[4e] The Wolfcrown, Chapter 1

Thorn's face was expressionless as she watched Thomas being dragged away. She'd ask about his effects later. Most likely some would find it crass for her to inquire now, and she had enough antipathy from members of the group as it was.

Do I have to?

The voice was an echo in her mind. A voice from the past. Her voice. How young had she been? Twelve? Thirteen?

The sewer cistern was empty now, but still smelled and had a sticky floor. Even with her shoes on, Thorn grimaced with each step. She looked up at Squint, who was standing on the edge above.

"Do I have to?" she pleaded.

Her mentor nodded and gestured towards the grill-covered duct on the far end. One was right behind Thorn too. "I'm sorry girl," he said, and she believed him, "This is your most important lesson yet, and if you don't learn it then I'm afraid you will be doomed."

"What lesson is that?"

Old Squint answered as he pulled a chain, causing the grate across from Thorn to open.

"To kill."

Something large, to Thorn at least, and furry trotted out, and she instinctively tensed, drawing her knife from its belt. Then she realized what the 'terrifying spectre' was.

Offal! One of Squint's three dogs, and the one she had befriended by bringing him little bits of food after meals. He was a thick-built dog, heavy in front with short brown hair that showed off his muscles. A flat snout and tiny ears made him look comically ugly.

The dog looked around and sniffed, a quizzical expression in the tilt of its ears, and the set of its tail.

Just as Thorn was starting to put her knife away, Squint shouted, "Offal! Eviscerate!"

Immediately Offal tensed, and his jowls lifted from over his teeth, baring them in a fierce snarl. His two undersized eyes latched onto Thorn.

"Thorn!" Squint called, "Be ready!"

She stared aghast as Offal charged at her across the cistern. His paws made little prints in the unspeakable mud that covered the floor. His claws made little 'tak tak tak tak' noises. He was coming at her as fast as an arrow...now leaping up to grab her throat in his powerful jaws...

Offal's impact against her pushed Thorn back against the wall behind her, and nearly knocked her off her feet entirely. She screamed as his teeth clamped down on her arm...which she'd managed to bring up in time to stop him from reaching her neck. Pain and fear flooded her, and worse, she knew what came next. She'd watched him hunt before. He grabbed, bit, and -shook-.

He'd break her arm to bits if he did that now.

Acting on instinct no less animal than Offal, Thorn swung her free arm, the one with the dagger, up and under the dog's barrel chest to where its ribs were just visible under its skin. The narrow blade easily found its way between the slabs of bone, and slipped through skin and muscle and viscera to the mutt's frantically beating heart.

There was a sharp 'yap' noise, and the crushing pressure on Thorn's arm eased, then fell off entirely. Offal whimpered and limped away, with blood pumping rhythmically from the gash in his side. Thorn realized belatedly that she'd twisted the blade, not even remembering who, or what it was she was stabbing. After a few seconds, the dog fell onto its side, and lay still.

There was a clanging noise as the dagger fell to the cistern floor.

After a long moment, Thorn asked in a thick voice, "Why?"

"You mean why did I make you fight?" Squint asked.

"Why a dog? Why THIS dog?" she explained. She wanted to wipe the hated tears from her face, but her hands were bloody, and she couldn't bear to spread that.

"Ah. You mean...why did I make you kill a friend." With grunts of effort, Squint started climbing down the ladder into the cistern. "Because killing someone, anyone, is a terrible act. It burns in your soul, and never really goes away. And the only thing worse than killing a stranger, is killing a friend."

"Which I've now done!" Thorn gritted in rising fury. She whirled to face her mentor. His expression stopped her short though. She'd expected cruelty...smugness...amusement maybe. But what she saw was a haunted, hollow sorrow.

"Yes," he agreed. "And now nothing else you do will ever seem as bad."


The changeling took in a deep breath and banished the memory back to the darkness where it belonged. She looked at the queen and shook her head.

"You haven't been saved yet, your Highness. This was only the opening move. Stay on your guard, and trust no one until this is truly over."

She paused, then added, "Which, I should advise you, may be never."
 
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Queen Springseer nods, made solemn by your sober expressions.

"Now is the time to prepare for the feast. If you'd like to step out to the merchant's shop, please go ahead. Otherwise, we can leave for the feast momentarily."

[sblock=Shopping]You can do your shopping in this thread or in the OOC thread, just listing the items you're buying. However, You guys haven't divided up the loot. You can discuss that in OOC.[/sblock]

Springseer walks with you, now dressed in an elegant, emerald robe that mirrors her soft green eyes. She carries the wooden staff from her home in her right hand, walking quietly.

[sblock=History or Religion 15]This wooden staff is the symbolic possession of the High Priestess of Adele. It was previously wielded by her mother, Queen Spearwhisper.[sblock=History or Religion 25]This is the actual staff that was used to strike down The Evil One, left in the care of Adele's High Priestesses. It is an incredibly powerful artifact.[/sblock][/sblock]

You emerge into the grove in which you fought Mig and his plant creature, but the area has since been cleaned and set up for the feast. Hundreds of people of many races make up the crowd. Everyone seems to be in good spirits, although a slight tension remains in the air, as would be expected on the evening of an assassination attempt.

Dozens of long wooden tables are arranged, each with its own luxurious array of springtime fruits and freshly roasted meats.

"My friends, please sit on either side of me at my table."

She motions for you to sit.

