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<blockquote data-quote="Carnifex" data-source="post: 1303084" data-attributes="member: 227"><p>Another update from me <img src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" class="smilie smilie--sprite smilie--sprite1" alt=":)" title="Smile :)" loading="lazy" data-shortname=":)" /> Hopefully I'll be able to keep up a good rate of posting. Today's update, we see the aftermath of the death of Wolf, and the reactions by the different members of the band to the traumatic loss of their leader...</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Wyshira knew in her heart what was coming, almost as soon as her spell wore off and she heard that first strangled cough; but when Wolf's throat finally closed and he gasped his last tortured breath, she could only stare in shocked disbelief as his life slipped away. "He's gone," she whispered numbly. How had it come to this? </p><p></p><p></p><p>She had failed, failed, failed.... She had not been skilled enough, had not been vigilant enough, had not been properly prepared to care for the crew. She had let their leader die. </p><p></p><p></p><p>Looking away from Wolf's frozen, pain-contorted visage, Wyshira lifted her tear-streaked face to gaze upwards at the darkening sky.</p><p></p><p></p><p>* * *</p><p></p><p></p><p>The last rattling breath, and the subsequent hushed halting stillness of her companions came to Ebri's ears, some hundred yards up the path, as she scouted for the most efficient route. <em>The matter is decided, then--</em> she thought, noting at the same time a patch of pau'ti berry by its fragrant, jasmine-cinnamon like smell. Rather appropriately, the fruit was often used in preparations for the dead, to cover the smell of decay. <em>A veil, another cover, to aid in the pretense-- to avoid the uncomfortable reality of death and loss. </em>Ironically, such delusions never brought the comfort they sought; avoiding reality only kept the mind enslaved, asleep, wandering in its own illusions... <em>And your mind is wandering, as well-- and this line of thought is neither efficient nor useful nor timely--</em> she brought herself up short, and made quickly for the others and the camp. </p><p></p><p></p><p>There was a very narrow window of time, now, for what happened in the next moments would determine the group dynamic for possibly months to come. The mercenary's death would cause a gaping hole in the group's leadership and decision making and direction-- <em>How to direct things best, now?</em> Her mind cast quickly through the host of options, as she flew down the path. </p><p></p><p></p><p><em>They will turn to Kale, now-- and he will feel himself both honor-bound and justified. The mantle of leadership will fall upon him by his connection to Wolf.</em> That had both troublesome and useful implications.<em> It would be best to acknowledge his leadership, and direct the course of events as subtly as possible...</em> It was unlikely, in any event, that they would follow her, nor did she want it-- the scrutiny would hamper her severely. </p><p></p><p>So thinking, she came into the circle of light, garments fluttering with haste. "He is gone, then--" she observed, and let her body take on an appropriately subdued and respectful attitude, as she came to stand at his feet. "Immar bless your feet, Wolf Kieresane, and speed you upon the Road," she murmurred, loudly enough for all to hear, but as if she were praying privately. She then looked directly at Kale. "What would you have us do? Do you know aught of his wishes?"</p><p></p><p></p><p>* * *</p><p></p><p></p><p>It was Pierre, whom Melisande had asked to contribute a couple more pairs of eyes and ears to scouting ahead, who first noticed no one was following. Mel reined in her mare and looked back, vexed. Didn't they understand there wasn't time to discuss this? </p><p></p><p></p><p>But turning back toward the knot of somber people around Wolf she had time to realize what must have happened, and dismounted slowly. Her face had gone pale as a winter sky. </p><p></p><p></p><p>So far her adventures with her new friends had been just that: adventures. People had been hurt--including herself--and they had lost Sandslipper to some strange disease, but the whole thing just got a great deal more serious as far as Mel was concerned. Of course since they met Klavius a few days ago her attitude had already changed profoundly; Wolf's death was a sobering confirmation that quests (as opposed to adventures) were deadly serious things. The ranger had been on his own quest apparently, and here was its end: ignoble death by poison in the mountain wilderness on what Wolf probably considered a routine job for some Naserian noble. </p><p></p><p></p><p>Did a variation on this theme await every one of her companions? </p><p></p><p></p><p>She moved up to peer over Wyshira's shoulder. It