Nonlethal Force
First Post
Chapter Ten: METANOIA
Within minutes after the party left Rashaak and the unconscious goblin behind, they heard another set of howls. This particular set of howls sounded more desperate than before. As the party continued away from the scene, they noticed that the howls grew further and further away. At the sound of the howls the horses themselves naturally increased their pace. Each rider on the horses’ back noticed the increase in pace. The quickened pace was coupled with a run of goose bumps and chills of there own.
Charis was the first to comment on the howling. “I think that the howls are getting further away from us. Perhaps we are outdistancing them!”
Semeion offered up an alternate suggestion. His mind was working through the possible scenarios quickly as he was sure the pursuit would not be far behind. “Either that, or they have stopped to deal with Rashaak and the wounded one that we left behind.”
Rhema glanced down toward the ground with a brief moment of sorrow. “I do hope they will not treat Rashaak too miserably for allowing us to go. They should notice that he is still under my influence for a few more minutes. Hopefully our earlier encounter with Frang and Granknog will help them spare his life.”
Semeion offered up a hint of forgiveness to Rhema’s confession. “Either way, we did all that we could. We spared their lives and attempted to show them a higher ground. They brought the assault to us, Rhema.”
Rhema’s tone told that while she appreciated Semeion’s attempt to console her she was not altogether convinced. “Indeed. It seems that in Quehalost all we can do is small effects that narrowly escape failure. It really shouldn’t matter who brought the fight to whom. What should matter is that nobody needed to die at all.”
Ischarus had not heard the conversation from his position in the far rear of the group. The thundering of the horse hooves as they surged through the trees drowned out each of the front rider’s softer voices. “Whatever the reason is for the wolf howls fading in the distance, I think that we should be thankful and use that to spur us into riding harder! The more separation we can put between us and them the better off we will be when the froves begin pursuit again. We’ve already seen that we can be overtaken by the faster froves. Ride on, freedom fighters of Tongra!”
His last assertion rose in volume to that of a shout, the invocation of a semblance of a party name once again drove chills up and down the spines of those who rode on horseback. Unlike the last chills which came out of the eerie nature of the howling of the froves, these chills were from excitement and enthusiasm arising from a group identity. Charis let out a few cheers and yips. Before too long the entire party was yipping along with many of the thunderous thuds from the hooves beating upon the ground beneath them.
It did indeed prove to be the last they would hear of the goblins and froves as the rode hard. Nearly an hour and a half of hard riding later Ischarus called for a halt. He noticed that his horse was beginning to strain under the exertion of riding through unknown terrain at a considerable pace. “We walk to horses from here for a while,” Ischarus commanded after his call for a halt had gotten the attention of all ahead of him.
As they dismounted and began to walk in an attempt to cool the horses down and keep their overworked muscles from cramping, the light-gray figure approached Charis’ position and glided along the ground beside her. He matched her gate perfectly and without any effort. Abijou stood between Charis and the figure and the presence of the ghostly figure made the horse was nervous to say the least. “So, Drakontos, how does it feel to be home? From what the others have told me about your story I understand this area controlled by the great red wyrm Grixanthrosilithiss is your homeland?”
Charis nodded, although her gesture went unseen by the figure since her head was hidden by the broad front shoulders of Abijou. “You have heard correctly. I have been in no greater danger than that which I approach with every step. Our only hope is that my father dragon watches the other side of his territory with the same intensity of focus as he hoards treasure and plans on conquering the world in order to hoard more treasure. We hope to sneak in the back door and catch him unaware.”
Semeion added a question of his own before the light gray figure could reply. “You know this land well, then? Can you state for certain that we are out of goblin territory and safely into the land of the wyrm?”
Ischarus laughed and added, “Safely. Now that is an interesting choice of words, Semeion.”
The light gray figure ignored Ischarus for the moment and replied to Semeion before addressing Charis once more. “Yes. We are out of the goblin territory and have been for some time. Now you all fear fire from the sky and not the furry death from the glowing-eyed froves. But you avoided my question, Charis. How does it feel to be home?”
Nobody saw the single tear that ran down Charis’ cheek. She was grateful the tear appeared out of her left eye, as it meant her nose hid it from the right and Abijou hid it from the left. Her voice betrayed her passion, however. “How do you describe it? Is there a word that describes fear, terror, rage, guilt, and compassion all at once?”
Semeion was the first to pick up on her tone and respond. “Charis, are you alright? Do you need to break from our constant pursuit of your homeland?”
Charis shook her head slowly. Her speech came even more slowly. “No. The walking helps keep my mind focused away from the emotion.”
Silence ensued, Charis was obviously upset and even beyond death the light gray figure was able to understand that his innocent question had brought her emotions to the surface. After they had walked with only the sounds of feet and hooves crushing twigs and pine needles underneath for several minutes Charis spoke again. “What have I done to deserve this favor? Look at me? I was rescued from a life of abuse. Most likely I’d either be pregnant with half-draconic children right now or I’d be dead. One of those two choices was likely going to be my fate if I’d remained. And when it happened I didn’t even want to be rescued because I did not understand the truth about freedom and life.”
