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<blockquote data-quote="Canaan" data-source="post: 4398829" data-attributes="member: 40239"><p><strong>Chapter 41: Homecomings</strong></p><p></p><p>Several weeks have passed since I last wrote and much has happened in that time. Lilian apparently remembered nothing of the time after her death or the means of her return to us. She continues to believe it was by Canaan’s will that she was returned to us. So be it. I am just overjoyed to have her back, by whatever means that was made possible. Though, I did maintain a healthy kernel of doubt in the back of my mind that there would be some unknown price to pay for the beneficence of the creature that returned her to us, and an equally healthy kernel of concern that Lilian would not be quite right now that she had been dead and returned by such unorthodox means. I kept both my doubt and concern to myself, because, well, it’s what I do.</p><p></p><p>Hu Li practically ignored me, refusing to communicate directly with me, taking instead to enlisting the aid of the others when he absolutely needed to speak with me, despite the fact that I was present. It was in this manner that Hu Li eagerly announced that he would stay at Balian’s tower since the ancient wizard was gone. We were all eating dinner one night—a succulent glazed duck served as the main course—when Hu Li made his announcement. “Shallahai, please tell the priest that I shall remain in the tower. I find its dankness and seclusion much more palatable than traveling with His Hoity Toity Holiness, the Banisher of the Eyeless Hollow Ones. Besides, there is much here I must do.” he shrieked as he plunged his yellowed teeth into a juicy duck leg, spurting juice across the table. There was a greedy glint in his eye. </p><p></p><p>Shallahai rolled his eyes and scowled. “Tell him yourself, you childish oaf!” The druid had no patience for the mage’s antics.</p><p></p><p>I had visions of the upstart mage ransacking the place for Balian’s secret cache of magical power. But I no longer cared what became of the selfish wizard. Let him stay in that tower and rot. </p><p></p><p>Addressing Rin, Hu Li then announced that he would be claiming possession of Orolde as well. “Rin, please be so kind as to inform the priest that I now own Orolde by virtue of intestate succession. Balian is missing and presumed dead. He does not have an obvious will. Orolde was his servant. The creature is now mine. If the priest objects, please tell him to write his objection on a piece of parchment and I will promptly lodge it in my bunghole.”</p><p></p><p>I, of course, protested. I found the idea of slavery appalling. Orolde was a living, sentient creature, not some chattel to be bought, sold or escheated. But obstinacy and lack of compassion, being staples of Hu Li’s personality, won out and my arguments fell on deaf ears. In the end, it was Orolde, however, who silenced my protestations.</p><p></p><p>“It is as the Master wishes.” Orolde said, staring at me as if trying to convey some secret message.</p><p></p><p>“Yes. Your Master wishes it!” Hu Li screeched, oblivious to the secret message in Orolde’s words.</p><p></p><p>Of course! That clever wizard! Balian worked something out in advance, knowing that Hu Li would seek to take advantage in the event Balian was gone. Balian was an ancient and wise Archmage. Surely he would have someone he trusted implicitly tend to his affairs in his absence. Perhaps Orolde’s relationship with the Archmage was deeper than I had initially thought. Balian never ceases to amaze me.</p><p></p><p>I nodded my head. “Very well, then.” I stated. And the matter was over.</p><p></p><p>Against my better judgment, we stayed a week or so to help Hu Li and Orolde get the disheveled tower back in order and to dispatch any remaining critters from the realm of insanity who sought refuge in the dark and dank places of Balian’s abode. When we had finished, we were more than ready to move on with our lives. I had had about enough as any mortal could take of Hu Li during that time. I don’t know how Orolde will put up with it when we are gone. The affects of the dimensional bleeding had long since disappeared from the countryside. It was as if nothing had ever been amiss.</p><p></p><p>Shallahai left a few days before we did, mumbling something about Hu Li not being worthy of the air he consumes in his breathing and the world being better off without such a waste of resources. Before he left, however, he told us he would meet us just outside of Goldfire Glen in two days’ time. He said he wanted to speak with Master Baern about what had happened here and thought it best to do so alone. </p><p></p><p>* * * *</p><p></p><p>By the time I write this, I have hardened my resolve to fight against the increasingly self-destructive teachings of orthodox Canaanism. If it were not for our intercession, all of the gentle Green-worshipping peoples of Goldfire Glen would have been sacrificed to fuel the self-loathing religious zeal of Father Zeigfried. But I am getting ahead of myself.