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[IC] Wandering Star : Heroes of the Middle Reaches (Part One)
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<blockquote data-quote="Sparky" data-source="post: 4747320" data-attributes="member: 13681"><p>Ranver is quiet after the ritual. Gazing at the feather, lost in thought and the echo of power that they had all witnessed, called. </p><p> </p><p>Ranver offers to stay and help with any reconsecration, but the elder priests dismiss him. He finds Little Tatiana asleep on a hard bench near the door down to the cellar. He brushes the hair from her brow and murmurs at her, <span style="color: darkslateblue">"You were very brave today."</span></p><p> </p><p>Nearby, a row of hooks held thin robes for supplicants to wear if they were not (or did not feel) appropriately attired. He took one down and put it over the sleeping girl.</p><p> </p><p>They young priest leaves the temple tower with his friends - comrades-at-arms now. They'd been in scrapes before. But no one had ever landed killing blows. They looked different to him now. Dangerous. How had he not seen it before?</p><p> </p><p>The young priest steps over a puddle and stops. He stares down at his reflection. He is changed too. Old. Ranver is suddenly very tired, his limbs weak and watery. </p><p> </p><p>He had killed today. Borne the never-again-purely-ceremonial instruments of his faith in anger and called down Ioun's power in the red haze of battle. His throat closes and he feels the heat of tears gathering in the bridge of his nose. He swallows. Ranver unneccesarily brushes the hair from his brow and dashes the first tears to appear. He takes a shuddering breath, hoping wildly for more rain so the others wont see.</p><p> </p><p><span style="color: darkslateblue">"Helluva night, eh?"</span> he says weakly. <span style="color: darkslateblue">"I, uh. Why don't we meet for breakfast? The Spirit... 7th bell?"</span> He really couldn't imagine being hungry again. Ever. His mind filled with images of the dying drakes and the Pikers. And the foul, stinking blood of the sea-demon. The wicked tooth-feather.</p><p> </p><p>He was suddenly glad the elder priests had dismissed him, he wanted nothing more to collapse into his cot and pretend he could sleep.</p><p> </p><p>He was about to bid his comrades farewell when they suddenly seemed warm and alive. He didn't want to leave them. The tears rose again.<span style="color: darkslateblue"> <em>No, I've got to sort this out.</em></span> He coughed and swiped at his eyes, muttering something, <span style="color: darkslateblue">"...you... tomorrow."</span></p><p> </p><p>He turns and heads off down a side street, headed not for home, but the Shrine of Ioun.</p><p> </p><p>[sblock=OOC<img src="http://www.enworld.org/forum/images/smilies/devious.png" class="smilie" loading="lazy" alt=":]" title="Devious :]" data-shortname=":]" />I hope the liberties with the NPCs are okay. Let me know if you want anything changed.[/sblock]</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Sparky, post: 4747320, member: 13681"] Ranver is quiet after the ritual. Gazing at the feather, lost in thought and the echo of power that they had all witnessed, called. Ranver offers to stay and help with any reconsecration, but the elder priests dismiss him. He finds Little Tatiana asleep on a hard bench near the door down to the cellar. He brushes the hair from her brow and murmurs at her, [COLOR=darkslateblue]"You were very brave today."[/COLOR] Nearby, a row of hooks held thin robes for supplicants to wear if they were not (or did not feel) appropriately attired. He took one down and put it over the sleeping girl. They young priest leaves the temple tower with his friends - comrades-at-arms now. They'd been in scrapes before. But no one had ever landed killing blows. They looked different to him now. Dangerous. How had he not seen it before? The young priest steps over a puddle and stops. He stares down at his reflection. He is changed too. Old. Ranver is suddenly very tired, his limbs weak and watery. He had killed today. Borne the never-again-purely-ceremonial instruments of his faith in anger and called down Ioun's power in the red haze of battle. His throat closes and he feels the heat of tears gathering in the bridge of his nose. He swallows. Ranver unneccesarily brushes the hair from his brow and dashes the first tears to appear. He takes a shuddering breath, hoping wildly for more rain so the others wont see. [COLOR=darkslateblue]"Helluva night, eh?"[/COLOR] he says weakly. [COLOR=darkslateblue]"I, uh. Why don't we meet for breakfast? The Spirit... 7th bell?"[/COLOR] He really couldn't imagine being hungry again. Ever. His mind filled with images of the dying drakes and the Pikers. And the foul, stinking blood of the sea-demon. The wicked tooth-feather. He was suddenly glad the elder priests had dismissed him, he wanted nothing more to collapse into his cot and pretend he could sleep. He was about to bid his comrades farewell when they suddenly seemed warm and alive. He didn't want to leave them. The tears rose again.[COLOR=darkslateblue] [I]No, I've got to sort this out.[/I][/COLOR] He coughed and swiped at his eyes, muttering something, [COLOR=darkslateblue]"...you... tomorrow."[/COLOR] He turns and heads off down a side street, headed not for home, but the Shrine of Ioun. [sblock=OOC:]I hope the liberties with the NPCs are okay. Let me know if you want anything changed.[/sblock] [/QUOTE]
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