felt very strange and final to see Wolf lying so still. Tears were welling up in her eyes, but a foolishly tenacious part of her did not want to accept this. </p><p></p><p></p><p>"There are priests who can raise the dead. I've heard so many stories about them. And don't they usually live in places like remote mountain monasteries? If we-- if we--" She heard herself sounding hysterical and covered her mouth to keep any further ranting on the inside. It sounded painful in the face of the real grief some of her companions were experiencing. Realizing this, Mel put a hand on Wyshira's shoulder, with one versatile phrase for many of the feelings of the moment. </p><p></p><p></p><p>"I'm sorry." </p><p></p><p></p><p>* * *</p><p></p><p></p><p>Bowing his head slightly as the death rattle started, Sebastion thought for a moment of what he had learnt from the experienced man. Side by side they'd stood and fought - not a thing you could go through and not learn a little something of each other.</p><p></p><p></p><p>Not far off, Burl, seemingly shocked into desperation by the death of Wolf, began frantically demanding that the healers do something, anything, to save the man. Hearing the recriminations start, Sebastion saw that perhaps some people needed reminding of how close they'd become over the last few days. Kale, of course, would be a slower, colder anger than Burl's, just as the Immarian's apparent indifference and flowery words would fuel it. What he'd really learned from Wolf, though, was that being a leader didn't mean telling everyone what to do, but in making them realise they could do it for themselves.</p><p></p><p></p><p>Bending down next to the corpse, he reached out to close the weather-worn eyes - surprised for a moment at how difficult that actually was - and pressed a coin into his left palm. </p><p></p><p></p><p>"Burl," he said, quietly, looking up, "you know that Wyshira would have done everything she could to save him, just as you or I would." </p><p></p><p></p><p><em>Hopefully they will choose not to pick up on the fact I didn't include Ebri in that declaration... </em></p><p></p><p></p><p>"He was a mercenary. He chose a life that placed him in harm's way, and accepted that death was a possibility. That's the life we've chosen, now. Let's try to live it like he did - well." </p><p></p><p></p><p>"Sir Knight - do you know of anywhere we might camp for the night near here? I don't believe any of us will feel up to travelling."</p><p></p><p></p><p>* * *</p><p></p><p></p><p>Burl had lashed out. Lashed out with angry words at his closest companion in the band, Wyshira. Now as his grief was subsiding, he stood and walked to the priestess. Putting his arm around her shoulder, Burl quietly spoke to her. </p><p></p><p></p><p>“Please forgive me for accusing you of letting Wolf die. It was only my grief that caused me to react to his death as I did. I know for a fact that you would give your life for Wolf to be standing here with us. You did all that was possible under the circumstances. All that is left for us is to continue on living each day in the hope that we will somehow be able to enact revenge upon those responsible for this. </p><p></p><p></p><p>Wolf, you and Kale rescued me, possibly saved my life. I owe the three of you everything. I cannot rest until they are made to pay for this.” </p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>* * *</p><p></p><p></p><p>Kale's face slid as he looked to where Sebastion and the Black Knight sat mounted. He could still hear the frantic sputterings of waning life. In a short moment, one slow, fading breath later, it was all over. Death reflected in the eyes of those who saw- the young mercenary didn't need to look. </p><p></p><p></p><p>Taking a slow, deep breath, it felt like he was breathing cotton. Waves of emotion washed over him, only over, as he parted the despair before him. Turning slowly to where Wolf lay, he looked on to a scene that hardly seemed to touch him. Something in Kale's eyes had changed, and as his companions commented around him, the mercenary simply observed the scene as an assigned professional. </p><p></p><p></p><p>Burl vowed revenge, Sebastion offered transition and leadership, even Ebri offered a blessing. Wyshira and Melisande sank, but all Kale could see was a crew in need of a good camp for the night. He felt a storm, rumbling somewhere out of view, but it was just the more reason to get the crew situated and safe. There was work to be done. </p><p></p><p></p><p>Deliberately, he walked to where Wolf lie, still and sleeping for the first time. Tiny details cemented in his mind- the still curl in his hair, the creeps of bloodstains fading in inches from vibrant red to a cold and crusty brown. The mercenary's chest lay still, while his strong, caloused hands set relaxed and empty at his sides. Kale set his jaw. The details weren't important. His