Funeris
First Post
Chapter 10: The Truth, The Promise and The Half-Fiend Concluded
Ok...for those of you suffering from tax-day, here's an update for you. The conclusion of this short chapter.
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Fitz. Magnus and Motega leave the Qwynna Pru chapel and stood in the road. The overwhelming greenery of Dun Moor had browned in the fury of the summer drought. Fitz’s eyes roamed up and down the street.
“Calyx could’ve done something about this,” the priest said. “I don’t understand their unrelenting hatred for the druids.” An audible sigh escaped his lips as he turned to walk toward the inn.
“How’d you get her to do it?” Magnus queried. Fitz shot the mage a reproachful glance. “I mean, we heard her screaming in the common room of the parish. Not that we could hear what she was saying,” he quickly added. “Her tone was indicative of non-compliance, however.” Magnus grinned broadly.
“Well, you know. I’m sure she has some goodness in her hear…” Motega cut the Cerian off with a wave of the hand.
“Every whore has her price,” the Rornman hissed. He turned back toward the church and spit. Then, Motega led the others into the inn.
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Sunlight splashed through a half opened window shade onto an old oak table. Motes of dust swirled in the light, dancing as the door to Lady Erigal’s private chambers shut behind the last of the Heroes. The sunlight draped itself across the body of their slain friend, a shining robe of glory.
Lady Erigal sat upon a raised stool at the head of the table, applying a green poultice to Tobias’ brow. Her forest green robes dangled loosely toward the floor, skirting the unpolished wood and awakening the restless motes of dust. She didn’t bother to look up as they came in, concentrating on the task at hand. After the Heroes had taken seats upon chairs she had positioned, she removed the poultice from the table and moved it to her desk.
“I want you take note of what happens here, Master Fitz,” the priestess began. “I want you to behold the endless power of Qwynna Pru. And afterward, once you have seen the glory of the Lifegiver, we can discuss your conversion.” Fitz’s nose twitched.
“First, the decision to return is completely up to your friend. Qwynna Pru cannot force him to return, if he wants to stay in the afterlife. The choice is completely Tobias’ to make. Now, if he does want to return, Qwynna Pru will have a few rules for him to follow.”
“And what might those be?” The Rorn demanded.
“Well, they can only be told in front of the twice-born. Should he choose to return.” Erigal smiled. “Now, I need complete silence for this ritual. So, keep your questions to yourself.” Lady Erigal’s eyes closed as she assumed a cross-legged stance on the stool.
Minutes passed, marked only by the Lady’s quite rhythmic chanting and the Sun’s brightening rays through the window. Motega grew restless quickly but kept focused, if only to slaughter the priestess if she messed up.
Suddenly an explosion of green light filled the room, emanating from Lady Erigal. Her eyes twitched open; iris, pupil and white drowned in an overpowering, luminescent green sea. A palpable aura of divine energy appeared around her lithe body. The green tendrils of Qwynna Pru’s power snaking outward like rapidly growing vines. They arched momentarily toward the window bathing in sunlight before stretching back toward the table. Her robes shimmered and shifted into a beautiful emerald green as the tendrils clamped onto Tobias.
Motega’s knuckles turned white as he grasped the hilt of his sword. Magnus had also jolted backward with his hand fingering his crossbow. Fitz sat, clearly unimpressed with his arms folded across his chest.
The tendrils snaked across Tobias’ cold corpse then reflexively snapped into the air above. For only a split second they hung there quivering, before the tendrils flowed into the warrior’s open mouth.
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Tobias’ head snapped backward and his world spun. Reddel’s form shivered, blurred. Suddenly the violation passed and his sight returned to what he had come to accept as normal. Splotches of green spattered here and there however ruining the silver hue of the light.
“What…what were we talking about?” Tobias’ hand massaged his temples to remove the remaining green splotches.
“Well chosen one, you had asked me the meaning of life.” Reddel smiled.
“And what was your response?” The angel laughed.