</p><p></p><p>As promised, Shallahai met us outside of Goldfire Glen. He brought dire news of the murder of a Faean prince, the son of some entity called, The Autumn Queen. Despite his dire news, the druid seemed well rested and more comfortable with his surroundings.</p><p></p><p>“I heard weeping off of the trail on my way back from my visit with Master Baern, so I stopped to investigate.” Shallahai explained.</p><p></p><p>“It was Peasblossom. He and several other pixies were flitting around the corpse of Raelanthas, the Autumn Prince. The pixies didn’t recognize me at first and attacked. I removed my cowl and called on The Green to calm them. They came out of their enraged state and began crying at my feet.” Shallahai explained.</p><p></p><p>“What manner of royalty is The Autumn Prince?” Lilian asked. “I don’t recognize that title among the nobility of Turgos.”</p><p></p><p>“That is because it is no mortal title, my friend.” Shallahai responded. The Autumn Queen is one of the four Faean that rule the Faean Court in the Land of Fae Rie.”</p><p></p><p>Lilian looked thoughtful as if trying to place the Land of Fae Rie in her mind.</p><p></p><p>“The Land of Fae Rie does not appear on any map. Or perhaps more appropriately, it is on every map.” Shallahai explained with a childish grin.</p><p></p><p>Lilian was utterly confused.</p><p></p><p>“Fae Rie is a dimension that exists co-terminus with Turgos. A veil separates the Land of Fae Rie from ours, but the landscape is the same. No buildings or villages or towns or cities, as Turgosians know them, exist in Fae Rie. Rather, vast glades and glens and tree forests form the towns and cities of Fae Rie, where pixies paint the trees the nymphs populate the lakes and rivers and satyrs and fawns play and copulate. Fae Rie is The Green’s reflection of Turgos.” Shallahai explained.</p><p></p><p>“The Faean Court is responsible for maintaining the seasons and cycles of Turgos. Each Faean, each creature of Fae Rie, has a role to play in the changing of the seasons. Peasblossom, whom you’ve met, for example, is responsible for making the peas blossom in the spring. He does this by telling them little pixie jokes until they cannot contain themselves any longer and burst open with laughter.” Shallahai continued.</p><p></p><p>“Well, what does it mean that the Autumn Prince has been murdered?” I asked.</p><p></p><p>“Another will take his place, for sure.” Shallahai responded. “But The Autumn Queen will be quite angry, as it looks like her son may have been killed by a mortal.”</p><p></p><p>“A mortal? Who would do such a thing?” I asked. “Surely no common man would do that, perhaps it was one of the Orcus-worshippers or Kharas Voorhies’s minions.” </p><p></p><p>Shallahai’s face darkened. “Regardless of which mortal did it or what that mortal’s motivations were, these are difficult times and word of intolerance in Turgos toward The Green has made its way to the Autumn Queen’s ear. It is entirely possible that she will view this event as the last straw and lead a war against Turgos.” </p><p></p><p>“How do you know this, Shallahai?” Talon asked.</p><p></p><p>“I have spoken with the pixies and learned much of what has been happening. I do not believe Goldfire Glen will welcome one such as me.” The druid looked then at Rin and gestured to the Darksider. “Or him.”</p><p></p><p>“We will, of course, do what we can to solve this murder. Perhaps the Queen will be appeased by the arrest and imprisonment of the mortal that killed her son.” Lillian offered.</p><p></p><p>“I’m afraid you don’t know the Fae very well, Lilian.” Shallahai said, ominously.</p><p></p><p>“Is there any chance that Raelanthas’s murderer was not a mortal?” Rin asked.