friend, their leader was gone, and the crew would have to get along without. </p><p></p><p></p><p>"What would you have us do? Do you know aught of his wishes?" </p><p></p><p></p><p>"Nothing changes." Kale said out of place. "We make our way to our objective, after we visit the monastary to secure arrangements for Wolf. But now, we camp here for the night, and make way in the morning." Somehow, it was all very easy. The death of Kale's mentor simply brought about a cause and effect. There was no longer any rush, so why hurry? Besides, there was no reason to risk the horses to a bad step in the dark. Driving on would have been good to keep the company busy rather than dwell on their loss, but camping for the night was the practical decision. </p><p></p><p></p><p>Carefully, Kale resecured his mentor for travel. Caring for someone's own body was an important responsibility, so he was sure to be gentle, while that raging storm seemed to crash overhead. </p><p></p><p></p><p>Cord, the dwarven Grumandic monk, bowed his head and spoke a quiet, eloquent prayer to Grumand on behalf of the soul of Wolf Kieresane, the man who lay before them in death. Angelo watched, leaning on the haft of his axe, slightly back from the rest - he had not known this man, though he felt sad that a warrior who had obviously made an enemy of the Red Talons had died, and he felt it only right to let the others be close to the body to pay last respects. At Sebastion's question he could not give a good answer since he had not needed to camp in this area before; though he could understand why they might not have the energy to go on to the monastery now. Then Kale seemed to have made the decision to camp pretty much where they were for the night. </p><p></p><p></p><p>Night grew thick and oppressive over them, a small huddled band of travellers around a fire, the body of a companion lying there nearby and each with their head full of thoughts, some very different to others.</p><p></p><p></p><p>--- </p><p></p><p></p><p>Watches were set, Wolf's pot sat boiling over the fire, and the camp was secured for the evening. Burl sat a ways off studying him tome by candlelight. Creeping shadows moved across his face as Kale approached, crouching for a moment. "You know of easing the journey to the afterlife?" the mercenary asked, not sure what he believed himself. But Burl was the authority on death, and given the encounter with the ghoul-pack just a day ago, Kale thought it fitting to do whatever he could to insure wolf's rest. "I should like you to do what you can, when we get to the monastary... Wolf's body should pass through rigor during the night," Kale mentioned the added convenience. </p><p></p><p></p><p>Stepping over to his cloak, Kale prepared for the evening. Tomorrow would be an unpredictable day. He and his companions would have to be ready, the mercenary concluded, just before he determined that he should get his sleep while he can. Deliberately, he shut his eyes and was soon asleep.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Carnifex, post: 1303084, member: 227"] Another update from me :) Hopefully I'll be able to keep up a good rate of posting. Today's update, we see the aftermath of the death of Wolf, and the reactions by the different members of the band to the traumatic loss of their leader... Wyshira knew in her heart what was coming, almost as soon as her spell wore off and she heard that first strangled cough; but when Wolf's throat finally closed and he gasped his last tortured breath, she could only stare in shocked disbelief as his life slipped away. "He's gone," she whispered numbly. How had it come to this? She had failed, failed, failed.... She had not been skilled enough, had not been vigilant enough, had not been properly prepared to care for the crew. She had let their leader die. Looking away from Wolf's frozen, pain-contorted visage, Wyshira lifted her tear-streaked face to gaze upwards at the darkening sky. * * * The last rattling breath, and the subsequent hushed halting stillness of her companions came to Ebri's ears, some hundred yards up the path, as she scouted for the most efficient route. [i]The matter is decided, then--[/i] she thought, noting at the same time a patch of pau'ti berry by its fragrant, jasmine-cinnamon like smell. Rather appropriately, the fruit was often used in preparations for the dead, to cover the smell of decay. [i]A veil, another cover, to aid in the pretense-- to avoid the uncomfortable reality of death and loss. [/i]Ironically, such delusions never brought the comfort they sought; avoiding reality only kept the mind enslaved, asleep, wandering in its own illusions... [i]And your mind is wandering, as well-- and this line of thought is neither efficient nor useful nor timely--[/i] she brought herself up short, and made quickly for the others and the camp. There was a very narrow window of time, now, for what happened in the next moments would determine the group dynamic for possibly months to come. The mercenary's death would cause a gaping hole in the group's leadership and decision making and direction-- [i]How to direct things best, now?