She paused for a moment to catch her breath before speaking again. “My people remain enslaved to that beast. I doubt that most found freedom when I was rescued. They had no guide through the tunnels. They knew no greater path. If they were not killed, captured, or enslaved by any of the beings that inhabit the tunnels underneath the mountains then they were likely rounded up and brought back. Worse yet, my people may have grown hungry and desperate when they were out on their own. Thus, they would have returned home and accepted the anger that my dragon father threw at them in exchange for the ability to continue living. Yet, if they did return they would have had to bargain their way into my father dragon’s society. They would have been forced to agree to a harder lifestyle than before. What did I ever do to deserve such a fate as this? Why am I so lucky while the rest of my people suffer so greatly?”
Again, silence ensued. Charis’ words made it clear that her comments were largely rhetorical. What could be said in response to the truth of what she spoke? Sure, everyone who was walking beside Charis knew that often life hands out cards in an unfair manner. In spite of this knowledge it seemed like a highly inappropriate time to remind Charis of that fact. Saying such a thing would only worsen the pain inside rather than ease it. Reminding her that life is not fair would only strengthen the guilt she felt inside.
They continued to walk in silence for well over a few hours. At first the party maintained silence for Charis’ sake. But once the silence had continued for some time they realized that it was not a bad strategy to use when passing through the dragon’s territory. After several hours of silence, Charis herself spoke first. She looked around at the surrounding area and recognition came to her eyes. “I know this territory. We are not far now. Perhaps a day’s more journey if we continue to travel until sundown.” She looked through the canopy above her as best as she could. “I recognize those hills. We used to come near this land and hunt for food.”
The pace of the party quickened once more. They were invigorated after enjoying the natural slow from Charis’ earlier comments. They continued to walk, knowing that the horses would be ridden hard tomorrow to reach their destination. The party had enough of silence and when Charis had spoken it sparked several small discussions about random elements of life. The party spoke of food, weapons, horses, and the light gray figure’s areas of expertise in Quehalost.
By the time sundown came, they had approached a natural spot in which to rest. There was a place where the canopy lessened and it would make a natural place to rest on account of the starlight helping the visibility for the evening watches. There was still enough of a canopy overhead to escape detection should a certain flying red dragon pass by. Camp was established quickly since it would be a fire-free camp. The flames from a fire would only attract attention from above. The light gray figure planned on helping each of the party members stay awake, keep alert, and pass the time on their watch since he would not need to sleep.
The next day passed quickly. The party rode atop their horses for most of the day, but they did not ride their horses hard. They knew that should they encounter resistance they would need fresh horses. This would be especially true should they encounter the kind of resistance with scales and a fiery breath. The pace was akin to a brisk walk for the horses.
The ground leveled as they neared the area that Charis had grown up under the careful eye of Grixanthrosilithiss. He had chosen an excellent place to establish his territorial rule. The mountains rose up sharply, giving him a perfect place to establish a home of his own. However, beneath the sharply increasing mountain sides there was a single valley of flat land. It was an ideal village area. Charis had loved its majesty when she was growing up. Now each step closer caused another figurative butterfly to flutter around inside her.
They knew that they were close when they saw the signs of smoke. Charis knew immediately that it was an innocent smoke. It was the smoke of cooking fires and small forges. Yet the spirits of all but Charis lifted as they saw the signs. It meant they were close. On horseback, they were less than a quarter of an hour of riding away.
Ischarus held up a clenched fist and the party came to an immediate halt. “Rhema, you and Semeion tend the horses. Charis and I know the most about Drakontai. We’re going to take a look.”
The plan made sense, at least on the surface level. The light gray figure decided to stay and talk lightly with Rhema and Semeion while the other two left. The canopy above them was thick, so it seemed like a good place to rest. Shortly after dismounting, Ischarus and Charis were out of sight and unable to be heard as they walked through the forest.
Ischarus and Rhema slowly crept up to the village edge. They saw the clearing as it had been only a few months before. The horizontal stone slab still existed as an important icon at the center of the community, although it was now empty and the signs of the earlier battle had easily been erased. The houses were still present in the near circular ring that Charis remembered. Everything seemed as though it had remained the same, almost as if the party’s efforts to disrupt the village had only one effect. It was as if life remained exactly the same with the exception of the disappearance of herself and a few others from her village.
As they looked and crept around the outside of the village only a few feet from the edge of the undergrowth, both Charis and Ischarus stopped at the same time. Their eyes simultaneously fixed on the same location. There was a four foot steel cube hanging from a pole in a slightly off center position within the circle of houses that made up the village. The steel cube had a solid top and bottom. The top of the cube had been painted black. The two sides of the cube that Ischarus and Rhema saw were both solid and also painted black.
With a slow and determined motion, Charis crept around the village enough to be able to get a glimpse of what the object truly was. As the other side came into view she understood. A third face of the steel cube was solid black painted steel. The fourth side had steel bars rather than a solid face. It was a cage, suspended from a pole. There was neither enough room to stand or lay down. Ironically, it reminded Ischarus of the torture device the light gray figure had spoken of being kept in within the goblin village.
Charis commented with a whisper as she noted the device. “It’s a cage. I can’t make out what’s inside. Is it an animal or human inside, can you see?”
Ischarus shook his head. “No clue.” He motioned for Charis to continue moving around.
As she moved, she tried to peer inside. “Painted black to draw the heat of the sun?” Charis questioned her thoughts aloud, speaking through her thoughts more than asking a legitimate question of Ischarus.
Ischarus answered anyway. “Probably a method of torture. It’d make sense for your dragon father to use the sun as a torture device. He is a red wyrm after all.
Charis stopped as the person inside came into view. “No,” she spoke softly. “It can’t be. Not for all this time! Oh, what have I done?”