“We’re not supposed to know that, child. We are only meant to enforce good. You would do well to remember that. Maybe next time, you’ll keep to your role.”
Tobias grimaced as another searing green light nearly blinded him. He collapsed to his knees on the street they had been walking down. His hands plastered to the side of his head, he wailed in agony.
“That isn’t necessary child, don’t fight it.”
“What….what IS IT?!” Tobias screamed.
“Probably your friends trying to bring you back. They would’ve had to contact one of the imperfect beings to request your return. That is why there is so much pain.”
Tobias loosened his restraint and allowed the green searing light into his vision. He saw the face of a beautiful woman staring into his eyes. Her skin was a vibrant green, with flowers growing from the vines that substituted for hair.
“Your friends request you to return, angel-lover.” Disdain weighed heavily on every word. “There will be a price for your return though.” The goddess impatiently stared the paladin down.
“I don’t know.”
“That is not an acceptable answer mortal. Yes or No will do.” The goddess smirked.
“There is much more you could’ve done child,” Reddel chimed in. “Return if you think you can assist your friends. Just know, you won’t remember much of this, if any. Your questions will remain answered. But ours is not the place to question, just to do.”
Tobias turned back toward the Mistress of Mangroves.
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Tobias’ body snapped upright as he convulsed in a coughing fit. Motega, Fitz and Magnus all stood at once and went to their ally. Lady Erigal moved from her stool to a high-back chair. She slumped down in the seat, the divine power having drained her energy.
Questions bombarded the twice-born warrior. His ears tried to adapt but just felt overwhelmed. He shook his head and pushed everyone back a step. Cautiously he swung his legs over the edge of the table and adjusted to the weight of his body.
Too quickly, he pushed off of the table and his legs, healing but partially atrophied, buckled underneath. His head slammed against the hardwood of the floor. Pain exploded in his skull as a small stream of blood trickled from his nose.
Motega stepped in to assist but Tobias pushed him away. The warrior let his head hang back, laughing through all the pain. More carefully, Tobias grabbed a hold of the table and pulled himself up until standing.
“Now, as you should know Tobias,” the Lady interrupted, “you owe a debt of gratitude to Qwynna Pru. This promise is to be fulfilled in the following ways: First, you are never to travel with the heather druids again.” She paused to assure her words were being memorized. “Second, in the event you come upon a town that is burning druids, you must stop and preach to the town about the treacheries of heathenism.”
“And lastly?” Tobias inquired to speed up his departure.
“Finally, there is a small task that you must undertake. North of this town many of our pilgrims have been attacked by a group of bandits.”
“Simple enough,” the warrior intoned.
“Don’t interrupt me. The bandits work with a,” she nearly shuddered, “half-fiend. This beast’s name is Uzukiel. He’ll be easy enough to spot with the large, curling ram horns that adorn his skull.
“Rumor has it that Uzukiel is making use of an abandoned abbey once used by a sect of Mordites. But the abbey has been empty for centuries. This abbey is built in a hollowed crevice on a mountain. You should find it easily enough as well.”
“Does this abbey have a name?” Magnus asked.
“Since the Mordites turned on their followers and slaughtered every last one of them, the monastery has been known as the Abbey of Sin.” Lady Erigal rested her chin upon her hand as she waited for their next question.
“Anything else I need to know about this Uzukiel?” Tobias already wore his battle-face.
“If you fail he enjoys torture. Oh and his favorite method of execution is disembowelment.” She stopped to relish the surprise on the mage’s face. “That is all. You may go now.” Then the priestess stood and ushered them out the door.
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"I won’t ask you to go,” the warrior stated. “This is my task and I will undertake it alone.”
“Shut up,” Motega ordered. “We’re you’re friends. We’re going with you.”
Tobias patted the Rorn on the shoulder. “Good to see you, too. By the way, where is my gear?” Tobias’ eyes drifted toward the mage.
“Ahh, well,” Magnus stuttered. “I had to sell some of it.” Tobias’ face reddened. “To pay for your resurrection.” Magnus scurried quickly past the warrior and ahead of the Rorn.