</p><p></p><p>“It is possible.” Shallahai responded. “I found some curious clues when I investigated the area where his body was found.” But the druid didn’t seem convinced. “We need to get to Goldfire Glen.” </p><p></p><p>* * * *</p><p></p><p>We returned to Goldfire Glen weary. It turned out that none of them had any idea of the crisis that had just been averted, that they had come within a hair’s breadth of sinking into a realm of insanity. But had you, the reader, not known the fate that could have been theirs, you would think, based on the scene we witnessed upon entering town, that that fate had indeed come to pass; such was the insanity we came upon. </p><p></p><p>In preparation for our homecoming, we of course, disguised Rin. Returning to town with a demon in tow would not have been advisable in even the best of times, and these were certainly not those. Rin entered town disguised as a new initiate in Talon’s order, complete with brown robe, gloves, boots and deep hood. We, likewise, disguised Shallahai. So Talon had two ‘apprentices’ in tow when he arrived. To further minimize the risk of exposure, we decided to enter the village just before dawn.</p><p></p><p>The Evenflow River, with its crystal clear waters, ran sedately through a verdant meadow, dividing the edge of the plain from the small village of Goldfire Glen lying across the span of a wide stone bridge. Even in the early moments just before dawn, there was movement on the outskirts of the village, townsfolk awake and starting their daily chores. Over the cool northern breeze, we could make out the sounds of cattle in the distance; the livestock also awakening as a number of roosters threw back their heads and began a chorus to welcome the sun.</p><p></p><p>Oddly, in the center of town, a crowd gathered around a charismatic figure, giving an impassioned speech. It was Father Zeigfried. He was standing on the outer rim of the ancient marble fountain that adorned the center of town. The fountain’s main feature was a giant white statue of the Angel Cilestriel, said to be a messenger from Canaan who came to the people of Goldfire Glen long ago in a time of darkness and despair and gave them hope. Age and the elements had not dulled the statue’s beauty. It was carved by Goldfire Glen’s greatest artisan of the time, Lucien Vannos. His descendents are said to still reside in Goldfire Glen, practicing the family trade.</p><p></p><p>The beauty and tranquility of the fountain laid in stark contrast to the ugliness that spewed from Father Zeigfried’s mouth. He stood on the rim of the fountain, flanked by two Justicars. His lips were turned down into a condescending scowl that eyed the crowd with the indignation of a disappointed parent. He was a short, thin man with a long sallow face, but the height advantage granted by his perch gave him the illusion of greater presence and allowed his harsh grating voice to carry above the gathered crowd.</p><p></p><p>I scanned the crowd. In their eyes was a mixture of fear and anger at Father Zeigfried’s words.</p><p> </p><p>“Hear me!” shouted the white-robed priest of Canaan. “I told you this would happen! I warned you that the faean could not be trusted.” He held up a scroll, waving it over his head as his other hand waved to encompass the rest of the villagers. “It is written in the sacred texts, ‘Trust thee not the wiles of the wicked ones, for their tongues speaketh only of deception. Their lies shall lead thee directly into the pits of darkness, for death can be the only reward for those who would listen to their words’.”</p><p></p><p>The villagers all responded with a shout of agreement, raising their own hands overhead as they echo his words. Father Zeigfried turned, his finger shooting out to indicate a hut in the distance, around which were posted Justicars brandishing both gleaming weapons and blazing torches.</p><p></p><p>“Tonight, we found the bodies of a family… our friends… who have been ruthlessly slaughtered in their sleep.” I shared a quick look with the druid, seeing the color drain from his face. Could this be what he feared, why he knew we needed to get to Goldfire Glen as quickly as possible?</p><p></p><p>“Our neighbors, who worked with us in the fields, are dead at the hands of the FAEAN!” Zeigfried punctuated his words by once more throwing his hands to the heavens and turning back towards the gathered villagers, “The wicked ones have returned, and it is our sacred duty to drive them from our homes, our hearts and our souls once and forever!”</p><p></p><p>Shallahai’s face darkened dangerously. He looked like a madman about to attack Zeigfried. But just as it seemed Father Zeigfried was about to lead the villagers directly toward the guarded hut, an imposing figure stepped from inside the hut, heading purposefully towards the gathering. Wearing a golden cloak thrown over his left shoulder, the shining fabric visible even in the dim light, he approached purposefully, raising his voice to be heard over the shouting, “Zeigfried, that’s enough! There is nothing to be gained by this right now. All the rest of you, go back to your homes, let the guard take care of this.”</p><p></p><p>“Captain Tiberon, the people have a right to know what is going on,” the young priest replied angrily, but he was interrupted by yet another voice.