"You're welcome! Um, from what, though?"

"Mordremoth's surprise attack, and his minions."

"Who's Mordremoth?"

"The dragon—are you from another world?"

"I'm from Fairyland. You summoned me here."

"I'm not sure how I could have done that." He looks around, then points at the monstrous plant things. "Is your magic enough to dispose of those?"

"I could burn them. Or dump them in the ocean. Or launch them out past the moon."

"Go with burning, I wouldn't put it past them to return from the ocean or—did you just say past the moon?"

"Assuming you have one, I guess."

"We do. Stick with the fire, please."

"Okay."

So the trick is that if you rub two things together fast enough, they'll catch on fire. This is easier if it's, y'know, flammable stuff. Fortunately, there's a lot of spare wood around these parts. She flits around looking for a couple suitable pieces of debris. Once she finds a workable pair of sticks, she pops over near the burn pile and the sticks blur into motion against each other until with a soft fwoosh they ignite. She introduces the flame to the pile at several points until it catches.

"And can you keep those people constrained while releasing the others?" he asks, pointing at the group with the more violent plant people.

"Yep!" Behold your sudden freedom of movement, good guys. Bad guys, you need to stay down still.

He nods. "Thank you."

A very, very tall woman with purple tattoos on her face and exposed left thigh walks over to them. "Marshal—what in Bear's name happened?"

Evanathe cranes her neck, then floats upwards until their heads are level. "Your fleet was getting attacked by murderplants and murdertentacles, and then I got summoned and I moved the fleet away from the murdertentacles and burned the murderplants."

She looks at Evanathe. "And who's this?"

"I don't actually know. This is Eir Stegalkin," the Marshal introduces the tall woman. "And I am Trahearne."

"Nice to meet you! I'm Evanathe. I'm pretty sure I said that already."

Trahearne pauses, then nods. "So you did. I apologise, I've been having a day."

    "Haven't we all," says Eir, shaking her head. She turns to Evanathe. "May the spirits of the wild protect you. How did you come to be here, and what magic is this?"

"She says I summoned her somehow," Trahearne explains, "but that is as much as I know. Eir, could you take over? I need to reorganise the Pact."

    "Of course, Marshal."

"If you'll excuse me?" he asks of Evanathe.

She waves. "Have fun."

"So, what's the story?" asks Eir. "You don't look like a regular summons."

"I don't think I am a regular summons. Your language doesn't, uh, have a word for what I am. Also, I've never seen a plant person before."

"A sylvari? They've only been around for about twenty-five years."

"Pretty sure I've taken a summons more recently than that. There weren't any sylvari, nice word. Or dragons. Or people with swords, really, those went out of fashion a while ago. Kind of a shame, I thought they were neat. Anyway, all that plus the Marshal's confusion about summoning me makes me think that something went wrong and this is not the world I'm used to."

"So you are from another world. That was very powerful magic, we owe you our lives."

"You're welcome! I take payment in cookies."