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Steel Dragon's "Tales of Orea"
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<blockquote data-quote="steeldragons" data-source="post: 6240555" data-attributes="member: 92511"><p>Braddok bolted upright as darkness gave way to light before his eyes.</p><p></p><p>“DEMON!” the Grinlian swordsman shouted and instinctively reached for his blade...which wasn’t there.</p><p></p><p>He looked down at his hip in surprise. Only then he noticed he wasn’t on a cold stone floor in a shadow filled cellar. He had no armor nor weapons. He was...naked?...on a cot?...Only a soft white linen sheet edged in a pattern of blue embroidered cresting waves covered him from the waist down. He was in a softly lit room with several other cots...with bodies on them! There was Duor and Haelan and...Alaria!</p><p></p><p>He went to rouse himself from the bed. A shooting pain in his leg stopped him before feeling a soft hand on his bare shoulder. He turned in surprise to see Fen, hooded and draped in his druid’s cloak which had taken on a decidedly bluish sheen to the grey-green it usually was.</p><p></p><p>The half-elf smiled gently at him with kind green eyes. “Be still, my friend. You have much mending to do yet.” the druid said softly.</p><p></p><p>“Fen? What happened?! Where are...” he now saw, beyond the half-elf, the attending healers looking at him strangely. The warrior relaxed back into his cot to see they wore the robes that began with a deep blue at the shoulder, fading and changing about midway to shades of green of the order of Tyris, the sea goddess. “We’re...Shoal? How...”</p><p></p><p>“Yes, Braddok. We are in the temple of Tyris in Shoal. Rest now.” Fen said, again with gentle softness the swordsman had rarely heard.</p><p></p><p>“But Alaria...” he began to protest. Gods his leg did ache and his mind was heavy with exhaustion.</p><p></p><p>“She is fine, champion. Well, fine for <em>her.</em>” Fen said. He looked to Alaria’s cot with a bit of concern.</p><p></p><p>“What does that mean?!” Braddok said, somewhat disheartened by the comment.</p><p></p><p>“We believe she is again in the spell-sleep.” Fen said. He again smiled at the warrior with a tested believability. “The healers have done what they can. Now we must wait, as before. She will rouse when her mind and body are ready.”</p><p></p><p>"Before...?" I don't understand.</p><p></p><p>"Ah...right. I will explain later. Now, rest." the druid answered.</p><p></p><p>Braddok settled back into his pillow. “What about the others?”</p><p></p><p>“Duor and Haelan shall recover. They live, by the merciful graces of the sea goddess of Men, and rest comfortably...as you must.” the druid explained.</p><p></p><p>“And Pyrnion? Jovias?” Braddok asked though fatigue was certainly creepign up on him again.</p><p></p><p>“Pyrnion is out. He was tended and recovered the best. You know he is not content in confined spaces. But he is around...familiarizing himself with the area and keeping watch for any strange goings on or pursuit from Gorathgraard.” Fen answered him softly.</p><p></p><p>“Pursuit...?” Braddok prodded.</p><p></p><p>“We fled with three demons on ours heels. One was of a magnitude of dark power I had not known existed.</p><p></p><p>“I have little doubt they search, even now, for our whereabouts. I believe we have some time. Our cunning magess brought us here instead of returning us to Daenfrii, I believe, for just such a reason...to throw off any pursuit. Buy us a bit of time.” </p><p></p><p>Braddok nodded and exhaled. “And brought us within striking distance of Dragonbone Isle.”</p><p></p><p>“Just so.” Fen replied.</p><p></p><p>”What of...where are...” Braddok asked, looking at the beds confused. Shouldn’t there be more of them?</p><p></p><p>“The satyr and...I am sorry to say, Buttercream are dead.” the druid answered matter-of-factly. He knew that a warrior of Braddok’s experience had no need of honey-coated words to speak about fallen comrades. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh gods. Haelan will be devastated.” Braddok said.</p><p></p><p>“He was. He rose a few hours ago and sobbed himself back into sleep. He is strong for a daelvar, Braddok. He will survive.” Fen said, again with a detached matter-of-fact-ness with which he sometimes spoke.</p><p></p><p>The acceptance of death of the druid sometimes alarmed Braddok. Part of the whole “balance” or “cycle of life” or some such, the warrior knew. But it still came off chilly when expressed. There was definitely a quality...not “uncaring”, certainly, but a coolness to Fen since Erevan’s death, the swordsman thought. Now they had visited the lair of the dragon again...and again had come away with losses.</p><p></p><p>“So how do we proceed?” the swordsman asked, even as his head sunk back into the pillow.</p><p></p><p>“You proceed by resting and healing, my friend. Nothing else matters at the moment. We need you, Braddok. And we will need you at full strength...she will need you thus, as well.” he grinned.