Long Lives

Campaign: The Waterwyrm's Cradle

Chapter 2 / EX2-1

Long Lives

Previous Quest

Dragalia Lost

Next Quest

The Fiendchiefs

Summary

Sylvans live long lives, and Luca is older than he appears. But he has nothing on Cleo, who has been alive centuries longer than others of her kind.

Dialogue

The forest refuge seems so far away now. What an experience that was! I cannot remember the last time I saw so many sylvans gathered in a single place. You have a fine community, Luca— each person looking out for the next. I agree. And you know, despite what the elder said, a sylvan can be long in the tooth and still put up a decent fight. Course, the elder is so old, he barely has any teeth left. We can't allow him to go running into any battles. Guarding the village falls upon us young, spry sylvans. And just how young and spry are you? I'll admit you don't appear to be a fully grown man, but looks can be deceiving. Well, let's just say I'm not too old, but I'm older than I seem. Less of a child than you, I'd reckon— so no talking down to me. As grateful as I am to all of you for coming to my aid, I don't need support. It's my turn to look after you now. You're lucky to have someone older and wiser to guide you along. Heh... Aaah ha ha ha! Er, what's so funny? YOU? Look after ME? In another century, perhaps. Er, wait. How old ARE you? You're not older than me, right?! C'mon. Tell me. I'll keep it a secret. Yes, you will—on pain of death. But very well... I cannot remember exactly when I was born, but it must have been three or four hundred years ago. WHAT?! Okay, come on. No sylvan looks that youthful after three centuries—let alone four! Many things have happened since that fated battle came to a close... That actually doesn't explain anything, and yet you seem so sincere. I feel like it has to be true. ...Probably. I'm sorry, Cleo. I didn't mean to speak ill of you. Clearly you merit my respect. Can I carry your pack? Henceforth, I shall refer to you as the Great and Mighty Cleo. Please do not. Really? All right, then. Hmm... I could call you Granny Cle— At your own peril. Kidding! Kidding. Have mercy, Mama Cleo. I am not your mother. ...Thank goodness. Leave her alone already, dummy! Blarrrfff! Ow! Geez, Sarisse... Are you FOLLOWING me? I thought I told you to stay at the refuge! I can hear you making a fool of yourself from miles away—and whenever THAT happens, I come a-runnin'! I'm going home now—but stop pestering Cleo. Don't make me come back here! She ran halfway across the forest to punch me in the gut? So it seems. Ah, youth...