</p><p></p><p>“Tiberon, Zeigfried, both of you, stop it.” A third figure emerged into the village center, the villagers clearing a path for the nobleman. Around his neck was a medallion bearing the symbol of one of the noble houses of Turgos. It was Lord Derren Underhill, baron of Goldfire Glen. Pale eyes turned first from the priest to the guard captain and back again, “This is not helping anyone.” That same gaze was turned upon the villagers, who suddenly seemed to find the ground extremely interesting as they ruefully shuffled their feet. “Go home, everyone, it’s almost dawn and time to get to work. We cannot allow this … atrocity… to interrupt our daily routines. Let the guard take care of what needs to be done, please.</p><p></p><p>At the baron’s words, the villagers began to disperse, casting looks back towards the guard captain or the priest before disappearing into their own homes. Just then, the old man’s pale eyes fell on us, a curious glint was in his eye, as he regarded us fully. Father Zeigfried and Captain Tiberon noticed the barren’s gaze, following it to us.</p><p></p><p>“Lady Lillian,” The baron began with a gracious bow. “It seems you have come back to us at a difficult time.” He continued, gesturing to the hut and the captain and the priest in one fluid motion.</p><p></p><p>The baron’s gaze turned to me, then. “Ah, and Father Evora, what a pleasant surprise.” The glint in the baron’s eye remained. Father Zeigfried spat on the ground.</p><p></p><p>“We could use Canaan’s guidance in these trying times. He has obviously chosen this time to send one of His chosen, and her personal confessor, to guide us through these troubled times.”</p><p></p><p>I looked down at the fountain’s inscription as the crowd dispersed. It read:</p><p></p><p><em><p style="text-align: center">And in humanity’s darkest hour, amidst fear and violence,</p></em></p><p style="text-align: center"><em>Canaan shall send his emissary from the heaven’s above</p></em></p><p style="text-align: center"><em>And save mankind from the oppression of its own intolerance.</p><p></em></p><p>My course was clear. My purpose, revealed. I would not abandon the people of Goldfire Glen. I would not rest until the peace and tranquility of Goldfire Glen was restored. I looked at Lord Underhill and responded. “Yes, my lord. We will, of course, do what is required to put this matter to rest and, if appropriate, dispel any notion that it is the doing of the Faean.”</p><p></p><p>Father Zeigfried turned on his heel in a huff and proceeded to the castle with his two attendant Justicars in tow. </p><p></p><p>Captain Tiberon breathed a sigh of relief.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Canaan, post: 4398829, member: 40239"] [b]Chapter 41: Homecomings[/b] Several weeks have passed since I last wrote and much has happened in that time. Lilian apparently remembered nothing of the time after her death or the means of her return to us. She continues to believe it was by Canaan’s will that she was returned to us. So be it. I am just overjoyed to have her back, by whatever means that was made possible. Though, I did maintain a healthy kernel of doubt in the back of my mind that there would be some unknown price to pay for the beneficence of the creature that returned her to us, and an equally healthy kernel of concern that Lilian would not be quite right now that she had been dead and returned by such unorthodox means. I kept both my doubt and concern to myself, because, well, it’s what I do. Hu Li practically ignored me, refusing to communicate directly with me, taking instead to enlisting the aid of the others when he absolutely needed to speak with me, despite the fact that I was present. It was in this manner that Hu Li eagerly announced that he would stay at Balian’s tower since the ancient wizard was gone. We were all eating dinner one night—a succulent glazed duck served as the main course—when Hu Li made his announcement. “Shallahai, please tell the priest that I shall remain in the tower. I find its dankness and seclusion much more palatable than traveling with His Hoity Toity Holiness, the Banisher of the Eyeless Hollow Ones. Besides, there is much here I must do.” he shrieked as he plunged his yellowed teeth into a juicy duck leg, spurting juice across the table. There was a greedy glint in his eye. Shallahai rolled his eyes and scowled. “Tell him yourself, you childish oaf!” The druid had no patience for the mage’s antics. I had visions of the upstart mage ransacking the place for Balian’s secret cache of magical power. But I no longer cared what became of the selfish wizard. Let