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Story Hour
Bitterness Overcome: (Now A Completed Story!)
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<blockquote data-quote="Nonlethal Force" data-source="post: 3137552" data-attributes="member: 35788"><p><strong>Chapter Twelve: THE LONG SHOT </strong></p><p></p><p>The long awaited morning arrived. Most of the villagers had the benefit of a good night’s sleep. They were excited about their looming freedom; yet they had joyfully worked themselves to the bone the past few days and nights. Their minds tried to race with the thoughts of fleeing and the excitement of the day to come. Their exhausted bodies told them to lie down and go to sleep. When they eventually were able to find sleep, the majority of the villagers slept quite soundly during the night.</p><p></p><p>This was not the case for any of the members of the party. They had to be rather vigilant about keeping their watches and protecting the future of the days ahead. Semeion and Rhema hadn’t had any activity in the hidden cave besides a string of squirrels and the occasional rabbit. In truth, the job of guarding the hidden entrance to the dragon’s cave had become rather boring. Yet they had to remain attentive to their duties. The fact that they took turns sleeping in shifts had already messed up their sleeping schedule, making it even more difficult to focus on getting the rest that they would need for the coming day.</p><p></p><p>The same was true for Charis and Ischarus, except that they didn’t fear discovery from the dragon as much as they feared discovery from the denizens of the underground. There had been a few encounters as the days passed by, but a simple show of force was enough to scare off most of the animals that came their way in search of food. Fortunately for them they were far from the gnoll controlled lands and the kobolds underground were not prone to adventuring this far to the surface unless called forth by some greater force. Yet Charis had to remain especially cautious during the times when Ischarus was out with the horses bringing in the supplies. Between the duties of watching Darrok, protecting the food supplies, running the horses back and forth, and worrying about Semeion and Rhema, neither Charis nor Ischarus had been sleeping well of late. They were ready to put the coming day behind them.</p><p></p><p>In the village, people began to slowly mill about the circular flat stone altar around the normal time for the Morning Prayer vigil. A few had shown up early in anticipation, but fortunately most of the villagers had listened to Xando’s caution the night before about not doing anything out of the ordinary. It would be important that the village put on an appearance that this was simply just another day in the life of enslaved people.</p><p></p><p>As Xando noticed people were gathering early he peeked out a window of his own house to observe them. He spoke to himself as nervous energy flowed through his muscles. <span style="color: Lime">“Only a few out there this early, and they appear to be behaving themselves. They are standing around talking to one another rather than looking around expectantly. So far, so good.”</span> He paced around his own quarters for a few more minutes until he heard more and more people gathering. Inside, his heart leapt with each beat in anticipation of the moments to come. But his body also told him that the rising of the sun would come soon. It was time.</p><p></p><p>Xando stepped out of the hut and descended the two stairs that brought him down to the level of the ground. His eyes darted around the scene of the village. Today more than any other day it was important that the count of the villagers was right. Slowly his eyes made a methodic path through the people, his lips moving as his count was barely audible. It was tough to count the people as they moved about, but the numbers seemed to appear to be right.</p><p></p><p>A hand touched him from behind, resting upon his shoulder. Xando jumped several inches off the ground as the hand landed upon his shoulder and startled him. He spun around quickly, not knowing what he would find. Much to his relief, he saw that Semeion had approached him from behind.</p><p></p><p>The young mage wanted to speak briefly to the village leader. <span style="color: Plum">“Your people seem restless this morning.”</span></p><p></p><p>Xando smiled and replied, <span style="color: Lime">“With good reason, I believe. They know what they have worked for. They know that the days of their labor under an oppressive master are numbered. They long to taste the freedom that you, Charis, and the others have promised.”</span></p><p></p><p>Semeion nodded his head in agreement. <span style="color: Plum">“Let us hope their excitement does not betray us in their zeal to finish the Morning Prayer.”</span></p><p></p><p>Xando took a brief second to turn around and look at his people. They were good people, but as the village gathered their nervous energy was feeding off of one another. <span style="color: Lime">“My people are good people, like Charis. We will manage.”</span> There was a steadiness in Xando’s voice that Semeion understood as strength in leadership.