Marryk

----> The group stares at the monolithic temple.

----> "Well," Meggana looks at the others, "it appears we've made it." She breaks off her gaze and looks intently around, trying to see if there are any traps. "Maybe we should do some scouting before we go in. And remember, don't hurt the monkeys."
----> Cyrdan, looking up from where he has thoroughly inspected the wooden statue, nods his agreement. "Let's watch ourselves," he instructs. Looking directly at Tharg, he adds, "Especially where we tread. I don't want to have to run after anybody again."
----> Both barbarians smile sheepishly.
----> Tilwic smirks at Cyrdan's allusion to Tharg's mishap. "Don't blame the barbarian for your situation, friend elf," he calmly states. "Never allow the ignorance of few taint the reason of many."
----> Alasdair looks at the others and shrugs. "Well, we came here to get the highdrunker-supervirus-flower-thingy from the temple." He smiles at Tilwic, taking out a dagger, "Go on; we're right behind you."

----> As they begin to descend the slight incline of the valley’s slope, they are stopped by a vocal hailing from the trail behind them. Everyone hears it, reacting by readying weapons.
----> A figure appears from out of the bush about forty paces away. He is dressed in a style that could be called "tribal," with various bone decorations and green and black war-paint covering his body. His ears are pointed and his physique is slim, making him obviously elven, though his features seem almost too soft to be fae. His long hair, an odd burgundy color, rests over a bare chest and shoulders. An intricate design of leaves and vines has been tattooed up his left arm, from wrist to shoulder. Another marking on his chest, one of a jungle cat, is partially hidden in the gray and black smudges of days old cammy-paint. He has a spear in one hand and a satchel tied about his waist. He stands there as the group regards him, and then he speaks.
----> "Y’Umbraii," he calls out, "I have been stranded here for many days." His execution of the common tongue is similar to Tilwic's, but much more fluid and natural-sounding. He seems to wait for a reaction, though he looks only into the Blackrobe's face. He receives no response. The group holds their readiness, also awaiting a reaction from Tilwic. This is his part of the quest. "Are you the ones to rescue me?"
----> There can be no doubt this is one of the surviving marryk.
----> Tilwic makes no motion, but he answers the elven marryk in his native tongue. "Tu docana edona reqysti." Tilwic turns his head toward the rest of the group before continuing. "I have been sent by Hai-Shalyk Quigh to bring you in for debriefing. He has granted me Tal' Yquai."
----> The warrior nods his head. He approaches the group slowly, keeping an eye on the other members of the group as he goes. As he nears, the elf's face draws stares from the group. More specifically, his eyes steal all attention. They are silver. Not the dull gray of a pair of faded blue oculars, but the dazzling, metallic shine of highly-polished chrome.
----> Tilwic and the elf exchange a few moments of the strange native language. The marryk points back toward the beach a few times and then makes large circles with his arms. The language makes no sense whatsoever to the rest of the group. At one point Tilwic looks up into the trees, making the group mimic him out of curiosity. The silver-eyed elf emits a loud bird-like whistle. In response, another elf, dressed similar to the silver-eye, fast-ropes his way from the green of the treetops into the center of an awe-struck group.
----> This elf, slimmer than the silver-eyed marryk, wears a thin chainmail vest over jungle colored clothing. His hair is blondish, though red tint is evident as sunlight passes over his head. Bright green eyes regard the party, though his focus, too, is on the Blackrobe. A capped quiver hangs across his back and he carries a crude bow. His face is also painted up in faded green and black swipes.
----> Tilwic introduces them as Aegeon and Yohon.
----> "Portu trada conda kallil en huuka?" the fast-roper asks of Tilwic.
----> The dark-haired Tilwic hands the tribal elf a sack of rations from inside his robe. "It was the will of the Jalbeorne." When he says Uther's last name, it sounds like "jail-born."
----> Both elves nod and feel relaxed at the Blackrobe's response, eating from the sack of dried food goods.
----> "And as I have been granted Tal' Yquai," Tilwic continues, digging through his robe, "I am to have you by my side until I am off this island."
