<strong>Eshalu - songs of another time</strong><br/><br/>Eshalu concentrated on the fluctuating images of the girl's visage and the foreign, yet strangely intelligible, voice she heard either in her ears or in her mind. For an instant, the scar on the girl's cheek flashed before her and Eshalu thought that the spirit (which she understood the presence to be) had maybe once been a warrior, or lived in a time of great strife. The mixture of nostalgia and bitterness she perceived was strange to her mind, but not unexpected. The druids of her clan had long told stories of forlorn spirits who had been flesh and blood from the days before the Great Starfall and who continued to wander the wilds in search of that which had been lost.<em>Loss</em>- that concept resonated with Eshalu. She felt and understood the presence's sense of loss. An object - and that was natural enough. Humans had, in the ranger's experience, an unquenchable attraction to metal shaped in various forms. But this did not seem to be a magpie instinct. The object had significance. Real value beyond the circular trade of metal for more metal.<br/><br/>When the presence spoke to Eshalu, she used a term to address the ranger that could not quite pass the language barrier between them. Eshalu guessed the girl was using a term of affection, or an honorific - which made sense, given the human obsession with dominance and status. "I -" Eshalu paused, sensing that using her native speech was less of an hindrance to communication than the vast gulf in lore, culture and nuance between them - those were differences not even a melding of minds could bridge, "Eshalu is the name my clan has given me and the name I bear. Among the People, I am a ranger and warder and the Great Mother has willed me to take up the Way so that others should not have to bear the burden," she was now speaking like she would when introducing herself to a fellow wood elf, hoping that at least some of what she said would resonate, "I feel you, too, were born for strife. This is the place of your belonging and I am grateful that you have shown yourself to me. I know nothing of your lore, so I beg that you tell me of it. Perhaps you have never heard of my People - I, certainly, have never spoken to yours."<br/><br/>Eshalu peered into the water, seeking any kind of visual or physical contact with the presence that so far had spoken only directly to her mind. Could she even take physical form, or was she bound to the Twilight Grove, or the world of spirits?<br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide</div><div class="spoiler_body">Roll Result: Eshalu rolled: 4d3, adding -6to the total<br/>Comment: Empathy check<br/>Result: 2, 1, 3, 2,<br/>Total: <strong>2</strong>, a <strong>Fair</strong> success</div></div><br/>Tentatively, Eshalu dipped her feet back into the water, and immersed herself, kneeling, into the current. She contemplated her own reflection in the flow of the water, watching the fleeting images from another age and another world fly by her. Most were too slippery, like oil on an eel, even to grasp for a moment, but some stuck to her. Words. Thoughts. Emotions. The girl<em>wanted</em>to speak to her and the first barriers to two worlds separated in time and space had begun to bend. Ignoring the agonising twang in her injured calf, Eshalu leaned lower, until her lips and nose were close enough to the current to feel the cool, moist spray on her skin. There she waited - hoping for an answer.