</p><p></p><p>Semeion nodded calmly again. <span style="color: Plum">“I hope you are right. No, I know that you are right. But perhaps as we are called to worship it wouldn’t hurt to pass a message through the ranks to remember to do the rite as people who are under obvious oppression and not people who will soon be running for their freedom?”</span></p><p></p><p>Xando smiled. <span style="color: Lime">“I suppose you are correct, Semeion. Our dragon father has grown accustomed to this being an emotionless time for him to count us. We dare not change that and risk raising any suspicion.”</span></p><p></p><p>Semeion asked one final question as he could feel the tension among the people building around him. <span style="color: Plum">“Are all of the people here?”</span></p><p></p><p>The crisp sound of a small steel rod striking a metal triangle rang through the air. It was the call to gather. The sun was beginning to crest over the horizon. <span style="color: Lime">“We shall soon see. We shall soon see.”</span> Xando repeated himself as if preparing himself for the moments ahead. Once he had taken a moment of break he continued, <span style="color: Lime">“No go, and spread your message of calm. And keep it simple.”</span></p><p></p><p>Xando placed his left hand upon Semeion’s shoulder as if he were laying a blessing upon him. For a second they locked their eyes in a joint glance and then they turned away. Each one eagerly anticipated doing the count. The number had to be correct only one more time.</p><p></p><p>As Semeion took his place upon the ground in a kneeling position he spoke softly before the prayers began. <span style="color: Plum">“Listen to me, all that can hear. Remember that you are a people oppressed. Pray like you have prayed the past week. Do not pray with any of the excitement building up inside you.”</span></p><p></p><p>Some of the people around him nodded in understanding. Semeion continued. <span style="color: Plum">“Pass this message along.”</span></p><p></p><p>Soon he could hear the gathered villagers passing along the message around him. As their heads bowed, they spoke softly so as to not give away the communication. Nobody looked up to the dragon father’s perch, but they all assumed he was there. They assumed he was awaiting the beginning of the prayer. They assumed he was counting.</p><p></p><p>Grixanthrosilithiss was indeed perched high above them. As he looked down, he did notice that there were two bowed heads that seemed to be actively counting the gathered worshippers. He had already counted them and was pleased with his count. He reached out with a claw and drew his Provenience to the very lip of the rocky perch. <span style="color: Red">“See those two that count? It is good that they take my worship regulations so seriously. I believe one of them is your father, is it not?”</span> Of course he was referring to Semeion, who had taken Darrok’s place among the worship of the people.</p><p></p><p>The Provenience looked down and could barely see the people praying below. Her eyesight was not nearly as keen as that of her dragon father. Nervously, she spoke, <span style="color: Red">“I do not know, my dragon father. I cannot see as well as you.”</span></p><p></p><p>The dragon exhaled loudly and pulled her back from the ledge. A low rumble resembling a growl boiled forth from the inside of the beast. <span style="color: Red">“I keep hoping that with each breeding more of my qualities will improve the weaknesses of human kind. At least your children will have their share of my own undiluted power. In any case, it is good that your father takes the worship so seriously. See what he has learned from your willingness to serve your people in this role?”</span></p><p></p><p>The new Provenience bowed in a slight curtsy. <span style="color: Red">“Yes, my lord. It is time that they got over the oppression and learned again to take your commands so seriously.”</span></p><p></p><p>Grixanthrosilithiss smiled as he counted one last time. Satisfied, he turned away from the perch and led his Provenience into the cave. <span style="color: Red">“You have pleased me today. I prefer the simple worship that you offer to me upon your mandolin far better than the flat worship of the people anyway. Sing to me so that your pleasant voice may cover up the grievous and uncaring worship below. Once that dreadful service is over I will take you to my horde so that I may admire you among my other possessions.”</span></p><p></p><p>The Provenience smiled genuinely as she was led back into the cave. As the dragon curled his tail around her and then sat surrounding her, she gathered up her mandolin and rested it upon her thighs. She reclined slightly, enjoying the warmth of the dragon’s scales upon her back. Slowly, she began to sing a love ballad to her dragon father.</p><p></p><p>At near the same time, the people on the ground below began their worship. Nobody desired to look up and see if the dragon was watching or they would have noticed that the dragon was gone. They sang their worship through in much of the same manner as they had done for the past months. They sang as a people crushed under oppression. They sang as if their hearts were far from where they knelt. They sang constantly pushing back the anticipation that swelled as they approached the end of the Morning Prayer.