him stay in that tower and rot. Addressing Rin, Hu Li then announced that he would be claiming possession of Orolde as well. “Rin, please be so kind as to inform the priest that I now own Orolde by virtue of intestate succession. Balian is missing and presumed dead. He does not have an obvious will. Orolde was his servant. The creature is now mine. If the priest objects, please tell him to write his objection on a piece of parchment and I will promptly lodge it in my bunghole.” I, of course, protested. I found the idea of slavery appalling. Orolde was a living, sentient creature, not some chattel to be bought, sold or escheated. But obstinacy and lack of compassion, being staples of Hu Li’s personality, won out and my arguments fell on deaf ears. In the end, it was Orolde, however, who silenced my protestations. “It is as the Master wishes.” Orolde said, staring at me as if trying to convey some secret message. “Yes. Your Master wishes it!” Hu Li screeched, oblivious to the secret message in Orolde’s words. Of course! That clever wizard! Balian worked something out in advance, knowing that Hu Li would seek to take advantage in the event Balian was gone. Balian was an ancient and wise Archmage. Surely he would have someone he trusted implicitly tend to his affairs in his absence. Perhaps Orolde’s relationship with the Archmage was deeper than I had initially thought. Balian never ceases to amaze me. I nodded my head. “Very well, then.” I stated. And the matter was over. Against my better judgment, we stayed a week or so to help Hu Li and Orolde get the disheveled tower back in order and to dispatch any remaining critters from the realm of insanity who sought refuge in the dark and dank places of Balian’s abode. When we had finished, we were more than ready to move on with our lives. I had had about enough as any mortal could take of Hu Li during that time. I don’t know how Orolde will put up with it when we are gone. The affects of the dimensional bleeding had long since disappeared from the countryside. It was as if nothing had ever been amiss. Shallahai left a few days before we did, mumbling something about Hu Li not being worthy of the air he consumes in his breathing and the world being better off without such a waste of resources. Before he left, however, he told us he would meet us just outside of Goldfire Glen in two days’ time. He said he wanted to speak with Master Baern about what had happened here and thought it best to do so alone. * * * * By the time I write this, I have hardened my resolve to fight against the increasingly self-destructive teachings of orthodox Canaanism. If it were not for our intercession, all of the gentle Green-worshipping peoples of Goldfire Glen would have been sacrificed to fuel the self-loathing religious zeal of Father Zeigfried. But I am getting ahead of myself. As promised, Shallahai met us outside of Goldfire Glen. He brought dire news of the murder of a Faean prince, the son of some entity called, The Autumn Queen. Despite his dire news, the druid seemed well rested and more comfortable with his surroundings. “I heard weeping off of the trail on my way back from my visit with Master Baern, so I stopped to investigate.” Shallahai explained. “It was Peasblossom. He and several other pixies were flitting around the corpse of Raelanthas, the Autumn Prince. The pixies didn’t recognize me at first and attacked. I removed my cowl and called on The Green to calm them. They came out of their enraged state and began crying at my feet.” Shallahai explained. “What manner of royalty is The Autumn Prince?” Lilian asked. “I don’t recognize that title among the nobility of Turgos.” “That is because it is no mortal title, my friend.” Shallahai responded. The Autumn Queen is one of the four Faean that rule the Faean Court in the Land of Fae Rie.” Lilian looked thoughtful as if trying to place the Land of Fae Rie in her mind. “The Land of Fae Rie does not appear on any map. Or perhaps more appropriately, it is on every map.” Shallahai explained with a childish grin. Lilian was utterly confused. “Fae Rie is a dimension that exists co-terminus with Turgos. A veil separates the Land of Fae Rie from ours, but the landscape is the same. No buildings or villages or towns or cities, as Turgosians know them, exist in Fae Rie. Rather, vast glades and glens and tree forests form the towns and cities of Fae Rie, where pixies paint the trees the nymphs populate the lakes and rivers and satyrs and fawns play and copulate. Fae Rie is The Green’s reflection of Turgos.” Shallahai explained. “The Faean Court is responsible for maintaining the seasons and cycles of Turgos. Each Faean, each creature