[/i] Her mind cast quickly through the host of options, as she flew down the path. [i]They will turn to Kale, now-- and he will feel himself both honor-bound and justified. The mantle of leadership will fall upon him by his connection to Wolf.[/i] That had both troublesome and useful implications.[i] It would be best to acknowledge his leadership, and direct the course of events as subtly as possible...[/i] It was unlikely, in any event, that they would follow her, nor did she want it-- the scrutiny would hamper her severely. So thinking, she came into the circle of light, garments fluttering with haste. "He is gone, then--" she observed, and let her body take on an appropriately subdued and respectful attitude, as she came to stand at his feet. "Immar bless your feet, Wolf Kieresane, and speed you upon the Road," she murmurred, loudly enough for all to hear, but as if she were praying privately. She then looked directly at Kale. "What would you have us do? Do you know aught of his wishes?" * * * It was Pierre, whom Melisande had asked to contribute a couple more pairs of eyes and ears to scouting ahead, who first noticed no one was following. Mel reined in her mare and looked back, vexed. Didn't they understand there wasn't time to discuss this? But turning back toward the knot of somber people around Wolf she had time to realize what must have happened, and dismounted slowly. Her face had gone pale as a winter sky. So far her adventures with her new friends had been just that: adventures. People had been hurt--including herself--and they had lost Sandslipper to some strange disease, but the whole thing just got a great deal more serious as far as Mel was concerned. Of course since they met Klavius a few days ago her attitude had already changed profoundly; Wolf's death was a sobering confirmation that quests (as opposed to adventures) were deadly serious things. The ranger had been on his own quest apparently, and here was its end: ignoble death by poison in the mountain wilderness on what Wolf probably considered a routine job for some Naserian noble. Did a variation on this theme await every one of her companions? She moved up to peer over Wyshira's shoulder. It felt very strange and final to see Wolf lying so still. Tears were welling up in her eyes, but a foolishly tenacious part of her did not want to accept this. "There are priests who can raise the dead. I've heard so many stories about them. And don't they usually live in places like remote mountain monasteries? If we-- if we--" She heard herself sounding hysterical and covered her mouth to keep any further ranting on the inside. It sounded painful in the face of the real grief some of her companions were experiencing. Realizing this, Mel put a hand on Wyshira's shoulder, with one versatile phrase for many of the feelings of the moment. "I'm sorry." * * * Bowing his head slightly as the death rattle started, Sebastion thought for a moment of what he had learnt from the experienced man. Side by side they'd stood and fought - not a thing you could go through and not learn a little something of each other. Not far off, Burl, seemingly shocked into desperation by the death of Wolf, began frantically demanding that the healers do something, anything, to save the man. Hearing the recriminations start, Sebastion saw that perhaps some people needed reminding of how close they'd become over the last few days. Kale, of course, would be a slower, colder anger than Burl's, just as the Immarian's apparent indifference and flowery words would fuel it. What he'd really learned from Wolf, though, was that being a leader didn't mean telling everyone what to do, but in making them realise they could do it for themselves. Bending down next to the corpse, he reached out to close the weather-worn eyes - surprised for a moment at how difficult that actually was - and pressed a coin into his left palm. "Burl," he said, quietly, looking up, "you know that Wyshira would have done everything she could to save him, just as you or I would." [i]Hopefully they will choose not to pick up on the fact I didn't include Ebri in that declaration... [/i] "He was a mercenary. He chose a life that placed him in harm's way, and accepted that death was a possibility. That's the life we've chosen, now. Let's try to live it like he did - well." "Sir Knight - do you know of anywhere we might camp for the night near here? I don't believe any of us will feel up to travelling." * * * Burl had lashed out. Lashed out with angry words at his closest companion in the band, Wyshira. Now as his grief was subsiding, he stood and walked to the priestess. Putting his arm around