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<blockquote data-quote="ajanders" data-source="post: 988053" data-attributes="member: 3271">Story updateMy, there's a lot of it.I think I'll need at least one more long post: if it doesn't show up in a week, Black Bard, go ahead and write on anyway.Can't think of a catchy title, unfortunately.Here Goes!...Merres eyed Erion's prostrate form dubiously, then folded his hands in prayer.&quot;Almighty Pelor, please forgive me for what I am about to do.&quot;Then he drove his fist under Erion's ribs.&nbsp; The knight grunted.&quot;Whassis...lemme 'lone, 'snot morning yet.&quot;&quot;Wake up, Sir Erion!&quot;&quot;Donwanna wakeup, wanna shleep...'shnice to shleep.&quot;Merres took a deep breath and recited four verses of a Pelorian hymn to calm his nerves.&quot;Almighty Pelor, please forgive me again, even more, for what I am now about to do.&nbsp; And please grant me your strength, because Sir Erion is a very heavy man.&quot;Merres dragged Erion's legs off the edge of the bed and let them drop to the ground, then hoisted Erion up until he sat on the edge of the bed.&nbsp; He hauled the washstand over, then hoisted Erion back into his sitting position.&nbsp; Merres looked unhappily at Erion's drunken form again and sighed.&quot;Here we go..&quot;He seized the back of Erion's head and thrust it into the washbasin.&nbsp; A stream of bubbles rose to the surface.&quot;One...two...three.&quot;He lifted Erion's head out of the basin.&nbsp; Coughs indicated Erion was returning to his duty.&quot;One, two, three!&quot;Merres immersed him again.&nbsp; More bubbles arose, and Erion began to flail his arms and legs.&quot;One, two, three!&quot;Merres pulled his head out again.&quot;I'm up, dammit, I'm up!&quot;Merres did not count this time, but retained a firm grip on Erion's head in case further immersion was necessary.&quot;Sir Erion, Inquisitor Hearn sends his compliments and requests your attendance aboard the Bringer of Dawn immediately.&nbsp; Your skills are urgently needed.&quot;Erion shook his head free from Merres grasp.&quot;Really?&nbsp; Usually the sanctimonious old bastard likes me not to use my skills.&nbsp; What's changed his mind?&quot;Merres bit his lip and took a deep breath.&nbsp; &quot;Inquisitor Hearn did not give me that information, sir.&quot;&quot;Well that's interesting, then.&nbsp; He's finally found a witch he didn't like.&nbsp; Or a warlock.&quot;He stood up and stretched luxuriantly.&quot;I suppose I'd better get myself equipped, then.&nbsp; Run along, youngster.&nbsp; This is man's work here.&nbsp; I'll be along once my gear's in shape.&quot;Merres left without a word.A set of bagpipes was walking down the hall.&nbsp; Merres blinked in astonishment, then realized the bagpipes were being carried by a very little girl.&nbsp; She smiled at him and offered them up.&quot;Do you need these?&quot;Merres blinked again.&nbsp; &quot;No, I don't think so.&quot;The little girl nodded solemnly.&nbsp; &quot;I'll put them back then.&quot;&quot;That's probably best.&quot;The little girl turned around and staggered back down the hall under the bagpipes.&nbsp; Merres stood for a moment, then caught up with her.&quot;Why would I need bagpipes?&quot;&quot;That man was very sleepy.&nbsp; I thought those might wake him up.&nbsp; Uncle Corh says those darned screechers are loud enough to raise the dead from heck.&quot;&quot;He does, does he?&quot;&nbsp; &quot;Well, those aren't the real words he uses.&nbsp; Mommy won't let me say the real words.&nbsp; You have blood on your face.&quot;&quot;That's probably good.&quot;&nbsp; Merres responded, touching his lip.&nbsp; &quot;About the words, I mean.&quot;&nbsp; He studied the blood on his finger.&quot;Did you get hurt when the bad lady set the temple on fire?&nbsp; Is that what made your face bleed?&quot;&quot;No.&nbsp; I wasn't there.&quot;&quot;You should wash your face.&quot;&quot;Yes I should.&nbsp; And you should go to sleep.&quot;&quot;You have to tuck me in first.&quot;&quot;Shouldn't your daddy be tucking you in?&quot;&quot;Daddy's busy downstairs.&nbsp; But you can do it, because you work for Pelor.