</p><p></p><p>The final declaration of the prayer rite – to go and work during the day for the glory of the dragon father – would come quick enough. The gathered community progressed rapidly through the prayer rite. Semeion resisted the urge to fidget as even he could feel within himself the excitement building. As they approached the end of the rite, he brought himself to look up for the sign. He was the only one looking up. He was the only one that noticed the dragon father wasn’t there. The rest of the village was firmly holding their stare upon the ground below their knees.</p><p></p><p></p><p>[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]</p><p>Chapter Twelve: THE LONG SHOT </p><p></p><p>The long awaited morning arrived. Most of the villagers had the benefit of a good night’s sleep. They were excited about their looming freedom; yet they had joyfully worked themselves to the bone the past few days and nights. Their minds tried to race with the thoughts of fleeing and the excitement of the day to come. Their exhausted bodies told them to lie down and go to sleep. When they eventually were able to find sleep, the majority of the villagers slept quite soundly during the night.</p><p></p><p>This was not the case for any of the members of the party. They had to be rather vigilant about keeping their watches and protecting the future of the days ahead. Semeion and Rhema hadn’t had any activity in the hidden cave besides a string of squirrels and the occasional rabbit. In truth, the job of guarding the hidden entrance to the dragon’s cave had become rather boring. Yet they had to remain attentive to their duties. The fact that they took turns sleeping in shifts had already messed up their sleeping schedule, making it even more difficult to focus on getting the rest that they would need for the coming day.</p><p></p><p>The same was true for Charis and Ischarus, except that they didn’t fear discovery from the dragon as much as they feared discovery from the denizens of the underground. There had been a few encounters as the days passed by, but a simple show of force was enough to scare off most of the animals that came their way in search of food. Fortunately for them they were far from the gnoll controlled lands and the kobolds underground were not prone to adventuring this far to the surface unless called forth by some greater force. Yet Charis had to remain especially cautious during the times when Ischarus was out with the horses bringing in the supplies. Between the duties of watching Darrok, protecting the food supplies, running the horses back and forth, and worrying about Semeion and Rhema, neither Charis nor Ischarus had been sleeping well of late. They were ready to put the coming day behind them.</p><p></p><p>In the village, people began to slowly mill about the circular flat stone altar around the normal time for the Morning Prayer vigil. A few had shown up early in anticipation, but fortunately most of the villagers had listened to Xando’s caution the night before about not doing anything out of the ordinary. It would be important that the village put on an appearance that this was simply just another day in the life of enslaved people.</p><p></p><p>As Xando noticed people were gathering early he peeked out a window of his own house to observe them. He spoke to himself as nervous energy flowed through his muscles. “Only a few out there this early, and they appear to be behaving themselves. They are standing around talking to one another rather than looking around expectantly. So far, so good.” He paced around his own quarters for a few more minutes until he heard more and more people gathering. Inside, his heart leapt with each beat in anticipation of the moments to come. But his body also told him that the rising of the sun would come soon. It was time.</p><p></p><p>Xando stepped out of the hut and descended the two stairs that brought him down to the level of the ground. His eyes darted around the scene of the village. Today more than any other day it was important that the count of the villagers was right. Slowly his eyes made a methodic path through the people, his lips moving as his count was barely audible. It was tough to count the people as they moved about, but the numbers seemed to appear to be right.</p><p></p><p>A hand touched him from behind, resting upon his shoulder. Xando jumped several inches off the ground as the hand landed upon his shoulder and startled him. He spun around quickly, not knowing what he would find. Much to his relief, he saw that Semeion had approached him from behind.</p><p></p><p>The young mage wanted to speak briefly to the village leader. “Your people seem restless this morning.”</p><p></p><p>Xando smiled and replied, “With good reason, I believe. They know what they have worked for. They know that the days of their labor under an oppressive master are numbered. They long to taste the freedom that you, Charis, and the others have promised.”</p><p></p><p>Semeion nodded his head in agreement. “Let us hope their excitement does not betray us in their zeal to finish the Morning Prayer.”