[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]Chapter Ten: METANOIA
Within minutes after the party left Rashaak and the unconscious goblin behind, they heard another set of howls. This particular set of howls sounded more desperate than before. As the party continued away from the scene, they noticed that the howls grew further and further away. At the sound of the howls the horses themselves naturally increased their pace. Each rider on the horses’ back noticed the increase in pace. The quickened pace was coupled with a run of goose bumps and chills of there own.
Charis was the first to comment on the howling. “I think that the howls are getting further away from us. Perhaps we are outdistancing them!”
Semeion offered up an alternate suggestion. His mind was working through the possible scenarios quickly as he was sure the pursuit would not be far behind. “Either that, or they have stopped to deal with Rashaak and the wounded one that we left behind.”
Rhema glanced down toward the ground with a brief moment of sorrow. “I do hope they will not treat Rashaak too miserably for allowing us to go. They should notice that he is still under my influence for a few more minutes. Hopefully our earlier encounter with Frang and Granknog will help them spare his life.”
Semeion offered up a hint of forgiveness to Rhema’s confession. “Either way, we did all that we could. We spared their lives and attempted to show them a higher ground. They brought the assault to us, Rhema.”
Rhema’s tone told that while she appreciated Semeion’s attempt to console her she was not altogether convinced. “Indeed. It seems that in Quehalost all we can do is small effects that narrowly escape failure. It really shouldn’t matter who brought the fight to whom. What should matter is that nobody needed to die at all.”
Ischarus had not heard the conversation from his position in the far rear of the group. The thundering of the horse hooves as they surged through the trees drowned out each of the front rider’s softer voices. “Whatever the reason is for the wolf howls fading in the distance, I think that we should be thankful and use that to spur us into riding harder! The more separation we can put between us and them the better off we will be when the froves begin pursuit again. We’ve already seen that we can be overtaken by the faster froves. Ride on, freedom fighters of Tongra!”
His last assertion rose in volume to that of a shout, the invocation of a semblance of a party name once again drove chills up and down the spines of those who rode on horseback. Unlike the last chills which came out of the eerie nature of the howling of the froves, these chills were from excitement and enthusiasm arising from a group identity. Charis let out a few cheers and yips. Before too long the entire party was yipping along with many of the thunderous thuds from the hooves beating upon the ground beneath them.
It did indeed prove to be the last they would hear of the goblins and froves as the rode hard. Nearly an hour and a half of hard riding later Ischarus called for a halt. He noticed that his horse was beginning to strain under the exertion of riding through unknown terrain at a considerable pace. “We walk to horses from here for a while,” Ischarus commanded after his call for a halt had gotten the attention of all ahead of him.
As they dismounted and began to walk in an attempt to cool the horses down and keep their overworked muscles from cramping, the light-gray figure approached Charis’ position and glided along the ground beside her. He matched her gate perfectly and without any effort. Abijou stood between Charis and the figure and the presence of the ghostly figure made the horse was nervous to say the least. “So, Drakontos, how does it feel to be home? From what the others have told me about your story I understand this area controlled by the great red wyrm Grixanthrosilithiss is your homeland?”
Charis nodded, although her gesture went unseen by the figure since her head was hidden by the broad front shoulders of Abijou. “You have heard correctly. I have been in no greater danger than that which I approach with every step. Our only hope is that my father dragon watches the other side of his territory with the same intensity of focus as he hoards treasure and plans on conquering the world in order to hoard more treasure. We hope to sneak in the back door and catch him unaware.”
Semeion added a question of his own before the light gray figure could reply. “You know this land well, then? Can you state for certain that we are out of goblin territory and safely into the land of the wyrm?”
Ischarus laughed and added, “Safely. Now that is an interesting choice of words, Semeion.”
The light gray figure ignored Ischarus for the moment and replied to Semeion before addressing Charis once more. “Yes. We are out of the goblin territory and have been for some time. Now you all fear fire from the sky and not the furry death from the glowing-eyed froves. But you avoided my question, Charis. How does it feel to be home?”
Nobody saw the single tear that ran down Charis’ cheek. She was grateful the tear appeared out of her left eye, as it meant her nose hid it from the right and Abijou hid it from the left. Her voice betrayed her passion, however. “How do you describe it? Is there a word that describes fear, terror, rage, guilt, and compassion all at once?”
Semeion was the first to pick up on her tone and respond. “Charis, are you alright? Do you need to break from our constant pursuit of your homeland?”
Charis shook her head slowly. Her speech came even more slowly. “No. The walking helps keep my mind focused away from the emotion.”
Silence ensued, Charis was obviously upset and even beyond death the light gray figure was able to understand that his innocent question had brought her emotions to the surface. After they had walked with only the sounds of feet and hooves crushing twigs and pine needles underneath for several minutes Charis spoke again. “What have I done to deserve this favor? Look at me? I was rescued from a life of abuse. Most likely I’d either be pregnant with half-draconic children right now or I’d be dead. One of those two choices was likely going to be my fate if I’d remained. And when it happened I didn’t even want to be rescued because I did not understand the truth about freedom and life.”