</p><p></p><p>“Yes. Of course. You are wise, my friend. I am glad that we are both still of this world.”</p><p></p><p>“And I, Braddok. Rest, now.” the druid managed to reply before the dark-haired Grinlian slumped back into sleep.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="steeldragons, post: 6240555, member: 92511"] Braddok bolted upright as darkness gave way to light before his eyes. “DEMON!” the Grinlian swordsman shouted and instinctively reached for his blade...which wasn’t there. He looked down at his hip in surprise. Only then he noticed he wasn’t on a cold stone floor in a shadow filled cellar. He had no armor nor weapons. He was...naked?...on a cot?...Only a soft white linen sheet edged in a pattern of blue embroidered cresting waves covered him from the waist down. He was in a softly lit room with several other cots...with bodies on them! There was Duor and Haelan and...Alaria! He went to rouse himself from the bed. A shooting pain in his leg stopped him before feeling a soft hand on his bare shoulder. He turned in surprise to see Fen, hooded and draped in his druid’s cloak which had taken on a decidedly bluish sheen to the grey-green it usually was. The half-elf smiled gently at him with kind green eyes. “Be still, my friend. You have much mending to do yet.” the druid said softly. “Fen? What happened?! Where are...” he now saw, beyond the half-elf, the attending healers looking at him strangely. The warrior relaxed back into his cot to see they wore the robes that began with a deep blue at the shoulder, fading and changing about midway to shades of green of the order of Tyris, the sea goddess. “We’re...Shoal? How...” “Yes, Braddok. We are in the temple of Tyris in Shoal. Rest now.” Fen said, again with gentle softness the swordsman had rarely heard. “But Alaria...” he began to protest. Gods his leg did ache and his mind was heavy with exhaustion. “She is fine, champion. Well, fine for [I]her.[/I]” Fen said. He looked to Alaria’s cot with a bit of concern. “What does that mean?!” Braddok said, somewhat disheartened by the comment. “We believe she is again in the spell-sleep.” Fen said. He again smiled at the warrior with a tested believability. “The healers have done what they can. Now we must wait, as before. She will rouse when her mind and body are ready.” "Before...?" I don't understand. "Ah...right. I will explain later. Now, rest." the druid answered. Braddok settled back into his pillow. “What about the others?” “Duor and Haelan shall recover. They live, by the merciful graces of the sea goddess of Men, and rest comfortably...as you must.” the druid explained. “And Pyrnion? Jovias?” Braddok asked though fatigue was certainly creepign up on him again. “Pyrnion is out. He was tended and recovered the best. You know he is not content in confined spaces. But he is around...familiarizing himself with the area and keeping watch for any strange goings on or pursuit from Gorathgraard.” Fen answered him softly. “Pursuit...?” Braddok prodded. “We fled with three demons on ours heels. One was of a magnitude of dark power I had not known existed. “I have little doubt they search, even now, for our whereabouts. I believe we have some time. Our cunning magess brought us here instead of returning us to Daenfrii, I believe, for just such a reason...to throw off any pursuit. Buy us a bit of time.” Braddok nodded and exhaled. “And brought us within striking distance of Dragonbone Isle.” “Just so.” Fen replied. ”What of...where are...” Braddok asked, looking at the beds confused. Shouldn’t there be more of them? “The satyr and...I am sorry to say, Buttercream are dead.” the druid answered matter-of-factly. He knew that a warrior of Braddok’s experience had no need of honey-coated words to speak about fallen comrades. “Oh gods. Haelan will be devastated.” Braddok said. “He was. He rose a few hours ago and sobbed himself back into sleep. He is strong for a daelvar, Braddok. He will survive.” Fen said, again with a detached matter-of-fact-ness with which he sometimes spoke. The acceptance of death of the druid sometimes alarmed Braddok. Part of the whole “balance” or “cycle of life” or some such, the warrior knew. But it still came off chilly when expressed. There was definitely a quality...not “uncaring”, certainly, but a coolness to Fen since Erevan’s death, the swordsman thought. Now they had visited the lair of the dragon again...and again had come away with losses. “So how do we proceed?” the swordsman asked, even as his head sunk back into the pillow. “You proceed by resting and healing, my friend. Nothing else matters at the moment. We need you, Braddok. And we will need you at full strength...she will need you thus, as well.” he grinned. “Yes. Of course. You are wise, my friend. I am glad that we are both still of this world.” “And I, Braddok. Rest, now.” the druid managed to reply before the dark-haired Grinlian slumped back into sleep. [/QUOTE]
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