of Fae Rie, has a role to play in the changing of the seasons. Peasblossom, whom you’ve met, for example, is responsible for making the peas blossom in the spring. He does this by telling them little pixie jokes until they cannot contain themselves any longer and burst open with laughter.” Shallahai continued. “Well, what does it mean that the Autumn Prince has been murdered?” I asked. “Another will take his place, for sure.” Shallahai responded. “But The Autumn Queen will be quite angry, as it looks like her son may have been killed by a mortal.” “A mortal? Who would do such a thing?” I asked. “Surely no common man would do that, perhaps it was one of the Orcus-worshippers or Kharas Voorhies’s minions.” Shallahai’s face darkened. “Regardless of which mortal did it or what that mortal’s motivations were, these are difficult times and word of intolerance in Turgos toward The Green has made its way to the Autumn Queen’s ear. It is entirely possible that she will view this event as the last straw and lead a war against Turgos.” “How do you know this, Shallahai?” Talon asked. “I have spoken with the pixies and learned much of what has been happening. I do not believe Goldfire Glen will welcome one such as me.” The druid looked then at Rin and gestured to the Darksider. “Or him.” “We will, of course, do what we can to solve this murder. Perhaps the Queen will be appeased by the arrest and imprisonment of the mortal that killed her son.” Lillian offered. “I’m afraid you don’t know the Fae very well, Lilian.” Shallahai said, ominously. “Is there any chance that Raelanthas’s murderer was not a mortal?” Rin asked. “It is possible.” Shallahai responded. “I found some curious clues when I investigated the area where his body was found.” But the druid didn’t seem convinced. “We need to get to Goldfire Glen.” * * * * We returned to Goldfire Glen weary. It turned out that none of them had any idea of the crisis that had just been averted, that they had come within a hair’s breadth of sinking into a realm of insanity. But had you, the reader, not known the fate that could have been theirs, you would think, based on the scene we witnessed upon entering town, that that fate had indeed come to pass; such was the insanity we came upon. In preparation for our homecoming, we of course, disguised Rin. Returning to town with a demon in tow would not have been advisable in even the best of times, and these were certainly not those. Rin entered town disguised as a new initiate in Talon’s order, complete with brown robe, gloves, boots and deep hood. We, likewise, disguised Shallahai. So Talon had two ‘apprentices’ in tow when he arrived. To further minimize the risk of exposure, we decided to enter the village just before dawn. The Evenflow River, with its crystal clear waters, ran sedately through a verdant meadow, dividing the edge of the plain from the small village of Goldfire Glen lying across the span of a wide stone bridge. Even in the early moments just before dawn, there was movement on the outskirts of the village, townsfolk awake and starting their daily chores. Over the cool northern breeze, we could make out the sounds of cattle in the distance; the livestock also awakening as a number of roosters threw back their heads and began a chorus to welcome the sun. Oddly, in the center of town, a crowd gathered around a charismatic figure, giving an impassioned speech. It was Father Zeigfried. He was standing on the outer rim of the ancient marble fountain that adorned the center of town. The fountain’s main feature was a giant white statue of the Angel Cilestriel, said to be a messenger from Canaan who came to the people of Goldfire Glen long ago in a time of darkness and despair and gave them hope. Age and the elements had not dulled the statue’s beauty. It was carved by Goldfire Glen’s greatest artisan of the time, Lucien Vannos. His descendents are said to still reside in Goldfire Glen, practicing the family trade. The beauty and tranquility of the fountain laid in stark contrast to the ugliness that spewed from Father Zeigfried’s mouth. He stood on the rim of the fountain, flanked by two Justicars. His lips were turned down into a condescending scowl that eyed the crowd with the indignation of a disappointed parent. He was a short, thin man with a long sallow face, but the height advantage granted by his perch gave him the illusion of greater presence and allowed his harsh grating voice to carry above the gathered crowd. I scanned the crowd. In their eyes was a mixture of fear and anger at Father Zeigfried’s words. “Hear me!” shouted the white-robed priest of Canaan. “I told you this would happen! I warned you that the faean