She paused for a moment to catch her breath before speaking again. “My people remain enslaved to that beast. I doubt that most found freedom when I was rescued. They had no guide through the tunnels. They knew no greater path. If they were not killed, captured, or enslaved by any of the beings that inhabit the tunnels underneath the mountains then they were likely rounded up and brought back. Worse yet, my people may have grown hungry and desperate when they were out on their own. Thus, they would have returned home and accepted the anger that my dragon father threw at them in exchange for the ability to continue living. Yet, if they did return they would have had to bargain their way into my father dragon’s society. They would have been forced to agree to a harder lifestyle than before. What did I ever do to deserve such a fate as this? Why am I so lucky while the rest of my people suffer so greatly?”
Again, silence ensued. Charis’ words made it clear that her comments were largely rhetorical. What could be said in response to the truth of what she spoke? Sure, everyone who was walking beside Charis knew that often life hands out cards in an unfair manner. In spite of this knowledge it seemed like a highly inappropriate time to remind Charis of that fact. Saying such a thing would only worsen the pain inside rather than ease it. Reminding her that life is not fair would only strengthen the guilt she felt inside.
They continued to walk in silence for well over a few hours. At first the party maintained silence for Charis’ sake. But once the silence had continued for some time they realized that it was not a bad strategy to use when passing through the dragon’s territory. After several hours of silence, Charis herself spoke first. She looked around at the surrounding area and recognition came to her eyes. “I know this territory. We are not far now. Perhaps a day’s more journey if we continue to travel until sundown.” She looked through the canopy above her as best as she could. “I recognize those hills. We used to come near this land and hunt for food.”
The pace of the party quickened once more. They were invigorated after enjoying the natural slow from Charis’ earlier comments. They continued to walk, knowing that the horses would be ridden hard tomorrow to reach their destination. The party had enough of silence and when Charis had spoken it sparked several small discussions about random elements of life. The party spoke of food, weapons, horses, and the light gray figure’s areas of expertise in Quehalost.
By the time sundown came, they had approached a natural spot in which to rest. There was a place where the canopy lessened and it would make a natural place to rest on account of the starlight helping the visibility for the evening watches. There was still enough of a canopy overhead to escape detection should a certain flying red dragon pass by. Camp was established quickly since it would be a fire-free camp. The flames from a fire would only attract attention from above. The light gray figure planned on helping each of the party members stay awake, keep alert, and pass the time on their watch since he would not need to sleep.
The next day passed quickly. The party rode atop their horses for most of the day, but they did not ride their horses hard. They knew that should they encounter resistance they would need fresh horses. This would be especially true should they encounter the kind of resistance with scales and a fiery breath. The pace was akin to a brisk walk for the horses.
The ground leveled as they neared the area that Charis had grown up under the careful eye of Grixanthrosilithiss. He had chosen an excellent place to establish his territorial rule. The mountains rose up sharply, giving him a perfect place to establish a home of his own. However, beneath the sharply increasing mountain sides there was a single valley of flat land. It was an ideal village area. Charis had loved its majesty when she was growing up. Now each step closer caused another figurative butterfly to flutter around inside her.
They knew that they were close when they saw the signs of smoke. Charis knew immediately that it was an innocent smoke. It was the smoke of cooking fires and small forges. Yet the spirits of all but Charis lifted as they saw the signs. It meant they were close. On horseback, they were less than a quarter of an hour of riding away.
Ischarus held up a clenched fist and the party came to an immediate halt. “Rhema, you and Semeion tend the horses. Charis and I know the most about Drakontai. We’re going to take a look.”
The plan made sense, at least on the surface level. The light gray figure decided to stay and talk lightly with Rhema and Semeion while the other two left. The canopy above them was thick, so it seemed like a good place to rest. Shortly after dismounting, Ischarus and Charis were out of sight and unable to be heard as they walked through the forest.
Ischarus and Rhema slowly crept up to the village edge. They saw the clearing as it had been only a few months before. The horizontal stone slab still existed as an important icon at the center of the community, although it was now empty and the signs of the earlier battle had easily been erased. The houses were still present in the near circular ring that Charis remembered. Everything seemed as though it had remained the same, almost as if the party’s efforts to disrupt the village had only one effect. It was as if life remained exactly the same with the exception of the disappearance of herself and a few others from her village.
As they looked and crept around the outside of the village only a few feet from the edge of the undergrowth, both Charis and Ischarus stopped at the same time. Their eyes simultaneously fixed on the same location. There was a four foot steel cube hanging from a pole in a slightly off center position within the circle of houses that made up the village. The steel cube had a solid top and bottom. The top of the cube had been painted black. The two sides of the cube that Ischarus and Rhema saw were both solid and also painted black.
With a slow and determined motion, Charis crept around the village enough to be able to get a glimpse of what the object truly was. As the other side came into view she understood. A third face of the steel cube was solid black painted steel. The fourth side had steel bars rather than a solid face. It was a cage, suspended from a pole. There was neither enough room to stand or lay down. Ironically, it reminded Ischarus of the torture device the light gray figure had spoken of being kept in within the goblin village.
Charis commented with a whisper as she noted the device. “It’s a cage. I can’t make out what’s inside. Is it an animal or human inside, can you see?”
Ischarus shook his head. “No clue.” He motioned for Charis to continue moving around.
As she moved, she tried to peer inside. “Painted black to draw the heat of the sun?” Charis questioned her thoughts aloud, speaking through her thoughts more than asking a legitimate question of Ischarus.
Ischarus answered anyway. “Probably a method of torture. It’d make sense for your dragon father to use the sun as a torture device. He is a red wyrm after all.