</p><p></p><p>Xando took a brief second to turn around and look at his people. They were good people, but as the village gathered their nervous energy was feeding off of one another. “My people are good people, like Charis. We will manage.” There was a steadiness in Xando’s voice that Semeion understood as strength in leadership.</p><p></p><p>Semeion nodded calmly again. “I hope you are right. No, I know that you are right. But perhaps as we are called to worship it wouldn’t hurt to pass a message through the ranks to remember to do the rite as people who are under obvious oppression and not people who will soon be running for their freedom?”</p><p></p><p>Xando smiled. “I suppose you are correct, Semeion. Our dragon father has grown accustomed to this being an emotionless time for him to count us. We dare not change that and risk raising any suspicion.”</p><p></p><p>Semeion asked one final question as he could feel the tension among the people building around him. “Are all of the people here?”</p><p></p><p>The crisp sound of a small steel rod striking a metal triangle rang through the air. It was the call to gather. The sun was beginning to crest over the horizon. “We shall soon see. We shall soon see.” Xando repeated himself as if preparing himself for the moments ahead. Once he had taken a moment of break he continued, “No go, and spread your message of calm. And keep it simple.”</p><p></p><p>Xando placed his left hand upon Semeion’s shoulder as if he were laying a blessing upon him. For a second they locked their eyes in a joint glance and then they turned away. Each one eagerly anticipated doing the count. The number had to be correct only one more time.</p><p></p><p>As Semeion took his place upon the ground in a kneeling position he spoke softly before the prayers began. “Listen to me, all that can hear. Remember that you are a people oppressed. Pray like you have prayed the past week. Do not pray with any of the excitement building up inside you.”</p><p></p><p>Some of the people around him nodded in understanding. Semeion continued. “Pass this message along.”</p><p></p><p>Soon he could hear the gathered villagers passing along the message around him. As their heads bowed, they spoke softly so as to not give away the communication. Nobody looked up to the dragon father’s perch, but they all assumed he was there. They assumed he was awaiting the beginning of the prayer. They assumed he was counting.</p><p></p><p>Grixanthrosilithiss was indeed perched high above them. As he looked down, he did notice that there were two bowed heads that seemed to be actively counting the gathered worshippers. He had already counted them and was pleased with his count. He reached out with a claw and drew his Provenience to the very lip of the rocky perch. “See those two that count? It is good that they take my worship regulations so seriously. I believe one of them is your father, is it not?” Of course he was referring to Semeion, who had taken Darrok’s place among the worship of the people.</p><p></p><p>The Provenience looked down and could barely see the people praying below. Her eyesight was not nearly as keen as that of her dragon father. Nervously, she spoke, “I do not know, my dragon father. I cannot see as well as you.”</p><p></p><p>The dragon exhaled loudly and pulled her back from the ledge. A low rumble resembling a growl boiled forth from the inside of the beast. “I keep hoping that with each breeding more of my qualities will improve the weaknesses of human kind. At least your children will have their share of my own undiluted power. In any case, it is good that your father takes the worship so seriously. See what he has learned from your willingness to serve your people in this role?”</p><p></p><p>The new Provenience bowed in a slight curtsy. “Yes, my lord. It is time that they got over the oppression and learned again to take your commands so seriously.”</p><p></p><p>Grixanthrosilithiss smiled as he counted one last time. Satisfied, he turned away from the perch and led his Provenience into the cave. “You have pleased me today. I prefer the simple worship that you offer to me upon your mandolin far better than the flat worship of the people anyway. Sing to me so that your pleasant voice may cover up the grievous and uncaring worship below. Once that dreadful service is over I will take you to my horde so that I may admire you among my other possessions.”</p><p></p><p>The Provenience smiled genuinely as she was led back into the cave. As the dragon curled his tail around her and then sat surrounding her, she gathered up her mandolin and rested it upon her thighs. She reclined slightly, enjoying the warmth of the dragon’s scales upon her back. Slowly, she began to sing a love ballad to her dragon father.</p><p></p><p>At near the same time, the people on the ground below began their worship. Nobody desired to look up and see if the dragon was watching or they would have noticed that the dragon was gone. They sang their worship through in much of the same manner as they had done for the past months. They sang as a people crushed under oppression. They sang as if their hearts were far from where they knelt. They sang constantly pushing back the anticipation that swelled as they approached the end of the Morning Prayer.