Scene #1290: Foxing the Elvenking

Owner	Pose
Finna	There's a fox in the woods! A fox that might or might not be found in Middle Earth. If it does, only in the coldest of regions. The Greenwood may not be the most favored travel destination of a snowy fox, a creature covered in fluffy white fur that keeps it warm even in the coldest nights. The creature's been behaving most curiously. Unworried about the elves fishing and being otherwise industrious through the river, the white fixen just trots on along at a scampery pace. Only periodically does she try to give one of the Elvenfolk a playful startle... and she only swipes one fish when nobody's looking for a quick meal if nobody offers one. The fox is headed right for the halls of the Elvenking almost as if these lands were open to her as a matter of course. She's making no attempts to be stealthy or sneaky overall... This may leave lots of heads scratchy, guards unsure what to do, and other things! But then, that's what makes these kinds of outings FUN.
Thranduil	There are tons of foxes of every kind in Middle Earth, including the snowy fox. The presence of a fox isn't that eye catching to the Silvan Elves that are out fishing and hunting (and goofing off in the sunlight). What catches their eye is that it seems to have a purpose. Some of the scouts watch curiously, some even laughing when the fox steals a fish. They lean on their poles and others lean against trees, watching curiously. It isn't often they see a fox just roam through a crowded area even if the Silvan Elves are friends with wildlife. They chatter amongst themselves in Elvish, not stopping the vixen as she makes her way toward the halls. A group of soldiers are returning from patrol, so the guards open the doors leading into the kingdom.
Finna	Inwards the vixen trots when soldiers go in. Perhaps the guards notice, perhaps not, but the fox quickly slips out of sight into the halls while gulping down the tiny fish. Through the halls she wanders, hunting for the King!
Thranduil	Thranduil sits upon his throne, staring out into the distance. His guards stand vigilant, only moving when they see the fox wandering the paths that wind around the kingdom. "My Lord, it appears that a woodland creature has entered the halls." Thranduil's ice blue eyes focus once again, his head tilting to the side slightly. "Allow it to pass. Unless it causes a disturbance, it will wander out on its own."
Finna	It just so happens that these moments are the ones in which the guard reporting to Thranduil sprouts a headfox. Or, rather, the woodland creature that's been spotted in the halls has found where they're supposed to be. 'My Lord' is a lovely phrase to home in on! And so, the Snow Fox sprang up onto the guard's head - or shoulders, if the head's too uncomfortable with armor or the like. The creature's tail is wagging happily and she glances all about, down to the guard and then over at the Elvenking. Then she straightens out and crooons out a long trilly greeting. Unless it causes a disturbance. Riiiiiiiigght.
Thranduil	Thranduil rises to his feet when the fox jumps onto a guard and makes a sound. He watches carefully. "Remove yourself from the guard immediately." He barks "Who are you and what do you want? You are no mere fox..identify yourself a once.!
Finna	The sudden hostility gets the fox cowering back slightly and hopping free of the guard. Moments later she shakes herself off - as a resultant all that white fur fluffs out pretty big. "All the people are warm, friendly, and industrious out there in the cold. Enter the warm halls and receptions get so much colder. Alright, alright!" The fox SPEAKS. In a female voice, no less. Oh, she's quite understandable thanks to the translation effect but she's not speaking any tongue spoken on Middle Earth. Then her body ripples, stretches and rises. In a matter of seconds the fur's receded in favor of long white hair! Finna emerges from all that fur, clad in leathery tribal hunter's attire fit for a harsh winter. But there's mischief in her icy blue eyes. "Forgot your saviour already? Did I make such a poor impression? Poo..." A long exhale follows and she shakes her head as if struggling to gain some composure. "I am Finna Snowdancer, Chosen of the Moon. My world's moon, that is. No need to raise all your heckles. Here to ask some questions and hopefully walk away with some answers! ... because the other day was noooooo time for a chat."
Thranduil	Thranduil looks down at the woman and folds his hands in front of him. "It is not often that a creature enters the realm let alone sits upon the head of one of the royal guards. You cannot be angry at those that did not recognize you due to you using an alternate form. What is it we can do for you then?"