Ok...for those of you suffering from tax-day, here's an update for you. The conclusion of this short chapter.
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Fitz. Magnus and Motega leave the Qwynna Pru chapel and stood in the road. The overwhelming greenery of Dun Moor had browned in the fury of the summer drought. Fitz’s eyes roamed up and down the street.
“Calyx could’ve done something about this,” the priest said. “I don’t understand their unrelenting hatred for the druids.” An audible sigh escaped his lips as he turned to walk toward the inn.
“How’d you get her to do it?” Magnus queried. Fitz shot the mage a reproachful glance. “I mean, we heard her screaming in the common room of the parish. Not that we could hear what she was saying,” he quickly added. “Her tone was indicative of non-compliance, however.” Magnus grinned broadly.
“Well, you know. I’m sure she has some goodness in her hear…” Motega cut the Cerian off with a wave of the hand.
“Every whore has her price,” the Rornman hissed. He turned back toward the church and spit. Then, Motega led the others into the inn.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sunlight splashed through a half opened window shade onto an old oak table. Motes of dust swirled in the light, dancing as the door to Lady Erigal’s private chambers shut behind the last of the Heroes. The sunlight draped itself across the body of their slain friend, a shining robe of glory.
Lady Erigal sat upon a raised stool at the head of the table, applying a green poultice to Tobias’ brow. Her forest green robes dangled loosely toward the floor, skirting the unpolished wood and awakening the restless motes of dust. She didn’t bother to look up as they came in, concentrating on the task at hand. After the Heroes had taken seats upon chairs she had positioned, she removed the poultice from the table and moved it to her desk.
“I want you take note of what happens here, Master Fitz,” the priestess began. “I want you to behold the endless power of Qwynna Pru. And afterward, once you have seen the glory of the Lifegiver, we can discuss your conversion.” Fitz’s nose twitched.
“First, the decision to return is completely up to your friend. Qwynna Pru cannot force him to return, if he wants to stay in the afterlife. The choice is completely Tobias’ to make. Now, if he does want to return, Qwynna Pru will have a few rules for him to follow.”
“And what might those be?” The Rorn demanded.
“Well, they can only be told in front of the twice-born. Should he choose to return.” Erigal smiled. “Now, I need complete silence for this ritual. So, keep your questions to yourself.” Lady Erigal’s eyes closed as she assumed a cross-legged stance on the stool.
Minutes passed, marked only by the Lady’s quite rhythmic chanting and the Sun’s brightening rays through the window. Motega grew restless quickly but kept focused, if only to slaughter the priestess if she messed up.
Suddenly an explosion of green light filled the room, emanating from Lady Erigal. Her eyes twitched open; iris, pupil and white drowned in an overpowering, luminescent green sea. A palpable aura of divine energy appeared around her lithe body. The green tendrils of Qwynna Pru’s power snaking outward like rapidly growing vines. They arched momentarily toward the window bathing in sunlight before stretching back toward the table. Her robes shimmered and shifted into a beautiful emerald green as the tendrils clamped onto Tobias.
Motega’s knuckles turned white as he grasped the hilt of his sword. Magnus had also jolted backward with his hand fingering his crossbow. Fitz sat, clearly unimpressed with his arms folded across his chest.
The tendrils snaked across Tobias’ cold corpse then reflexively snapped into the air above. For only a split second they hung there quivering, before the tendrils flowed into the warrior’s open mouth.
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Tobias’ head snapped backward and his world spun. Reddel’s form shivered, blurred. Suddenly the violation passed and his sight returned to what he had come to accept as normal. Splotches of green spattered here and there however ruining the silver hue of the light.
“What…what were we talking about?” Tobias’ hand massaged his temples to remove the remaining green splotches.
“Well chosen one, you had asked me the meaning of life.” Reddel smiled.
“And what was your response?” The angel laughed.
“We’re not supposed to know that, child. We are only meant to enforce good. You would do well to remember that. Maybe next time, you’ll keep to your role.”