Charis stopped as the person inside came into view. “No,” she spoke softly. “It can’t be. Not for all this time! Oh, what have I done?”[/Sblock]
Within minutes after the party left Rashaak and the unconscious goblin behind, they heard another set of howls. This particular set of howls sounded more desperate than before. As the party continued away from the scene, they noticed that the howls grew further and further away. At the sound of the howls the horses themselves naturally increased their pace. Each rider on the horses’ back noticed the increase in pace. The quickened pace was coupled with a run of goose bumps and chills of there own.
Charis was the first to comment on the howling. “I think that the howls are getting further away from us. Perhaps we are outdistancing them!”
Semeion offered up an alternate suggestion. His mind was working through the possible scenarios quickly as he was sure the pursuit would not be far behind. “Either that, or they have stopped to deal with Rashaak and the wounded one that we left behind.”
Rhema glanced down toward the ground with a brief moment of sorrow. “I do hope they will not treat Rashaak too miserably for allowing us to go. They should notice that he is still under my influence for a few more minutes. Hopefully our earlier encounter with Frang and Granknog will help them spare his life.”
Semeion offered up a hint of forgiveness to Rhema’s confession. “Either way, we did all that we could. We spared their lives and attempted to show them a higher ground. They brought the assault to us, Rhema.”
Rhema’s tone told that while she appreciated Semeion’s attempt to console her she was not altogether convinced. “Indeed. It seems that in Quehalost all we can do is small effects that narrowly escape failure. It really shouldn’t matter who brought the fight to whom. What should matter is that nobody needed to die at all.”
Ischarus had not heard the conversation from his position in the far rear of the group. The thundering of the horse hooves as they surged through the trees drowned out each of the front rider’s softer voices. “Whatever the reason is for the wolf howls fading in the distance, I think that we should be thankful and use that to spur us into riding harder! The more separation we can put between us and them the better off we will be when the froves begin pursuit again. We’ve already seen that we can be overtaken by the faster froves. Ride on, freedom fighters of Tongra!”
His last assertion rose in volume to that of a shout, the invocation of a semblance of a party name once again drove chills up and down the spines of those who rode on horseback. Unlike the last chills which came out of the eerie nature of the howling of the froves, these chills were from excitement and enthusiasm arising from a group identity. Charis let out a few cheers and yips. Before too long the entire party was yipping along with many of the thunderous thuds from the hooves beating upon the ground beneath them.
It did indeed prove to be the last they would hear of the goblins and froves as the rode hard. Nearly an hour and a half of hard riding later Ischarus called for a halt. He noticed that his horse was beginning to strain under the exertion of riding through unknown terrain at a considerable pace. “We walk to horses from here for a while,” Ischarus commanded after his call for a halt had gotten the attention of all ahead of him.
As they dismounted and began to walk in an attempt to cool the horses down and keep their overworked muscles from cramping, the light-gray figure approached Charis’ position and glided along the ground beside her. He matched her gate perfectly and without any effort. Abijou stood between Charis and the figure and the presence of the ghostly figure made the horse was nervous to say the least. “So, Drakontos, how does it feel to be home? From what the others have told me about your story I understand this area controlled by the great red wyrm Grixanthrosilithiss is your homeland?”
Charis nodded, although her gesture went unseen by the figure since her head was hidden by the broad front shoulders of Abijou. “You have heard correctly. I have been in no greater danger than that which I approach with every step. Our only hope is that my father dragon watches the other side of his territory with the same intensity of focus as he hoards treasure and plans on conquering the world in order to hoard more treasure. We hope to sneak in the back door and catch him unaware.”
Semeion added a question of his own before the light gray figure could reply. “You know this land well, then? Can you state for certain that we are out of goblin territory and safely into the land of the wyrm?”
Ischarus laughed and added, “Safely. Now that is an interesting choice of words, Semeion.”
The light gray figure ignored Ischarus for the moment and replied to Semeion before addressing Charis once more. “Yes. We are out of the goblin territory and have been for some time. Now you all fear fire from the sky and not the furry death from the glowing-eyed froves. But you avoided my question, Charis. How does it feel to be home?”
Nobody saw the single tear that ran down Charis’ cheek. She was grateful the tear appeared out of her left eye, as it meant her nose hid it from the right and Abijou hid it from the left. Her voice betrayed her passion, however. “How do you describe it? Is there a word that describes fear, terror, rage, guilt, and compassion all at once?”
Semeion was the first to pick up on her tone and respond. “Charis, are you alright? Do you need to break from our constant pursuit of your homeland?”
Charis shook her head slowly. Her speech came even more slowly. “No. The walking helps keep my mind focused away from the emotion.”
Silence ensued, Charis was obviously upset and even beyond death the light gray figure was able to understand that his innocent question had brought her emotions to the surface. After they had walked with only the sounds of feet and hooves crushing twigs and pine needles underneath for several minutes Charis spoke again. “What have I done to deserve this favor? Look at me? I was rescued from a life of abuse. Most likely I’d either be pregnant with half-draconic children right now or I’d be dead. One of those two choices was likely going to be my fate if I’d remained. And when it happened I didn’t even want to be rescued because I did not understand the truth about freedom and life.”
She paused for a moment to catch her breath before speaking again. “My people remain enslaved to that beast. I doubt that most found freedom when I was rescued. They had no guide through the tunnels. They knew no greater path. If they were not killed, captured, or enslaved by any of the beings that inhabit the tunnels underneath the mountains then they were likely rounded up and brought back. Worse yet, my people may have grown hungry and desperate when they were out on their own. Thus, they would have returned home and accepted the anger that my dragon father threw at them in exchange for the ability to continue living. Yet, if they did return they would have had to bargain their way into my father dragon’s society. They would have been forced to agree to a harder lifestyle than before. What did I ever do to deserve such a fate as this? Why am I so lucky while the rest of my people suffer so greatly?”
