>>5375402>>5375459>>5375476>>5375486>>5375661>>5375730>>5376072Sidling over to the mural depicting Eilistraee mid-dance, you timidly look it up and down. One should always make a show of gratitude to a deity as thanks for their favor, whether out of fear or pragmatism, though you find yourself at a loss. Every god is an individual who has their wants, their preferences, but you know little of the Dark Maiden, and less of her doctrines. You have neither been killed where you stand nor cursed nor admonished - that is sufficient evidence of the goddess' approval, or perchance her willingness to overlook any transgressions you may have committed.
The ordeal of locating the faithful of Eilistraee, those among your people who have broken away from the Spider Queen to pursue lives here on the surface, leads you on a solitary journey through the Silvewood. Over the hills and within the valley, in the clearings and in the thickets, you hunt for any trace of their presence that could lead you to them. Once every so often you uncover traces of the war between the Ilythiiri and the Malarites. Bones and equipment jutting from the ground tell recognizable tales of skirmishes wherein belligerents neither gave nor expected any quarter. The People of the Black Blood paid with their lives for every step of forest that they conquered, winning out by sheer numbers and dogged tenacity.
Stripping down decayed skeletons and picking through old battlefields is a chore. Ultimately, your recompense for toiling away valuable hours by digging your hands into the cold earth is nothing. There is no trace, no hint as to where those who escaped the Beastlord's barbarity have fled. Drawing a weary sigh, the revelation that your search is in vain weighs heavily on you. For lack of better ideas, your gaze wanders toward the heavens.
The pale light of the silver moon burns its image into your retinas, awakening some long-dormant race knowledge in your id. In a bygone era, your ancestors dwelt in the moonlit gloam of a greenwood comparable to this one. After more than ten millennia of exile, you have at long last returned home.