Tobias grimaced as another searing green light nearly blinded him. He collapsed to his knees on the street they had been walking down. His hands plastered to the side of his head, he wailed in agony.
“That isn’t necessary child, don’t fight it.”
“What….what IS IT?!” Tobias screamed.
“Probably your friends trying to bring you back. They would’ve had to contact one of the imperfect beings to request your return. That is why there is so much pain.”
Tobias loosened his restraint and allowed the green searing light into his vision. He saw the face of a beautiful woman staring into his eyes. Her skin was a vibrant green, with flowers growing from the vines that substituted for hair.
“Your friends request you to return, angel-lover.” Disdain weighed heavily on every word. “There will be a price for your return though.” The goddess impatiently stared the paladin down.
“I don’t know.”
“That is not an acceptable answer mortal. Yes or No will do.” The goddess smirked.
“There is much more you could’ve done child,” Reddel chimed in. “Return if you think you can assist your friends. Just know, you won’t remember much of this, if any. Your questions will remain answered. But ours is not the place to question, just to do.”
Tobias turned back toward the Mistress of Mangroves.
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Tobias’ body snapped upright as he convulsed in a coughing fit. Motega, Fitz and Magnus all stood at once and went to their ally. Lady Erigal moved from her stool to a high-back chair. She slumped down in the seat, the divine power having drained her energy.
Questions bombarded the twice-born warrior. His ears tried to adapt but just felt overwhelmed. He shook his head and pushed everyone back a step. Cautiously he swung his legs over the edge of the table and adjusted to the weight of his body.
Too quickly, he pushed off of the table and his legs, healing but partially atrophied, buckled underneath. His head slammed against the hardwood of the floor. Pain exploded in his skull as a small stream of blood trickled from his nose.
Motega stepped in to assist but Tobias pushed him away. The warrior let his head hang back, laughing through all the pain. More carefully, Tobias grabbed a hold of the table and pulled himself up until standing.
“Now, as you should know Tobias,” the Lady interrupted, “you owe a debt of gratitude to Qwynna Pru. This promise is to be fulfilled in the following ways: First, you are never to travel with the heather druids again.” She paused to assure her words were being memorized. “Second, in the event you come upon a town that is burning druids, you must stop and preach to the town about the treacheries of heathenism.”
“And lastly?” Tobias inquired to speed up his departure.
“Finally, there is a small task that you must undertake. North of this town many of our pilgrims have been attacked by a group of bandits.”
“Simple enough,” the warrior intoned.
“Don’t interrupt me. The bandits work with a,” she nearly shuddered, “half-fiend. This beast’s name is Uzukiel. He’ll be easy enough to spot with the large, curling ram horns that adorn his skull.
“Rumor has it that Uzukiel is making use of an abandoned abbey once used by a sect of Mordites. But the abbey has been empty for centuries. This abbey is built in a hollowed crevice on a mountain. You should find it easily enough as well.”
“Does this abbey have a name?” Magnus asked.
“Since the Mordites turned on their followers and slaughtered every last one of them, the monastery has been known as the Abbey of Sin.” Lady Erigal rested her chin upon her hand as she waited for their next question.
“Anything else I need to know about this Uzukiel?” Tobias already wore his battle-face.
“If you fail he enjoys torture. Oh and his favorite method of execution is disembowelment.” She stopped to relish the surprise on the mage’s face. “That is all. You may go now.” Then the priestess stood and ushered them out the door.
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"I won’t ask you to go,” the warrior stated. “This is my task and I will undertake it alone.”
“Shut up,” Motega ordered. “We’re you’re friends. We’re going with you.”
Tobias patted the Rorn on the shoulder. “Good to see you, too. By the way, where is my gear?” Tobias’ eyes drifted toward the mage.
“Ahh, well,” Magnus stuttered. “I had to sell some of it.” Tobias’ face reddened. “To pay for your resurrection.” Magnus scurried quickly past the warrior and ahead of the Rorn.
Welcome back, Tobias. Nice finish Funeris.