&quot;&quot;I guess that's a good reason.&quot;Merres picked the girl up and tucked her under his arm.&quot;How did you know I worked for Pelor?&quot;&quot;I saw you carry his flail in the parade.&quot;Merres mind reeled at the upcoming thelogical pitfall.&quot;That was just a priest, little girl.&nbsp; Pelor himself is not here.&nbsp; He sends his servants instead.&quot;The little girl nodded with satisfaction.&nbsp; &quot;I thought Pelor would be taller.&nbsp; My bedroom has the red door.&quot;Merres nodded, not trusting himself to open his mouth, and pushed the door ajar with his foot.&nbsp; The bed was against the far wall.&nbsp; He dropped her in it and turned on his heel.&quot;Wait!&quot;There was real panic in the voice.&nbsp; &quot;Can you look to see if there are any monsters under the bed?&quot;Merres sighed... she was only five years old, and already she was ordering men around.&nbsp; It could be a long night.***Rusty Whelon whispered the words of his invisibility spell and crept quietly up the gangplank.&nbsp; The marine standing guard remained firmly at attention, watching over the side of the ship for thieves or enemies.&nbsp; Rusty admired that kind of soldierly discipline: he'd learned the hard way how painfully dull sentry duty could be in the world of Libya.&nbsp; He was especially impressed at the orderly way the sentry collapsed when struck vigorously with an axe handle.Rusty gently set his improvised club down and catfooted towards the stern of the boat, gun drawn.&nbsp; Father Hearn was sitting out on the deck, hands folded in his lap, a heavy comforter wrapped around his shoulders.&nbsp; Rusty breathed a sigh of relief:&nbsp; this could have been much harder.He brought the gun up and took a deep breath, held it, and was just about to release it when the wrath of Pelor dropped out of the masts and landed on his head.The wrath of Pelor was represented that night by Sir Kenton, a man of nearly 250 pounds in his court clothes, more when armored for battle.&nbsp; Rusty crumpled to the deck under his weight.&nbsp; He was just beginning to get his wind back when Sir Kenton smashed him twice in the face with a gauntleted fist, knocking him unconscious.Sir Kenton hit him once more in the jaw for good measure, then stood up, holding his side. Father Hearn stood, the comforter falling to his feet to reveal the chain mail he was wearing.&quot;Has your wound broken open, Sir Kenton?&quot;</blockquote>

[QUOTE="ajanders, post: 988053, member: 3271"] [b]Story update[/b] My, there's a lot of it. I think I'll need at least one more long post: if it doesn't show up in a week, Black Bard, go ahead and write on anyway. Can't think of a catchy title, unfortunately. Here Goes!... Merres eyed Erion's prostrate form dubiously, then folded his hands in prayer. "Almighty Pelor, please forgive me for what I am about to do." Then he drove his fist under Erion's ribs. The knight grunted. "Whassis...lemme 'lone, 'snot morning yet." "Wake up, Sir Erion!" "Donwanna wakeup, wanna shleep...'shnice to shleep." Merres took a deep breath and recited four verses of a Pelorian hymn to calm his nerves. "Almighty Pelor, please forgive me again, even more, for what I am now about to do. And please grant me your strength, because Sir Erion is a very heavy man." Merres dragged Erion's legs off the edge of the bed and let them drop to the ground, then hoisted Erion up until he sat on the edge of the bed. He hauled the washstand over, then hoisted Erion back into his sitting position. Merres looked unhappily at Erion's drunken form again and sighed. "Here we go.." He seized the back of Erion's head and thrust it into the washbasin. A stream of bubbles rose to the surface. "One...two...three." He lifted Erion's head out of the basin. Coughs indicated Erion was returning to his duty. "One, two, three!" Merres immersed him again. More bubbles arose, and Erion began to flail his arms and legs. "One, two, three!" Merres pulled his head out again. "I'm up, dammit, I'm up!" Merres did not count this time, but retained a firm grip on Erion's head in case further immersion was necessary. "Sir Erion, Inquisitor Hearn sends his compliments and requests your attendance