</p><p></p><p>The final declaration of the prayer rite – to go and work during the day for the glory of the dragon father – would come quick enough. The gathered community progressed rapidly through the prayer rite. Semeion resisted the urge to fidget as even he could feel within himself the excitement building. As they approached the end of the rite, he brought himself to look up for the sign. He was the only one looking up. He was the only one that noticed the dragon father wasn’t there. The rest of the village was firmly holding their stare upon the ground below their knees.</p><p>[/Sblock]</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Nonlethal Force, post: 3137552, member: 35788"] [B]Chapter Twelve: THE LONG SHOT [/B] The long awaited morning arrived. Most of the villagers had the benefit of a good night’s sleep. They were excited about their looming freedom; yet they had joyfully worked themselves to the bone the past few days and nights. Their minds tried to race with the thoughts of fleeing and the excitement of the day to come. Their exhausted bodies told them to lie down and go to sleep. When they eventually were able to find sleep, the majority of the villagers slept quite soundly during the night. This was not the case for any of the members of the party. They had to be rather vigilant about keeping their watches and protecting the future of the days ahead. Semeion and Rhema hadn’t had any activity in the hidden cave besides a string of squirrels and the occasional rabbit. In truth, the job of guarding the hidden entrance to the dragon’s cave had become rather boring. Yet they had to remain attentive to their duties. The fact that they took turns sleeping in shifts had already messed up their sleeping schedule, making it even more difficult to focus on getting the rest that they would need for the coming day. The same was true for Charis and Ischarus, except that they didn’t fear discovery from the dragon as much as they feared discovery from the denizens of the underground. There had been a few encounters as the days passed by, but a simple show of force was enough to scare off most of the animals that came their way in search of food. Fortunately for them they were far from the gnoll controlled lands and the kobolds underground were not prone to adventuring this far to the surface unless called forth by some greater force. Yet Charis had to remain especially cautious during the times when Ischarus was out with the horses bringing in the supplies. Between the duties of watching Darrok, protecting the food supplies, running the horses back and forth, and worrying about Semeion and Rhema, neither Charis nor Ischarus had been sleeping well of late. They were ready to put the coming day behind them. In the village, people began to slowly mill about the circular flat stone altar around the normal time for the Morning Prayer vigil. A few had shown up early in anticipation, but fortunately most of the villagers had listened to Xando’s caution the night before about not doing anything out of the ordinary. It would be important that the village put on an appearance that this was simply just another day in the life of enslaved people. As Xando noticed people were gathering early he peeked out a window of his own house to observe them. He spoke to himself as nervous energy flowed through his muscles. [Color=Lime]“Only a few out there this early, and they appear to be behaving themselves. They are standing around talking to one another rather than looking around expectantly. So far, so good.”[/Color] He paced around his own quarters for a few more minutes until he heard more and more people gathering. Inside, his heart leapt with each beat in anticipation of the moments to come. But his body also told him that the rising of the sun would come soon. It was time. Xando stepped out of the hut and descended the two stairs that brought him down to the level of the ground. His eyes darted around the scene of the village. Today more than any other day it was important that the count of the villagers was right. Slowly his eyes made a methodic path through the people, his lips moving as his count was barely audible. It was tough to count the people as they moved about, but the numbers seemed to appear to be right. A hand touched him from behind, resting upon his shoulder. Xando jumped several inches off the ground as the hand landed upon his shoulder and startled him. He spun around quickly, not knowing what he would find. Much to his relief, he saw that Semeion had approached him from behind. The young mage wanted to speak briefly to the village leader. [Color=Plum]“Your people seem restless this morning.”[/Color] Xando smiled and replied, [Color=Lime]“With good reason, I believe. They know what they have worked for. They know that the days of their labor under an oppressive master are numbered. They long to taste the freedom that you, Charis, and the others have promised.”[/Color] Semeion nodded his head in agreement. [Color=Plum]“Let us hope their excitement does not betray us in their zeal to finish the Morning Prayer.”[/Color] Xando took a brief second to turn around and look at his people. They were good people, but as the village gathered their nervous energy was feeding off of one another. [Color=Lime]“My people are good people, like Charis. We will manage.”