The Gates of ELDANDIL, HARMONY
Greetings! You hear them say.
Two hunters guard the mystic entrance to Eldandil, Harmony. They bow to you, Hunter as you pass through the gleaming barrier that protects the path to the tree Great Mother, the Elder guardian of the Cimmerian Elves.
You step into the fertile lands of The Gardeners, bending, busy tending the immeasurable foliage of green stalks, blooming reds and yellow flowering pods. The air is sweet with fragrance of abundance. The Gardeners take notice of your arrival—
Vedui’, Quel fara!
“Greetings, good hunting!” You hear them say.
Vedui’ il’er! Amin weera, Quel fara.
“Greetings everyone! I agree, good hunting.”
But all is not Quel. There is a radiating disturbance. As a Hunter, you sense it. Just when you begin to doubt your underlying animus, a harbinger, a Weaver is there to greet you at the confine of the path. The Weavers were on notice. They sensed a disturbance in the realm the moment you succeeded the barrier. A Widow joins the Weaver at the confine—they too, sense the waning in the roots of the trees, in the silent terror tremors of wildlife and within the filtering leaves of every tree in Eldandil.
You tense as the governing Lore Keeper telepathically summons you.
Gi suilon, Hunter.
“I greet you, Hunter.”
Mae g’ovannen, Val’istar.
“Well met, Master Lore Keeper.”
With that, you begin to feel an unfamiliar energy pulsate within you. The Lore Master shows you a threatening, dark mist approaching the borders of Harmony. Your body begins to ache—coming to life with new energy without your consent. Your body is preparing you for battle with an enemy, not of your world. You feel a new aura surge within every inch of your torso and deep within the areas of your haunted conscience.
Parts of you resist the part of you that is new. However, you are drawn to it eagerly.
Like a moth to a burning flame.
*Note – my elvish may not be ‘on point,’ I am using a guide to help me go along with the current dialogue.