Finna	Seeing Thranduil seemingly warming, Finna plants both hands on her hips and declares merrily, "Angry? Oh no, just playing around. But humor's a rarity around here... soooo, my apologies." Another breath and Finna adopts a more dignified demanor, letting her hands slide down t either side annd seamlessly adopting a more serene, neutral expression. "Straight to the point then. I came to learn about the twisted, dark taint that dominates more of this forest than I'd've ever thought possible. Stewardship of nature is one of the responsibilities Luna's given her Chosen... and while this is worlds away from the land she meant, rot can spread. And here then is you and your people, bravely persevering nearly by your lonesomes out here..." She smiles, then waggles a finger, "Or more simply, that Mirkwood place's a rotten mess that gives me the willies and your people definitely even more. Just what's happening in these parts?!"
Thranduil	"I know nothing of your world or its version of magic. This forest has been ill for many years.The illness spreads from the fortress of DOl Guldur. It is a foul sickness that comes from the Necromancer. He was once driven from the fortress but returned. It is not recommended ro send any group of people into the darkness."
Finna	"A... A necromancer. Ugh, why am I not surprised?" Finna shudder, shoulders slouching down with simultaneous disgust and disappointment. More issues with the dead. "Nothing good's ever come from Necromancy, not in my experience. Foul art to get tangled up in. Well, trouble's simpler than I expected. So... who is this necromancer?" Her tail's no longer wagging...
Thranduil	"The Necromancer is also known as Sauron. He is a man obsessed with power. To the south there are hoards of undead from Dol Guldur. The Necromancer means to wage war against theother races of Middle Earth. There is little we can do to stop them. Our alliance between Elves and Men diminished millenia ago."
Finna	"... More than just a man if he has power enough to taint a whole forest." Finna's ears droop down flatly and rather unhappily. "... Well, this is plenty of news some of my fellows will appreciate. But I wonder... if nothing can b done, what do you plan on doing? Does the rot not threaten your lands here?!"
Thranduil	"Yes, it threatens our kingdom. We have spells to drive them back, but eventually he will gain enough power to breach our protection and overwhelm the entire forest. There is little we can do but persevere within the walls of our kingdom. We will not allow it to draw us into the shadows."
Finna	"what?" Finna leans forward, now wide-eyed. "... when rabbits dig burrows, they make many exits. Should a snake enter one hole, he flees out another. But the hibernating bear... were a boulder to fall and block the den, they'd starve. The others who were about with me would fancy a go at a Necromancer who's upsetting things, you know. I know f dozens of skilled, daring folk with powerful maics and other things. So should you by now. Surely turtling's not your best and only option...!" She sounds worried. perhaps if not for Thranduil, then the people under him...
Thranduil	"There are many entrances and exits into this kingdom. All but two are hidden by magic. I cannot stop you if you wish to take on the Necromancer, I cannot stop you, but I warn you that he is a powerful enemy with a strong army. He has orcs, undead, wargs and other foul creatures at his disposal. His very presence in this forest makes my skin crawl."
Finna	"I'm certain... but fat lot of good they'll do if they all open to that twisted muck." Finna gurgles out, aggravated... then just shakes her head. "... Oh well... what you do's your choice. All I need to do's see what my fellows think of this mess. Guy like that sounds like trouble. Iiiiiiifff a good group of adventurers feels like getting risky, I might come back for more info on the guy. In the meantime... there's no way to purify the place and just ignore him? Some kind of... ward, maybe? ....Ehh... I guess protective magics that huge would be a legendary undertaking..."
Thranduil	"We have used the magic from both the Silvan Elves and the Elves of Rivendell. Galadriel herself has placed protective wards on the forest, but over time even those spells became tainted and twisted. It is futile."
Finna	"...So one Necromancer needs to be kicked in the face... I was hoping the problem was something simpler... but your people would've dealt with that if it was! How long've you people lived out here, anyways? This place feels older than some of the trees out there!" Which is saying something...
Thranduil	"If you can kick a being made of fire, then be my guest. We have been here for a few thousand years. My father was king before me. We came from the East, and there was a war. My father was killed and I took over as ruler of the woodland realm. We were forced north when Sauron took control of Dol Guldur the first time. It was once a wonderous Elven outpost."
Finna	"Er... well, my ancestors've gotten creative in the past. I'll just have to ask 'em!" Finna contests, not giving up so easily even if this Sauron guy is made out of fire. "... A few thousand years...sheesh, and I'm not even twenty yet. You sure don't look it! Ah well. I've taken up enough of your time. Looks like there aren't any easy answers here!"
Thranduil	"You're right. There are no easy answers here. Should you decide to assault Sauron, be warned that he is extremely powerful. I am six thousand years old. That is a mere blink in the life of an Elf."