Again, silence ensued. Charis’ words made it clear that her comments were largely rhetorical. What could be said in response to the truth of what she spoke? Sure, everyone who was walking beside Charis knew that often life hands out cards in an unfair manner. In spite of this knowledge it seemed like a highly inappropriate time to remind Charis of that fact. Saying such a thing would only worsen the pain inside rather than ease it. Reminding her that life is not fair would only strengthen the guilt she felt inside.
They continued to walk in silence for well over a few hours. At first the party maintained silence for Charis’ sake. But once the silence had continued for some time they realized that it was not a bad strategy to use when passing through the dragon’s territory. After several hours of silence, Charis herself spoke first. She looked around at the surrounding area and recognition came to her eyes. “I know this territory. We are not far now. Perhaps a day’s more journey if we continue to travel until sundown.” She looked through the canopy above her as best as she could. “I recognize those hills. We used to come near this land and hunt for food.”
The pace of the party quickened once more. They were invigorated after enjoying the natural slow from Charis’ earlier comments. They continued to walk, knowing that the horses would be ridden hard tomorrow to reach their destination. The party had enough of silence and when Charis had spoken it sparked several small discussions about random elements of life. The party spoke of food, weapons, horses, and the light gray figure’s areas of expertise in Quehalost.
By the time sundown came, they had approached a natural spot in which to rest. There was a place where the canopy lessened and it would make a natural place to rest on account of the starlight helping the visibility for the evening watches. There was still enough of a canopy overhead to escape detection should a certain flying red dragon pass by. Camp was established quickly since it would be a fire-free camp. The flames from a fire would only attract attention from above. The light gray figure planned on helping each of the party members stay awake, keep alert, and pass the time on their watch since he would not need to sleep.
The next day passed quickly. The party rode atop their horses for most of the day, but they did not ride their horses hard. They knew that should they encounter resistance they would need fresh horses. This would be especially true should they encounter the kind of resistance with scales and a fiery breath. The pace was akin to a brisk walk for the horses.
The ground leveled as they neared the area that Charis had grown up under the careful eye of Grixanthrosilithiss. He had chosen an excellent place to establish his territorial rule. The mountains rose up sharply, giving him a perfect place to establish a home of his own. However, beneath the sharply increasing mountain sides there was a single valley of flat land. It was an ideal village area. Charis had loved its majesty when she was growing up. Now each step closer caused another figurative butterfly to flutter around inside her.
They knew that they were close when they saw the signs of smoke. Charis knew immediately that it was an innocent smoke. It was the smoke of cooking fires and small forges. Yet the spirits of all but Charis lifted as they saw the signs. It meant they were close. On horseback, they were less than a quarter of an hour of riding away.
Ischarus held up a clenched fist and the party came to an immediate halt. “Rhema, you and Semeion tend the horses. Charis and I know the most about Drakontai. We’re going to take a look.”
The plan made sense, at least on the surface level. The light gray figure decided to stay and talk lightly with Rhema and Semeion while the other two left. The canopy above them was thick, so it seemed like a good place to rest. Shortly after dismounting, Ischarus and Charis were out of sight and unable to be heard as they walked through the forest.
Ischarus and Rhema slowly crept up to the village edge. They saw the clearing as it had been only a few months before. The horizontal stone slab still existed as an important icon at the center of the community, although it was now empty and the signs of the earlier battle had easily been erased. The houses were still present in the near circular ring that Charis remembered. Everything seemed as though it had remained the same, almost as if the party’s efforts to disrupt the village had only one effect. It was as if life remained exactly the same with the exception of the disappearance of herself and a few others from her village.
As they looked and crept around the outside of the village only a few feet from the edge of the undergrowth, both Charis and Ischarus stopped at the same time. Their eyes simultaneously fixed on the same location. There was a four foot steel cube hanging from a pole in a slightly off center position within the circle of houses that made up the village. The steel cube had a solid top and bottom. The top of the cube had been painted black. The two sides of the cube that Ischarus and Rhema saw were both solid and also painted black.
With a slow and determined motion, Charis crept around the village enough to be able to get a glimpse of what the object truly was. As the other side came into view she understood. A third face of the steel cube was solid black painted steel. The fourth side had steel bars rather than a solid face. It was a cage, suspended from a pole. There was neither enough room to stand or lay down. Ironically, it reminded Ischarus of the torture device the light gray figure had spoken of being kept in within the goblin village.
Charis commented with a whisper as she noted the device. “It’s a cage. I can’t make out what’s inside. Is it an animal or human inside, can you see?”
Ischarus shook his head. “No clue.” He motioned for Charis to continue moving around.
As she moved, she tried to peer inside. “Painted black to draw the heat of the sun?” Charis questioned her thoughts aloud, speaking through her thoughts more than asking a legitimate question of Ischarus.
Ischarus answered anyway. “Probably a method of torture. It’d make sense for your dragon father to use the sun as a torture device. He is a red wyrm after all.
Charis stopped as the person inside came into view. “No,” she spoke softly. “It can’t be. Not for all this time! Oh, what have I done?”
