#some lore

Yay some angst

Its his wake up call

It was known as the Eldartree—a relic of a bygone age, its designs a heavily guarded secret in Evermeet. It had been given to Halsin by the returning elves in recognition of his deeds. Where once the chambers had stood in absence and silence, there was now light and life: pottery, thriving plants, a library lined with books, an impressive collection of scrolls and maps, an alchemist’s tower, and a center for genealogy and research. A conservatory dining area adjoined the kitchen, with several common rooms beyond. Elves had little need for sleep as humans did, after all.

And its crowning feature: an observation deck for charting celestial bodies, along with the Grand Druid’s private quarters, set apart from the rest.

The treehouse served as Halsin’s office and home away from home whenever he wasn’t tending to matters in Reithwin proper.

Its architecture was defined by three concentric rings and floors—the largest at the base—each comprising a wing with tall windows and slanted roofs that opened toward the four cardinal directions. At its heart lay a hollowed-out core, providing passage between the levels. Everything, from the spiraling steps to the beams themselves, was carved with intricate wooden designs, inspired by flora and fauna.

A rune stone for fast travel stood nearby, marking the spot where she usually began her trek back toward town.

It was easy to remember the place, because this tree alone connected to the thermal pools—the communal baths hidden within the mountainside cave. A broad walkway extended from the outer deck to the secluded sections reserved for the Great Druid, granting access to the inner sanctum of the grotto falls. From there, one could look out over the forest.

Tempest had heard—though never witnessed herself—that Halsin sometimes performed healing there, drawing upon the earth and the restorative springs.

His home also served as a nexus: suspension bridges radiated from it like spokes of a great wheel, linking to other treehouses. It was rare to see an elf walking on the ground at all—part of why travelers could stumble straight into an elven settlement without realizing they had crossed any threshold.

Tilting her head back as far as she could, standing beneath the vast canopy, Tempest felt the power rising from the roots that stretched deep, often for miles underground. It left her lightheaded with its potency. She placed her hand against the trunk, cold and grounding beneath her palm, the bark hardened by millennia.

She stood near the general area where an owlbear named Berior often nested, the roots forming a hollow. The watchful guardian had grown into his own and was the only owlbear residing within an elven village for many miles. Though she could hardly tell he was there, for the sleeping giant lay hidden beneath a pile of fallen leaves, Tempest leaned over and gently brushed them away, careful not to startle the wild animal.