[sblock=ooc]Once you've all responded, the feast can commence.[/sblock]
 

Doren excuses himself for a few moments to clean himself up a bit.

His armor remained but a quick change of clothing and his vestments of Blackmoor were donned carefully and respectfully. Doren always held himself high and with grace when representing Blackmoor himself.

Returning to Springseer his eyes gaze at her elegant garb and before long his eyes rested on her staff she carries. In awe of what she head there in her hands.

[sblock=History and Religion Rolls]1d20+8=24 (History), 1d20+8=26 (Religion)[/sblock]

Quickly Doren drops to his knees once his realized what she was holding and quickly he lowered his head in DEEP respect.

"A must ask with the utmost respect M'Lady.... may I place my humble hand upon the piece of living history you hold there in your hands. I would understand if you declined but I cannot pass up the opportunity to touch the implement that struck last blow to The Evil One." Doren asked with a great bit of humility within his voice.
 

Springseer nods at Doren, then with a smile, offers him one end of the staff.

He reaches for it hesitantly, heart racing with excitement, and as his fingers grow nearer, he feels an intense energy emanating from it.

He grasps it gently, and a sudden blast of power erupts within his soul. He hears a booming, powerful female voice within his mind.

Do not falter!

Doren retracts his hand in fear, and within an instant, the voice is gone, along with the incredible power he felt. Could that have been the voice of the goddess?

Queen Springseer continues to smile at Doren.

"Sometimes she offers advice. Did she tell you anything?"
 

Donning his new armor before accompaning the queen, Torath was lucky an old warrior needed funds to go see his family in Blackmoor. He could no longer use the armor (that he said saved his life many times over), and he wished it in the hands of a warrior who would get good use out of it, not see it stand on a shelf collecting dust.

Torath had never seen the amount of gold that was thrust before him. Even now with what he has in a pouch at his waste it is more than he has seen in his entire life time. He even picked up two potions for a small "donation" at the local temple. Praying there was strange for he had never been to a temple not dedicated to all four gods before. But he was out here to experience the world and he would do what he must.

As they approach the feasting grounds Torath reflexes that he knows very little about the people here. He doesn't remember lessons on The White Vale, but how could that be? Torath remembers learning of other places through out the world and seeing maps and drawings of people. His thoughts are interrupted as the queen asks for all of them to join her.

"Your Highness, if I may?" Torath asks in a deep voice for all to hear. "Doren Kar was a true hero today saving the life of your majesty I think he should have a seat at thy side."

[sblock=OOC] And you will be nearby should you need to use that power if yours again. :p

Sorry it's long winded but figured I owed you more than - Torath joins the queen and the others at the feast. And i wanted to already have my equipment i think that armor may save my life LOL. opps long winded means i missed some goings on.[/sblock]


History = 13
 

Torath knows relatively little about the White Vale from his schooling in Imperia. His tutors rarely spoke of the fey people who lived there or their reasons for settling in the middle of a sprawling forest. In fact, the existence of a forest as big as the White Vale probably would have surprised even Torath's wisest mentors.

Queen Springseer nods at Torath's suggestions, and allows Doren the seat nearest her. All of you, however, may sit at her table, should you choose.
 

Doren nodded softly as he picked his eyes up to meet the queens. His eyes twinkled like that of an awestruck child glowing with near tears within his eyes.

"Her voice is so powerful, and is so very wise. She told me I must not falter and that is something I do not EVER plan to do. Thank you M'Lady for honoring my humble request." Doren said as he caught Torath's compliment and smiled to him as he stood and placed a hand on his shoulder and patted it softly. "I would have done the same for Lord Hood as well given the chance." he said softly as he smiled and moved to the queens chair and pulled the high backed intricate wooden chair out for her to sit in with a charming smile. "We can't start the festival without you m'Lady... If you would do the honor of being seated and seat us all?" Doren added as if he knew what he was doing formally.
 

The Queen graciously accepts Doren's gentlemanly gesture, and the festival goers all take their own seats.

"Thank you, Doren. Now we can all enjoy this feast together."

Doren, Torath and Baern sit, and the Queen waits for Thorn and Squeal to take their seats as well.
 

Much like the others, Thorn takes some time to prettify herself in anticipation of the celebration. In stark contrast to them however, she does not appear in polished armor, but rather in a dress of what must be elven make...perhaps borrowed or bought during the interlude. It clings to her bosom, leaving her shoulders and arms bare, and remains almost form-fitting down to the loose belt of golden threads at her waist, where it billows out into a long skirt of light material that wafts playfully in the lightest of breezes. The color fades from a deep forest green at the very top, to a light frothy sea green at the hem. Her long dark hair is pinned back in a bun; the formality of which is lessened by a few wild tufts that refuse to be tamed, and hang over her face or poke out the sides. Her feet, like so many of the elves around them, are bare and make no noise on the forest loam underfoot.

She makes her way to the Queen's left side and takes a seat without comment.

(OOC note - Her weapon is concealed (somewhere) on her person as a dagger. I'm happy to roll stealth to find out how well it's hidden, if you like. :))
 

[sblock=ooc]No worries about your concealed weapon, Shay. I can imagine Thorn would have no trouble hiding her dagger somewhere.[/sblock]

Springseer looks pleasantly at you. She seems happy that you're wearing more traditional clothes for the feast, and shoots you a wry smile. You also catch many of the eyes of the partygoers, who seem impressed by your beauty.
 

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