[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]Chapter Ten: METANOIA
Within minutes after the party left Rashaak and the unconscious goblin behind, they heard another set of howls. This particular set of howls sounded more desperate than before. As the party continued away from the scene, they noticed that the howls grew further and further away. At the sound of the howls the horses themselves naturally increased their pace. Each rider on the horses’ back noticed the increase in pace. The quickened pace was coupled with a run of goose bumps and chills of there own.
Charis was the first to comment on the howling. “I think that the howls are getting further away from us. Perhaps we are outdistancing them!”
Semeion offered up an alternate suggestion. His mind was working through the possible scenarios quickly as he was sure the pursuit would not be far behind. “Either that, or they have stopped to deal with Rashaak and the wounded one that we left behind.”
Rhema glanced down toward the ground with a brief moment of sorrow. “I do hope they will not treat Rashaak too miserably for allowing us to go. They should notice that he is still under my influence for a few more minutes. Hopefully our earlier encounter with Frang and Granknog will help them spare his life.”
Semeion offered up a hint of forgiveness to Rhema’s confession. “Either way, we did all that we could. We spared their lives and attempted to show them a higher ground. They brought the assault to us, Rhema.”
Rhema’s tone told that while she appreciated Semeion’s attempt to console her she was not altogether convinced. “Indeed. It seems that in Quehalost all we can do is small effects that narrowly escape failure. It really shouldn’t matter who brought the fight to whom. What should matter is that nobody needed to die at all.”
Ischarus had not heard the conversation from his position in the far rear of the group. The thundering of the horse hooves as they surged through the trees drowned out each of the front rider’s softer voices. “Whatever the reason is for the wolf howls fading in the distance, I think that we should be thankful and use that to spur us into riding harder! The more separation we can put between us and them the better off we will be when the froves begin pursuit again. We’ve already seen that we can be overtaken by the faster froves. Ride on, freedom fighters of Tongra!”
His last assertion rose in volume to that of a shout, the invocation of a semblance of a party name once again drove chills up and down the spines of those who rode on horseback. Unlike the last chills which came out of the eerie nature of the howling of the froves, these chills were from excitement and enthusiasm arising from a group identity. Charis let out a few cheers and yips. Before too long the entire party was yipping along with many of the thunderous thuds from the hooves beating upon the ground beneath them.
It did indeed prove to be the last they would hear of the goblins and froves as the rode hard. Nearly an hour and a half of hard riding later Ischarus called for a halt. He noticed that his horse was beginning to strain under the exertion of riding through unknown terrain at a considerable pace. “We walk to horses from here for a while,” Ischarus commanded after his call for a halt had gotten the attention of all ahead of him.
As they dismounted and began to walk in an attempt to cool the horses down and keep their overworked muscles from cramping, the light-gray figure approached Charis’ position and glided along the ground beside her. He matched her gate perfectly and without any effort. Abijou stood between Charis and the figure and the presence of the ghostly figure made the horse was nervous to say the least. “So, Drakontos, how does it feel to be home? From what the others have told me about your story I understand this area controlled by the great red wyrm Grixanthrosilithiss is your homeland?”
Charis nodded, although her gesture went unseen by the figure since her head was hidden by the broad front shoulders of Abijou. “You have heard correctly. I have been in no greater danger than that which I approach with every step. Our only hope is that my father dragon watches the other side of his territory with the same intensity of focus as he hoards treasure and plans on conquering the world in order to hoard more treasure. We hope to sneak in the back door and catch him unaware.”
Semeion added a question of his own before the light gray figure could reply. “You know this land well, then? Can you state for certain that we are out of goblin territory and safely into the land of the wyrm?”
Ischarus laughed and added, “Safely. Now that is an interesting choice of words, Semeion.”
The light gray figure ignored Ischarus for the moment and replied to Semeion before addressing Charis once more. “Yes. We are out of the goblin territory and have been for some time. Now you all fear fire from the sky and not the furry death from the glowing-eyed froves. But you avoided my question, Charis. How does it feel to be home?”
Nobody saw the single tear that ran down Charis’ cheek. She was grateful the tear appeared out of her left eye, as it meant her nose hid it from the right and Abijou hid it from the left. Her voice betrayed her passion, however. “How do you describe it? Is there a word that describes fear, terror, rage, guilt, and compassion all at once?”
Semeion was the first to pick up on her tone and respond. “Charis, are you alright? Do you need to break from our constant pursuit of your homeland?”
Charis shook her head slowly. Her speech came even more slowly. “No. The walking helps keep my mind focused away from the emotion.”
Silence ensued, Charis was obviously upset and even beyond death the light gray figure was able to understand that his innocent question had brought her emotions to the surface. After they had walked with only the sounds of feet and hooves crushing twigs and pine needles underneath for several minutes Charis spoke again. “What have I done to deserve this favor? Look at me? I was rescued from a life of abuse. Most likely I’d either be pregnant with half-draconic children right now or I’d be dead. One of those two choices was likely going to be my fate if I’d remained. And when it happened I didn’t even want to be rescued because I did not understand the truth about freedom and life.”
She paused for a moment to catch her breath before speaking again. “My people remain enslaved to that beast. I doubt that most found freedom when I was rescued. They had no guide through the tunnels. They knew no greater path. If they were not killed, captured, or enslaved by any of the beings that inhabit the tunnels underneath the mountains then they were likely rounded up and brought back. Worse yet, my people may have grown hungry and desperate when they were out on their own. Thus, they would have returned home and accepted the anger that my dragon father threw at them in exchange for the ability to continue living. Yet, if they did return they would have had to bargain their way into my father dragon’s society. They would have been forced to agree to a harder lifestyle than before. What did I ever do to deserve such a fate as this? Why am I so lucky while the rest of my people suffer so greatly?”