[/Color] There was a steadiness in Xando’s voice that Semeion understood as strength in leadership. Semeion nodded calmly again. [Color=Plum]“I hope you are right. No, I know that you are right. But perhaps as we are called to worship it wouldn’t hurt to pass a message through the ranks to remember to do the rite as people who are under obvious oppression and not people who will soon be running for their freedom?”[/Color] Xando smiled. [Color=Lime]“I suppose you are correct, Semeion. Our dragon father has grown accustomed to this being an emotionless time for him to count us. We dare not change that and risk raising any suspicion.”[/Color] Semeion asked one final question as he could feel the tension among the people building around him. [Color=Plum]“Are all of the people here?”[/Color] The crisp sound of a small steel rod striking a metal triangle rang through the air. It was the call to gather. The sun was beginning to crest over the horizon. [Color=Lime]“We shall soon see. We shall soon see.”[/Color] Xando repeated himself as if preparing himself for the moments ahead. Once he had taken a moment of break he continued, [Color=Lime]“No go, and spread your message of calm. And keep it simple.”[/Color] Xando placed his left hand upon Semeion’s shoulder as if he were laying a blessing upon him. For a second they locked their eyes in a joint glance and then they turned away. Each one eagerly anticipated doing the count. The number had to be correct only one more time. As Semeion took his place upon the ground in a kneeling position he spoke softly before the prayers began. [Color=Plum]“Listen to me, all that can hear. Remember that you are a people oppressed. Pray like you have prayed the past week. Do not pray with any of the excitement building up inside you.”[/Color] Some of the people around him nodded in understanding. Semeion continued. [Color=Plum]“Pass this message along.”[/Color] Soon he could hear the gathered villagers passing along the message around him. As their heads bowed, they spoke softly so as to not give away the communication. Nobody looked up to the dragon father’s perch, but they all assumed he was there. They assumed he was awaiting the beginning of the prayer. They assumed he was counting. Grixanthrosilithiss was indeed perched high above them. As he looked down, he did notice that there were two bowed heads that seemed to be actively counting the gathered worshippers. He had already counted them and was pleased with his count. He reached out with a claw and drew his Provenience to the very lip of the rocky perch. [Color=Red]“See those two that count? It is good that they take my worship regulations so seriously. I believe one of them is your father, is it not?”[/Color] Of course he was referring to Semeion, who had taken Darrok’s place among the worship of the people. The Provenience looked down and could barely see the people praying below. Her eyesight was not nearly as keen as that of her dragon father. Nervously, she spoke, [Color=Red]“I do not know, my dragon father. I cannot see as well as you.”[/Color] The dragon exhaled loudly and pulled her back from the ledge. A low rumble resembling a growl boiled forth from the inside of the beast. [Color=Red]“I keep hoping that with each breeding more of my qualities will improve the weaknesses of human kind. At least your children will have their share of my own undiluted power. In any case, it is good that your father takes the worship so seriously. See what he has learned from your willingness to serve your people in this role?”[/Color] The new Provenience bowed in a slight curtsy. [Color=Red]“Yes, my lord. It is time that they got over the oppression and learned again to take your commands so seriously.”[/Color] Grixanthrosilithiss smiled as he counted one last time. Satisfied, he turned away from the perch and led his Provenience into the cave. [Color=Red]“You have pleased me today. I prefer the simple worship that you offer to me upon your mandolin far better than the flat worship of the people anyway. Sing to me so that your pleasant voice may cover up the grievous and uncaring worship below. Once that dreadful service is over I will take you to my horde so that I may admire you among my other possessions.”[/Color] The Provenience smiled genuinely as she was led back into the cave. As the dragon curled his tail around her and then sat surrounding her, she gathered up her mandolin and rested it upon her thighs. She reclined slightly, enjoying the warmth of the dragon’s scales upon her back. Slowly, she began to sing a love ballad to her dragon father. At near the same time, the people on the ground below began their worship. Nobody desired to look up and see if the dragon was watching or they would have noticed that the dragon was gone. They sang their worship through in much of the same manner as they had done for the past months. They sang as a people crushed under oppression. They sang as if their hearts were far from where they knelt. They sang constantly pushing back the anticipation that swelled as they approached the end of the Morning Prayer. The final declaration of the prayer rite – to go and work during the day for the glory of the dragon father – would come quick enough. The gathered