aboard the Bringer of Dawn immediately. Your skills are urgently needed." Erion shook his head free from Merres grasp. "Really? Usually the sanctimonious old bastard likes me not to use my skills. What's changed his mind?" Merres bit his lip and took a deep breath. "Inquisitor Hearn did not give me that information, sir." "Well that's interesting, then. He's finally found a witch he didn't like. Or a warlock." He stood up and stretched luxuriantly. "I suppose I'd better get myself equipped, then. Run along, youngster. This is man's work here. I'll be along once my gear's in shape." Merres left without a word. A set of bagpipes was walking down the hall. Merres blinked in astonishment, then realized the bagpipes were being carried by a very little girl. She smiled at him and offered them up. "Do you need these?" Merres blinked again. "No, I don't think so." The little girl nodded solemnly. "I'll put them back then." "That's probably best." The little girl turned around and staggered back down the hall under the bagpipes. Merres stood for a moment, then caught up with her. "Why would I need bagpipes?" "That man was very sleepy. I thought those might wake him up. Uncle Corh says those darned screechers are loud enough to raise the dead from heck." "He does, does he?" "Well, those aren't the real words he uses. Mommy won't let me say the real words. You have blood on your face." "That's probably good." Merres responded, touching his lip. "About the words, I mean." He studied the blood on his finger. "Did you get hurt when the bad lady set the temple on fire? Is that what made your face bleed?" "No. I wasn't there." "You should wash your face." "Yes I should. And you should go to sleep." "You have to tuck me in first." "Shouldn't your daddy be tucking you in?" "Daddy's busy downstairs. But you can do it, because you work for Pelor." "I guess that's a good reason." Merres picked the girl up and tucked her under his arm. "How did you know I worked for Pelor?" "I saw you carry his flail in the parade." Merres mind reeled at the upcoming thelogical pitfall. "That was just a priest, little girl. Pelor himself is not here. He sends his servants instead." The little girl nodded with satisfaction. "I thought Pelor would be taller. My bedroom has the red door." Merres nodded, not trusting himself to open his mouth, and pushed the door ajar with his foot. The bed was against the far wall. He dropped her in it and turned on his heel. "Wait!" There was real panic in the voice. "Can you look to see if there are any monsters under the bed?" Merres sighed... she was only five years old, and already she was ordering men around. It could be a long night. *** Rusty Whelon whispered the words of his invisibility spell and crept quietly up the gangplank. The marine standing guard remained firmly at attention, watching over the side of the ship for thieves or enemies. Rusty admired that kind of soldierly discipline: he'd learned the hard way how painfully dull sentry duty could be in the world of Libya. He was especially impressed at the orderly way the sentry collapsed when struck vigorously with an axe handle. Rusty gently set his improvised club down and catfooted towards the stern of the boat, gun drawn. Father Hearn was sitting out on the deck, hands folded in his lap, a heavy comforter wrapped around his shoulders. Rusty breathed a sigh of relief: this could have been much harder. He brought the gun up and took a deep breath, held it, and was just about to release it when the wrath of Pelor dropped out of the masts and landed on his head. The wrath of Pelor was represented that night by Sir Kenton, a man of nearly 250 pounds in his court clothes, more when armored for battle. Rusty crumpled to the deck under his weight. He was just beginning to get his wind back when Sir Kenton smashed him twice in the face with a gauntleted fist, knocking him unconscious. Sir Kenton hit him once more in the jaw for good measure, then stood up, holding his side. Father Hearn stood, the comforter falling to his feet to reveal the chain mail he was wearing. "Has your wound broken open, Sir Kenton?" 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