could not be trusted.” He held up a scroll, waving it over his head as his other hand waved to encompass the rest of the villagers. “It is written in the sacred texts, ‘Trust thee not the wiles of the wicked ones, for their tongues speaketh only of deception. Their lies shall lead thee directly into the pits of darkness, for death can be the only reward for those who would listen to their words’.” The villagers all responded with a shout of agreement, raising their own hands overhead as they echo his words. Father Zeigfried turned, his finger shooting out to indicate a hut in the distance, around which were posted Justicars brandishing both gleaming weapons and blazing torches. “Tonight, we found the bodies of a family… our friends… who have been ruthlessly slaughtered in their sleep.” I shared a quick look with the druid, seeing the color drain from his face. Could this be what he feared, why he knew we needed to get to Goldfire Glen as quickly as possible? “Our neighbors, who worked with us in the fields, are dead at the hands of the FAEAN!” Zeigfried punctuated his words by once more throwing his hands to the heavens and turning back towards the gathered villagers, “The wicked ones have returned, and it is our sacred duty to drive them from our homes, our hearts and our souls once and forever!” Shallahai’s face darkened dangerously. He looked like a madman about to attack Zeigfried. But just as it seemed Father Zeigfried was about to lead the villagers directly toward the guarded hut, an imposing figure stepped from inside the hut, heading purposefully towards the gathering. Wearing a golden cloak thrown over his left shoulder, the shining fabric visible even in the dim light, he approached purposefully, raising his voice to be heard over the shouting, “Zeigfried, that’s enough! There is nothing to be gained by this right now. All the rest of you, go back to your homes, let the guard take care of this.” “Captain Tiberon, the people have a right to know what is going on,” the young priest replied angrily, but he was interrupted by yet another voice. “Tiberon, Zeigfried, both of you, stop it.” A third figure emerged into the village center, the villagers clearing a path for the nobleman. Around his neck was a medallion bearing the symbol of one of the noble houses of Turgos. It was Lord Derren Underhill, baron of Goldfire Glen. Pale eyes turned first from the priest to the guard captain and back again, “This is not helping anyone.” That same gaze was turned upon the villagers, who suddenly seemed to find the ground extremely interesting as they ruefully shuffled their feet. “Go home, everyone, it’s almost dawn and time to get to work. We cannot allow this … atrocity… to interrupt our daily routines. Let the guard take care of what needs to be done, please. At the baron’s words, the villagers began to disperse, casting looks back towards the guard captain or the priest before disappearing into their own homes. Just then, the old man’s pale eyes fell on us, a curious glint was in his eye, as he regarded us fully. Father Zeigfried and Captain Tiberon noticed the barren’s gaze, following it to us. “Lady Lillian,” The baron began with a gracious bow. “It seems you have come back to us at a difficult time.” He continued, gesturing to the hut and the captain and the priest in one fluid motion. The baron’s gaze turned to me, then. “Ah, and Father Evora, what a pleasant surprise.” The glint in the baron’s eye remained. Father Zeigfried spat on the ground. “We could use Canaan’s guidance in these trying times. He has obviously chosen this time to send one of His chosen, and her personal confessor, to guide us through these troubled times.” I looked down at the fountain’s inscription as the crowd dispersed. It read: [I][CENTER]And in humanity’s darkest hour, amidst fear and violence, Canaan shall send his emissary from the heaven’s above And save mankind from the oppression of its own intolerance.[/CENTER][/I] My course was clear. My purpose, revealed. I would not abandon the people of Goldfire Glen. I would not rest until the peace and tranquility of Goldfire Glen was restored. I looked at Lord Underhill and responded. “Yes, my lord. We will, of course, do what is required to put this matter to rest and, if appropriate, dispel any notion that it is the doing of the Faean.” Father Zeigfried turned on his heel in a huff and proceeded to the castle with his two attendant Justicars in tow. Captain Tiberon breathed a sigh of relief. [/QUOTE]
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Tirlanolir/D'nemy's Tales of Turgos: The Heroes of Goldfire Glen (UPDATE 7/26)
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