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stonegod's Expedition to Castle Ravenloft: Ch. I [IC]
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<blockquote data-quote="DEFCON 1" data-source="post: 3886522" data-attributes="member: 7006"><p>He fell asleep where he knelt in the bushes. Eventually the emotional and spiritual pain he was experiencing overtook him, and Jarrith curled up beneath Ashlyn's blanket, his body oblivious to the hard, cold ground. An uneasy asleep overtook him, as his mind raced on and on and on with only one thought. 'Unclean'.</p><p></p><p>A number of hours later, Tessa gently shook him for the final shift of the watch. He and she were taking the last one before the group started off again, and he awoke with a start. <span style="color: DarkOrange">"Wha-- No-- Khen-- What? Oh... oh... it's you."</span></p><p></p><p>He stood up and kept the blanket wrapped around him and almost sleptwalked his way with Tessa back to the campsite. He found his clothes where they lay, and spend several minutes putting them back on as the others awake prepared to get some last few hours of rest. Jarrith spoke barely little to any of them... his mind elsewhere and his voice distant. Even now, standing fully dressed, he still felt unclean. He felt tainted. Dirty. Wretched. He had always had a dark edge, but that more of an attitudinal thing rather than a blot upon his soul. He mindlessly gathered his equipment and then moved outside the camp circle to begin his watch.</p><p></p><p>*****</p><p></p><p>It did not go well. Out here in the forest, the sounds of nature all around him, the distant howls that may or may not have been wolves... every one of them made him feel more and more alone. And with each passing second, the agoraphobia began to take hold and grow. He felt desperate and angry and hurt and fearful... and every sound made his head snap around, looking for the source. Barovia was a cursed land. They all knew it from the beginning... but they fought against it. Believed it could be cleansed. But the losses of Selase, Daellin, Perriwimple, the halfling... as well as the countless number of townsfolk... did nothing to erase the thoughts in Jarrith's mind that the land was impossible to cleanse. It was either going to soil them, or take them to hell. And he most assuredly was soiled. The Voice was shrinking. Growing more quiet. And there was nothing he could do about it.</p><p></p><p>Or was there?</p><p></p><p>He was dirty and he was tainted... but part of that was because he needed a cleansing that none of the people still with him here could accomplish. Marot was a good soul and a good friend, but had not the spiritual accumen to help him. Lady Ashlyn was certainly one infused with light... but the light of the Host was much different than the Flame. She could not help him. Tessa? Ladreth? He barely knew either of them and could get nothing from them. And Janis? No... nevermind about Janis. She walks her own tainted path with her own troubles... fighting against some invisible ghostly army that destroyed her homeland... the problems she carries with her would only deepen the problems of his own.</p><p></p><p>No... only one person could cleanse him. Only one person knew of his faith, of his desire to do good, of his need to be... more than he is. And that person is currently sitting a silent and lonely vigil on an desolate road to an abandoned castle. Alone. Without his Brother either. They never should have split. It wasn't <em>right</em>. The sum was always much, much more than the parts. And that was it then.</p><p></p><p>Jarrith stood up and glanced back to the camp. He then ducked into the shadow of a tree and began to silently creep over to the horses. Ever-so-slightly he undid the knots holding the horse in place, then began leading it away. When he was finally at a distance where he felt he could mount up... he did so. And began making his way out of the woods... back to the road... back to the village... back to the moutain path... back to his Brother.</p><p></p><p>And he would never leave his Brother's side again.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="DEFCON 1, post: 3886522, member: 7006"] He fell asleep where he knelt in the bushes. Eventually the emotional and spiritual pain he was experiencing overtook him, and Jarrith curled up beneath Ashlyn's blanket, his body oblivious to the hard, cold ground. An uneasy asleep overtook him, as his mind raced on and on and on with only one thought. 'Unclean'. A number of hours later, Tessa gently shook him for the final shift of the watch. He and she were taking the last one before the group started off again, and he awoke with a start. [COLOR=DarkOrange]"Wha-- No-- Khen-- What? Oh... oh... it's you."[/COLOR] He stood up and kept the blanket wrapped around him and almost sleptwalked his way with Tessa back to the campsite. He found his clothes where they lay, and spend several minutes putting them back on as the others awake prepared to get some last few hours of rest. Jarrith spoke barely little to any of them... his mind elsewhere and his voice distant. Even now, standing fully dressed, he still felt unclean. He felt tainted. Dirty. Wretched. He had always had a dark edge, but that more of an attitudinal thing rather than a blot upon his soul. He mindlessly gathered his equipment and then moved outside the camp circle to begin his watch. ***** It did not go well. Out here in the forest, the sounds of nature all around him, the distant howls that may or may not have been wolves... every one of them made him feel more and more alone. And with each passing second, the agoraphobia began to take hold and grow. He felt desperate and angry and hurt and fearful... and every sound made his head snap around, looking for the source. Barovia was a cursed land. They all knew it from the beginning... but they fought against it. Believed it could be cleansed. But the losses of Selase, Daellin, Perriwimple, the halfling... as well as the countless number of townsfolk... did nothing to erase the thoughts in Jarrith's mind that the land was impossible to cleanse. It was either going to soil them, or take them to hell. And he most assuredly was soiled. The Voice was shrinking. Growing more quiet. And there was nothing he could do about it. Or was there? He was dirty and he was tainted... but part of that was because he needed a cleansing that none of the people still with him here could accomplish. Marot was a good soul and a good friend, but had not the spiritual accumen to help him. Lady Ashlyn was certainly one infused with light... but the light of the Host was much different than the Flame. She could not help him. Tessa? Ladreth? He barely knew either of them and could get nothing from them. And Janis? No... nevermind about Janis. She walks her own tainted path with her own troubles... fighting against some invisible ghostly army that destroyed her homeland... the problems she carries with her would only deepen the problems of his own. No... only one person could cleanse him. Only one person knew of his faith, of his desire to do good, of his need to be... more than he is. And that person is currently sitting a silent and lonely vigil on an desolate road to an abandoned castle. Alone. Without his Brother either. They never should have split. It wasn't [I]right[/I]. The sum was always much, much more than the parts. And that was it then. Jarrith stood up and glanced back to the camp. He then ducked into the shadow of a tree and began to silently creep over to the horses. Ever-so-slightly he undid the knots holding the horse in place, then began leading it away. When he was finally at a distance where he felt he could mount up... he did so. And began making his way out of the woods... back to the road... back to the village... back to the moutain path... back to his Brother. And he would never leave his Brother's side again. [/QUOTE]
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