Again, silence ensued. Charis’ words made it clear that her comments were largely rhetorical. What could be said in response to the truth of what she spoke? Sure, everyone who was walking beside Charis knew that often life hands out cards in an unfair manner. In spite of this knowledge it seemed like a highly inappropriate time to remind Charis of that fact. Saying such a thing would only worsen the pain inside rather than ease it. Reminding her that life is not fair would only strengthen the guilt she felt inside.
They continued to walk in silence for well over a few hours. At first the party maintained silence for Charis’ sake. But once the silence had continued for some time they realized that it was not a bad strategy to use when passing through the dragon’s territory. After several hours of silence, Charis herself spoke first. She looked around at the surrounding area and recognition came to her eyes. “I know this territory. We are not far now. Perhaps a day’s more journey if we continue to travel until sundown.” She looked through the canopy above her as best as she could. “I recognize those hills. We used to come near this land and hunt for food.”
The pace of the party quickened once more. They were invigorated after enjoying the natural slow from Charis’ earlier comments. They continued to walk, knowing that the horses would be ridden hard tomorrow to reach their destination. The party had enough of silence and when Charis had spoken it sparked several small discussions about random elements of life. The party spoke of food, weapons, horses, and the light gray figure’s areas of expertise in Quehalost.
By the time sundown came, they had approached a natural spot in which to rest. There was a place where the canopy lessened and it would make a natural place to rest on account of the starlight helping the visibility for the evening watches. There was still enough of a canopy overhead to escape detection should a certain flying red dragon pass by. Camp was established quickly since it would be a fire-free camp. The flames from a fire would only attract attention from above. The light gray figure planned on helping each of the party members stay awake, keep alert, and pass the time on their watch since he would not need to sleep.
The next day passed quickly. The party rode atop their horses for most of the day, but they did not ride their horses hard. They knew that should they encounter resistance they would need fresh horses. This would be especially true should they encounter the kind of resistance with scales and a fiery breath. The pace was akin to a brisk walk for the horses.
The ground leveled as they neared the area that Charis had grown up under the careful eye of Grixanthrosilithiss. He had chosen an excellent place to establish his territorial rule. The mountains rose up sharply, giving him a perfect place to establish a home of his own. However, beneath the sharply increasing mountain sides there was a single valley of flat land. It was an ideal village area. Charis had loved its majesty when she was growing up. Now each step closer caused another figurative butterfly to flutter around inside her.
They knew that they were close when they saw the signs of smoke. Charis knew immediately that it was an innocent smoke. It was the smoke of cooking fires and small forges. Yet the spirits of all but Charis lifted as they saw the signs. It meant they were close. On horseback, they were less than a quarter of an hour of riding away.
Ischarus held up a clenched fist and the party came to an immediate halt. “Rhema, you and Semeion tend the horses. Charis and I know the most about Drakontai. We’re going to take a look.”
The plan made sense, at least on the surface level. The light gray figure decided to stay and talk lightly with Rhema and Semeion while the other two left. The canopy above them was thick, so it seemed like a good place to rest. Shortly after dismounting, Ischarus and Charis were out of sight and unable to be heard as they walked through the forest.
Ischarus and Rhema slowly crept up to the village edge. They saw the clearing as it had been only a few months before. The horizontal stone slab still existed as an important icon at the center of the community, although it was now empty and the signs of the earlier battle had easily been erased. The houses were still present in the near circular ring that Charis remembered. Everything seemed as though it had remained the same, almost as if the party’s efforts to disrupt the village had only one effect. It was as if life remained exactly the same with the exception of the disappearance of herself and a few others from her village.
As they looked and crept around the outside of the village only a few feet from the edge of the undergrowth, both Charis and Ischarus stopped at the same time. Their eyes simultaneously fixed on the same location. There was a four foot steel cube hanging from a pole in a slightly off center position within the circle of houses that made up the village. The steel cube had a solid top and bottom. The top of the cube had been painted black. The two sides of the cube that Ischarus and Rhema saw were both solid and also painted black.
With a slow and determined motion, Charis crept around the village enough to be able to get a glimpse of what the object truly was. As the other side came into view she understood. A third face of the steel cube was solid black painted steel. The fourth side had steel bars rather than a solid face. It was a cage, suspended from a pole. There was neither enough room to stand or lay down. Ironically, it reminded Ischarus of the torture device the light gray figure had spoken of being kept in within the goblin village.
Charis commented with a whisper as she noted the device. “It’s a cage. I can’t make out what’s inside. Is it an animal or human inside, can you see?”
Ischarus shook his head. “No clue.” He motioned for Charis to continue moving around.
As she moved, she tried to peer inside. “Painted black to draw the heat of the sun?” Charis questioned her thoughts aloud, speaking through her thoughts more than asking a legitimate question of Ischarus.
Ischarus answered anyway. “Probably a method of torture. It’d make sense for your dragon father to use the sun as a torture device. He is a red wyrm after all.
Charis stopped as the person inside came into view. “No,” she spoke softly. “It can’t be. Not for all this time! Oh, what have I done?”[/Sblock]
Last edited: