "We don't pay 'tribute' to anyone, especially not slavers. And we're not going to be 'sacked'. Talloak has been attacked in the past, but we always prevail." This last bit elicits a simultaneous rallying cheer from all present: "((Celestial)Justice shall prevail!)"<br/><br/>For another twenty minutes the council of Talloak discuss and draw up the details of their defense strategy. Then they divide up and spread across the city to send orders down the chains of command. Only Puime lingers behind after the meeting. She stares out of one of the temple's huge windows at the wasteland vista, her long tail swishing restlessly on the floor.<br/>After talking with the temple's staff and sending them to prepare holy water and healing supplies, Lyra returns to the atrium and notices Puime still standing there. The cleric sees the troubled look on her friend's brow and senses her anxiety. She crosses the tiled floor and lays a comforting hand on the paladin's shoulder. "You are troubled?"<br/>"I wonder if we did the right thing, Lyra." says Puime. "These Pyyrn...they can make good on their threats. They don't even care about catching us by surprise. Armel and Samberdam had strong garrisons and favorable terrain, and they still fell. Armel was even protected by Khorjael himself! Have we doomed our city? They gave us a chance to survive..."<br/>"Don't let that devil's words get under your skin. We didn't have a choice at all. Selling fellow citizens into slavery to save the rest of the town? No one with even half of a soul would do such a vile thing. We acted rightly in the eyes of heaven."<br/>"Yes, we did." Puime bows her head. "But the path before us is very dark. Many in the town, they tell me that they fear the spring will never come--that this is the end of the world. I tell them to have faith, but I fear their hope is fading...as is, I fear, my own."<br/>"Oh, Puime..." says Lyra empathetically. "You must not lose hope. We will make it through this, somehow. We will see this grove blossom again. The valley has been blighted with a great evil, but the heavens still watch over it."<br/>"Yes. That is true. But the hells are watching it as well...and drooling."<br/><br/>[/flashback]<br/><br/><br/><br/><br/>Rihyan did not spot any signs of movement on the highway.<br/><br/><br/><br/><br/>Nocke watches the centaur return and listens to his description of the path. At the mention of his size, he shakes his needly head. "I...am ...not...very...stealthy." He looks to Chrrou and Sen. "You...said... your...magic... could ...change...my ...form? A...bird, then. Change...me...into ...a...bird."<br/><br/>He smiles at this idea. "I... have...always ...wondered ...about...the ...feathered...life. And...I ...will...be...much ...easier...to...hide."