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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Sparky" data-source="post: 2181243" data-attributes="member: 13681">Oliver grunts at Nurthk. "Tatlock, boy. You kept your head down. Smart lad." He wanders over to Bastrop, Winkle and his new, and as yet nameless, horse. A critical eye pores over the beasts. "I'm too old for this," he murmurs to them as he soothes the agitated animals. Each gets a treat from Oliver's bundle and he surreptitiously feeds the other horses and dog. He looks sadly at Nurthk, remembering the fine animal that was his friend and loyal dog. The old man's brow furrows and he shambles over to his pack, gnarled hands, usually steady, fumbling with the pack ties. He looks up at Fendric. "The Feast of the Sun Thieves..." he looks down at his hands, filled with with brightly colored bundles fished from the pack saddle, "It's early by two nights, we should stil be fasting..." he says mostly to himself. But I wonder, as the dangers that face our band grow, if I will survive even just tomorrow.He stands, painfully, and makes the rounds to each of the company, saying each name as he hands one and all, even Aerda and Tatlock, one of the bright packages. "It isn't much. But it recalls a time of sacrifice and siege. When the theives of Hedrogura, pardoned by the High Priestess of Pelor," he glances quickly away from Fendric's frank and piercing stare, "Gave their lives to break the siege and free Hedrogura."He looks off east... far to the east, imagining the smoke and wreckage of the now-fallen city, his home. "The High Priestess held the city together with words of hope and strength, and the promise of an end to the siege. But one day, as she preached to the starving people gathered on the temple steps, the sun darkened. Pelor, it seemed, had turned his face away from Hedrogura's plight. Only the priestess' guard saved her from the panicked riot that followed. The temple itself was under siege, being torn apart by the fearful, hopeless mob, and the Priestess was trapped within. Hedrogura would fall."One thief, inspired by the High Priestess' words, or some say by his love for her, girded himself and gathered his closest allies, scoundrels, murderers and cutthoats all. This theif wrote the priestess a letter and had it delievered through the mob surrounding the Temple. By dawn, he promised, with the new day and Pelor's return, she and all of Hedrogura would be free."In the night, several of the Warlord's key officers were killed. Without his lieutenants, the Warlord could not maintain order and the sieging army disappeared like mist in the morning sun. The siege was broken. No one ever saw the theives again. No one, it is said, but the High Priestess. Legend holds that she was shadowed by the thief's ghost until her death, more than two decades later."Each year, on the anniversary of the breaking, the Priestess visited the city's prisons, gave blessings and pardons. She held a feast and invited all who suffered in the darkness of Hedrogura's dank dungeons out to feel the sun and smell the wind. Over time, the city's criminals adopted the custom of ceasing their activities, some even returning stolen property or leaving unasked-for gifts on strangers' doorsteps, for the duration of the fast that led up to the Priestess' feast. The feast of the Sun Rogues."Oliver finishes, eyebrows drawn together, "I had these made in Eivanrach. For you. Who I have come to know closely in our trials. As friends. And for those of you I don't know as well," he glances at Aerda and Tatlock, "I thought ahead." He looks at the others, "Pardon an old man his sentimentality. An old thief."The packages, neatly and carefully wrapped in bright printed paper reveal smallish boxy flutes. Broad and flat, about the width of two fingers, and the length of a hand. When sounded, the flutes have raspy, haunting voices. Each has a sylized engraving on it Hedrogura's distinctive woven style; Fendric's has a blazing sun; Nurthk's a noble dog's head in profile; Raven's a raven clutching arrows; Niccolo's a singing violin; Shavah's a fist and a sword; Hirtius' a shield; Tatlock's and Aerda's have a ring inscribed with a phrase in a difficult script. Oliver translates, "A friend shares meals, memories and misery." He smiles weakly and shrugs, eyes shadowing as he recalls Emmethrach, "Sadly, there are more miseries between us than memorable meals."</blockquote>

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