----> The newer arrived marryk seems slightly taken aback, but holds his composure as Taer Tilwic produces a small talisman from his robe and shows it to him. The elves look at one another and then back to Tilwic. "Yes, we will accompany you," the silver-eyed Yohon answers.
----> "We will find much use in your familiarity of the temple as well as its inhabitants."
----> "Yes," Cyrdan agrees, "and we can start with 'How do we get in?'"
----> "Actually," a hot-headed Grant interjects, "we can start with 'What the hell is Tal' Yquai?' Then we can move on to 'What the hell happened to the rest of your team?' After that, how about a little 'Who the hell is Hi-Sha-Lick Kwig?' and then maybe, just maybe, we can move on to 'How do we get in?'!"
----> The group stands silent as the outburst catches them by surprise.
----> "I don't align myself with no deserters," the angry dwarf goes on. "I wanna know where the rest of your team is." He has jumped in the faces of the marryk.
----> The tribal elves seem to get flustered at first, but stand firm enough to glare back at Grant's pissed-off expression. "The team is dead!" Aegeon spits, enraged at the callousness of the dwarf's demanding tone. "They are all dead except for Yohon and I. There were no deserters because there was no one left to desert!"
----> Cyrdan quickly intervenes, calming an otherwise escalating situation. "That's all done with now. We have a new situation at hand and knowing just how six out of an eight-man military recon team were killed may save the rest of us." Aegeon and Grant separate themselves and Cyrdan continues. "Grant's right. We need to know what you are talking about, Taer Tilwic."
----> The black-robed elf peers hard at Cyrdan and casts a sideways glance at Grant as well. Seeing they would not let him off without explanation, he addresses the entire group. "Hai-Shalyk is a marryk title for Shaman. Not just any shaman, however. He is the equivalent of High Priest in human society. It is a very prestigious and respected position in the marryk hierarchy." He looks about at the faces surrounding him. Only Tharg and Conner seem completely disinterested. Everyone else is genuinely involved in his words. "Quigh is their particular tribe's Hai-Shalyk. He sent me to retrieve his men."
----> "By yourself?" Alasdair asks, wondering if in fact this Taer Tilwic was more powerful than he had even first imagined.
----> "No," Tilwic allays. "He gave me Tal' Yquai."
----> "And just exactly what is tal-ee-kway?" Meggana wonders aloud.
----> "Tal' Yquai is given only to distinguished persons who are worthy of carrying the responsibility of the Word of Hai-Shalyk."
----> "So you speak for this Quigh fellow," Alasdair reasons.
----> "Yes," Tilwic replies. "Hai-Shalyk Quigh has given me Tal' Yquai which, in effect, makes my voice the voice of god."
----> Heavy.
----> "And that's why these poor soldiers have to accompany us back into the ruins where they already lost six of their squad-mates?" Grant again is outraged. "What about battleshock? These boys haven't had proper time to recover! They need proper food, rest, and medical attention!" Grant seems to be flashing back to another time. He staggers back a step as he hollers, "MEDIC!"
----> The yell catches the team off guard, a few of them jump at the sudden outburst.
----> Grant seems to catch himself and digresses. "You can't force them to go back in, Tilly!"
----> Tilly?
----> "I can and I most certainly will," he replies. "Their experiences inside the temple are priceless. These two men have survived an encounter that took the lives of six other highly trained soldiers. If they are not suitable to enter the temple, than who is? You, friend dwarf? Me? Our chances of survival are naught without them." Tilwic seems to hold a high regard for these two militaristic elves, especially for their training. "Besides, they cannot ignore the order of Tal' Yquai."
----> "Tally-kway, my ass," Grant mumbles as he backs down from the confrontation. Hell, the elves don't seem to mind so much anyway. Just when it seemed to be over, Grant jumps back into place before Tilwic's smiling face. "Why the hell are you going in anyway?"
----> The group doesn't quite follow his reasoning, so he elaborates.
----> "He came here to pick up any survivors and here they are," he explains. "Why aren't you just packing them up and going back to mainland?"
----> Tilwic is by no means caught off guard by this. "My good dwarf," he says, smiling wide, "I have more important business here on Baragona than rescuing a few marryk."

Tilwic's Intent