community progressed rapidly through the prayer rite. Semeion resisted the urge to fidget as even he could feel within himself the excitement building. As they approached the end of the rite, he brought himself to look up for the sign. He was the only one looking up. He was the only one that noticed the dragon father wasn’t there. The rest of the village was firmly holding their stare upon the ground below their knees. [Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section] Chapter Twelve: THE LONG SHOT The long awaited morning arrived. Most of the villagers had the benefit of a good night’s sleep. They were excited about their looming freedom; yet they had joyfully worked themselves to the bone the past few days and nights. Their minds tried to race with the thoughts of fleeing and the excitement of the day to come. Their exhausted bodies told them to lie down and go to sleep. When they eventually were able to find sleep, the majority of the villagers slept quite soundly during the night. This was not the case for any of the members of the party. They had to be rather vigilant about keeping their watches and protecting the future of the days ahead. Semeion and Rhema hadn’t had any activity in the hidden cave besides a string of squirrels and the occasional rabbit. In truth, the job of guarding the hidden entrance to the dragon’s cave had become rather boring. Yet they had to remain attentive to their duties. The fact that they took turns sleeping in shifts had already messed up their sleeping schedule, making it even more difficult to focus on getting the rest that they would need for the coming day. The same was true for Charis and Ischarus, except that they didn’t fear discovery from the dragon as much as they feared discovery from the denizens of the underground. There had been a few encounters as the days passed by, but a simple show of force was enough to scare off most of the animals that came their way in search of food. Fortunately for them they were far from the gnoll controlled lands and the kobolds underground were not prone to adventuring this far to the surface unless called forth by some greater force. Yet Charis had to remain especially cautious during the times when Ischarus was out with the horses bringing in the supplies. Between the duties of watching Darrok, protecting the food supplies, running the horses back and forth, and worrying about Semeion and Rhema, neither Charis nor Ischarus had been sleeping well of late. They were ready to put the coming day behind them. In the village, people began to slowly mill about the circular flat stone altar around the normal time for the Morning Prayer vigil. A few had shown up early in anticipation, but fortunately most of the villagers had listened to Xando’s caution the night before about not doing anything out of the ordinary. It would be important that the village put on an appearance that this was simply just another day in the life of enslaved people. As Xando noticed people were gathering early he peeked out a window of his own house to observe them. He spoke to himself as nervous energy flowed through his muscles. “Only a few out there this early, and they appear to be behaving themselves. They are standing around talking to one another rather than looking around expectantly. So far, so good.” He paced around his own quarters for a few more minutes until he heard more and more people gathering. Inside, his heart leapt with each beat in anticipation of the moments to come. But his body also told him that the rising of the sun would come soon. It was time. Xando stepped out of the hut and descended the two stairs that brought him down to the level of the ground. His eyes darted around the scene of the village. Today more than any other day it was important that the count of the villagers was right. Slowly his eyes made a methodic path through the people, his lips moving as his count was barely audible. It was tough to count the people as they moved about, but the numbers seemed to appear to be right. A hand touched him from behind, resting upon his shoulder. Xando jumped several inches off the ground as the hand landed upon his shoulder and startled him. He spun around quickly, not knowing what he would find. Much to his relief, he saw that Semeion had approached him from behind. The young mage wanted to speak briefly to the village leader. “Your people seem restless this morning.” Xando smiled and replied, “With good reason, I believe. They know what they have worked for. They know that the days of their labor under an oppressive master are numbered. They long to taste the freedom that you, Charis, and the others have promised.” Semeion nodded his head in agreement. “Let us hope their excitement does not betray us in their zeal to finish the Morning Prayer.” Xando took a brief second to turn around and look at his people. They were good people, but as the village gathered their nervous energy was feeding off of one another. “My people are good people, like Charis. We will manage.” There was a steadiness in Xando’s voice that Semeion understood as strength in leadership. Semeion nodded calmly again. “I hope you are right. No, I know that you are right. But perhaps as we are called to worship it wouldn’t hurt to pass a message through the ranks to remember to do the rite as people who are under obvious oppression and not people who will soon be running for their freedom?” Xando smiled. “I suppose you are correct, Semeion. Our dragon father has grown accustomed to this being an emotionless time for him to count us. We dare not change that and risk raising any suspicion.” Semeion asked one final question as he could feel the tension among the people building around him. “Are all of the people here?” The crisp sound of a small steel rod striking a metal triangle rang through the air. It was the call to gather. The sun was beginning to crest over the horizon. “We shall soon see. We shall soon see.” Xando repeated himself as if preparing himself for the moments ahead. Once he had taken a moment of break he continued, “No go, and spread your message of calm. And keep it simple.” Xando placed his left hand upon Semeion’s shoulder as if he were laying a blessing upon him. For a second they locked their eyes in a joint glance and then they turned away. Each one eagerly anticipated doing the count. The number had to be correct only one more time. As Semeion took his place upon the ground in a kneeling position he spoke softly before the prayers began. “Listen to me, all that can hear. Remember that you are a people oppressed. Pray like you have prayed the past week. Do not pray with any of the excitement building up inside you.” Some of the people around him nodded in understanding. Semeion continued. “Pass this message along.” Soon he could hear the gathered villagers passing along the message around him. As their heads bowed, they spoke softly so as to not give away the communication. Nobody looked up to the dragon father’s perch, but they all assumed he was there. They assumed he was awaiting the beginning of the prayer. They assumed he was counting. Grixanthrosilithiss was indeed perched high above them. As he looked down, he did notice that there were two bowed heads that seemed to be actively counting the gathered worshippers. He had already counted them and was pleased with his count. He reached out with a claw and drew his Provenience to the very lip of the rocky perch. “See those two that count? It is good that they take my worship regulations so seriously. I believe one of them is your father, is it not?” Of course he was referring to Semeion, who had taken Darrok’s place among the worship of the people. The Provenience looked down and could barely see the people praying below. Her eyesight was not nearly as keen as that of her dragon father. Nervously, she spoke, “I do not know, my dragon father. I cannot see as well as you.” The dragon exhaled loudly and pulled her back from the ledge. A low rumble resembling a growl boiled forth from the inside of the beast. “I keep hoping that with each breeding more of my qualities will improve the weaknesses of human kind. At least your children will have their share of my own undiluted power. In any case, it is good that your father takes the worship so seriously. See what he has learned from your willingness to serve your people in this role?” The new Provenience bowed in a slight curtsy. “Yes, my lord. It is time that they got over the oppression and learned again to take your commands so seriously.” Grixanthrosilithiss smiled as he counted one last time. Satisfied, he turned away from the perch and led his Provenience into the cave. “You have pleased me today. I prefer the simple worship that you offer to me upon your mandolin far better than the flat worship of the people anyway. Sing to me so that your pleasant voice may cover up the grievous and uncaring worship below. Once that dreadful service is over I will take you to my horde so that I may admire you among my other possessions.” The Provenience smiled genuinely as she was led back into the cave. As the dragon curled his tail around her and then sat surrounding her, she gathered up her mandolin and rested it upon her thighs. She reclined slightly, enjoying the warmth of the dragon’s scales upon her back. Slowly, she began to sing a love ballad to her dragon father. At near the same time, the people on the ground below began their worship. Nobody desired to look up and see if the dragon was watching or they would have noticed that the dragon was gone. They sang their worship through in much of the same manner as they had done for the past months. They sang as a people crushed under oppression. They sang as if their hearts were far from where they knelt. They sang constantly pushing back the anticipation that swelled as they approached the end of the Morning Prayer. The final declaration of the prayer rite – to go and work during the day for the glory of the dragon father – would come quick enough. The gathered community progressed rapidly through the prayer rite. Semeion resisted the urge to fidget as even he could feel within himself the excitement building. As they approached the end of the rite, he brought himself to look up for the sign. He was the only one looking up. He was the only one that noticed the dragon father wasn’t there. The rest of the village was firmly holding their stare upon the ground below their knees. [/Sblock] [/QUOTE]
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