"Thank you!" the elves hopped up from the bed and, almost in perfect unison, leaned in to kiss the opposing cheeks of the shifter. One chimed, "You ought be well received by her kin..."<br/><br/>The other picked up, "...and we can guarantee you shall continue to be by ourselves!"<br/><br/>Once the rest of the manor was quite thoroughly looted, and the elven lasses were dressed in nearly translucent shimmerweave gowns, one of peach and the other of a soft lime green, they accompanied the two lady adventurers out of the manor, holding hands. They indicated the trail which ended in a loop before the front doors of the mansion; this led along mile and mile again of forest which grew never less verdant or emerald-hued, although the undergrowth did grow less thick as the elevation climbed gradually and the crescent-shaped lake was ever further behind them (but now and again visible at hillcrests).<br/><br/>After a distance of two hours at a pace abetted by Rose's dimension-hops, there came a crossroads at a small clearing. Upon a tree stump sat a goat-horned and -legged satyr, as Rose would well recognize from her nature-lore along with two nymphs who lounged languidly in the grass beneath him and clung lazily at either leg.<br/><br/>The satyr, bare chest strapped with bandoliers to afix the bow and quiver sticking over his bulging shoulders, was in the midst of bragging in colorfully idiomatic Sylvan about a sexual conquest of some other female entirely, but seemed eager to break off as his dark, coal-hot eyes marked Ana and Asha. He spoke some traditional Elven greeting, then seemed to change his mind after taking eyefuls of their rescuers and switched to Common. "Hail, friends. You wouldn't perchance raise this poor player's poor luck by having seen hereabouts a stag with pelt golder than gold?"