her shoulder, Burl quietly spoke to her. “Please forgive me for accusing you of letting Wolf die. It was only my grief that caused me to react to his death as I did. I know for a fact that you would give your life for Wolf to be standing here with us. You did all that was possible under the circumstances. All that is left for us is to continue on living each day in the hope that we will somehow be able to enact revenge upon those responsible for this. Wolf, you and Kale rescued me, possibly saved my life. I owe the three of you everything. I cannot rest until they are made to pay for this.” * * * Kale's face slid as he looked to where Sebastion and the Black Knight sat mounted. He could still hear the frantic sputterings of waning life. In a short moment, one slow, fading breath later, it was all over. Death reflected in the eyes of those who saw- the young mercenary didn't need to look. Taking a slow, deep breath, it felt like he was breathing cotton. Waves of emotion washed over him, only over, as he parted the despair before him. Turning slowly to where Wolf lay, he looked on to a scene that hardly seemed to touch him. Something in Kale's eyes had changed, and as his companions commented around him, the mercenary simply observed the scene as an assigned professional. Burl vowed revenge, Sebastion offered transition and leadership, even Ebri offered a blessing. Wyshira and Melisande sank, but all Kale could see was a crew in need of a good camp for the night. He felt a storm, rumbling somewhere out of view, but it was just the more reason to get the crew situated and safe. There was work to be done. Deliberately, he walked to where Wolf lie, still and sleeping for the first time. Tiny details cemented in his mind- the still curl in his hair, the creeps of bloodstains fading in inches from vibrant red to a cold and crusty brown. The mercenary's chest lay still, while his strong, caloused hands set relaxed and empty at his sides. Kale set his jaw. The details weren't important. His friend, their leader was gone, and the crew would have to get along without. "What would you have us do? Do you know aught of his wishes?" "Nothing changes." Kale said out of place. "We make our way to our objective, after we visit the monastary to secure arrangements for Wolf. But now, we camp here for the night, and make way in the morning." Somehow, it was all very easy. The death of Kale's mentor simply brought about a cause and effect. There was no longer any rush, so why hurry? Besides, there was no reason to risk the horses to a bad step in the dark. Driving on would have been good to keep the company busy rather than dwell on their loss, but camping for the night was the practical decision. Carefully, Kale resecured his mentor for travel. Caring for someone's own body was an important responsibility, so he was sure to be gentle, while that raging storm seemed to crash overhead. Cord, the dwarven Grumandic monk, bowed his head and spoke a quiet, eloquent prayer to Grumand on behalf of the soul of Wolf Kieresane, the man who lay before them in death. Angelo watched, leaning on the haft of his axe, slightly back from the rest - he had not known this man, though he felt sad that a warrior who had obviously made an enemy of the Red Talons had died, and he felt it only right to let the others be close to the body to pay last respects. At Sebastion's question he could not give a good answer since he had not needed to camp in this area before; though he could understand why they might not have the energy to go on to the monastery now. Then Kale seemed to have made the decision to camp pretty much where they were for the night. Night grew thick and oppressive over them, a small huddled band of travellers around a fire, the body of a companion lying there nearby and each with their head full of thoughts, some very different to others. --- Watches were set, Wolf's pot sat boiling over the fire, and the camp was secured for the evening. Burl sat a ways off studying him tome by candlelight. Creeping shadows moved across his face as Kale approached, crouching for a moment. "You know of easing the journey to the afterlife?" the mercenary asked, not sure what he believed himself. But Burl was the authority on death, and given the encounter with the ghoul-pack just a day ago, Kale thought it fitting to do whatever he could to insure wolf's rest. "I should like you to do what you can, when we get to the monastary... Wolf's body should pass through rigor during the night," Kale mentioned the added convenience. Stepping over to his cloak, Kale prepared for the evening. Tomorrow would be an unpredictable day. He and his companions would have to be ready, the mercenary concluded, just before he determined that he should get his sleep while he can. Deliberately, he shut his eyes and was soon asleep. [/QUOTE]
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