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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Funeris" data-source="post: 2842729" data-attributes="member: 22792">Chapter 13:  Family, Responsibility, and VoyageThe bodies had rested like slabs of wood in that small church.  Heroes, villains, and those that defied an easy category amounted to a pile of organic matter which filled the tiny structure from wall to wall, door to door.  One body, the most deserving Hero, did not rest in the heap.  It would have been disrespectful to place the remains with the others.Motega was not some unnamed hero or villain.  He had been family.  But his body had been taken, sparing it the disregard it would have collected on the wooden floor.They had rested on the floor of the church until high noon.  Until Magnus summoned another burst of flame to fuel a pyre.  Friend and foe alike were devoured by the flames; those that had escaped a fiery death the first time around.Cochly, the honorable dwarf craftsman, was fed to the pyre.  His axe was wrapped carefully and sent by messenger toward his homeland.  Magnus had written down the valiant details of his death, enclosing it in the package.Timmons, the demanding priest, was fed to the pyre.  His gear—just a wand Fitz had leant him—was returned to the Heroes’ stocks.  The money the priest had demanded in rightful payment was found that morning by Magnus under a fresh spot of earth in the church’s rear yard.  That too rejoined the Heroes’ gear.All of the villains were thrown haphazardly into the hungry flames.  Tobias had grunted with exertion when he hefted the centaur onto his shoulders.  Magnus ordered the paladin to halt.  Tobias had grunted again; his shoulders were straining.  The mage made a cursory bit of notes regarding the Aradeeti tattoos that covered the Rorn’s body before allowing the paladin to feed the fire.One by one, the bodies faded to ash leaving only a heavy odor of singed hair and burnt flesh behind.     *     *     *     Three tankards sat, filled to the brim, untouched on the cluttered table.  It was well after noon and the remaining three had sequestered the Inn for their own uses.  Unable to find ‘Honest’ Abe, one of the remaining townsfolk—a young girl of maybe thirteen with long, blonde hair—rushed around to serve them.They had disallowed any interruptions from the townsfolk.  This was their Inn now, at least for the day.  They had lost enough to convince the people to leave them be.  If that had not done it, their heroics that morning should have sufficed.All of the tables had been pushed to the center of the floor.  There, upon the makeshift banquet table, rested all of the spoils of war.  The pile was huge with armor and weapons, arrows, a few scrolls, a few potions and others of the miscellaneous items men carried to battle.  A crumpled portrait of a homely brunette rested on the side; a picture of a loved one, no doubt.  Death touched everyone.Motega’s gear was piled around Magnus’ position, next to one of the full tankards; next to two empty glasses previous filled with a strong whiskey.  Similar glasses rested next to Fitz and Tobias, all empty.  A decanter rested on the center of the table, also empty.  Previously it had been the home of the strongest whiskey the town had ever produced—a homebrewed concoction named “Drake’s Breath”.  Now, like the Heroes, the decanter was empty.“We’re not getting rid of any of it,” Magnus blurted.  “It’s ours!”  He nearly knocked over the full tankard when his arm twitched in agitation.  It would have spilt upon the newest writ for the King—describing their victory.  “We can’t carry it all,” Tobias advised.  He kicked his head back—still ragged and pink from the devastating flames—destroying the last shot of whiskey.Fitz, the voice of reason, had remained quiet all morning.  He, too, sipped down the last gulp of his whiskey.  But without anything meaningful to add to the exchange, the voice of reason rested.“You’ve got muscles, you can carry it all,” Magnus assured.“Even with your magically enchanted haversacks, I doubt we could carry it all.  We have to leave some of this for the town.”“We’ve already paid them,” the mage growled.“What happened the last time we left a town ill-prepared?” Tobias screamed.  His fists slammed into the table as he stood.  “Do you even remember?!  The town was destroyed!”“They rebuilt.”“Many lives were lost.  I will not see that fate befall another town.  Our enemies would fall upon this place once we have left to destroy it—only to spite us.”“It is just a bunch of weapons,” Fitz murmured.  Tobias paused.  “Weapons in an untrained hand will do no good; just as a mage cannot wield a blade to harvest wheat.”“It’s okay,” Magnus said.  “You’re right.  We have to give them something.”  Tobias let his face drain of anger.  He was exhausted.  The paladin sat down, drawing the tankard across the table.  “Motega’s gear is not left behind,” clarified Magnus.“Agreed,” Fitz and Tobias added in unison.Magnus’ eyes fell to the gear surrounding him.  His eyes watered.  Embarrassed, he reached for the tankard and pulled it to his face.  “Do we even know where we’re going yet?”  His eyes settled again on the gear.  Piled next to Motega’s armor was the shield he had wielded, the shield Motega had painted a Rorn symbol onto with his own blood.  The mage, although unsure of when exactly after the battle, had taken an adamantine dagger and carved the symbol deeply into the metal disc.  It would never fade.  The symbol was permanent now, a part of the shield as it was a part of Magnus.Tobias’s head shook.  Magnus did not notice.“The Baronet’s, I’d suggest,” Fitz said.  “I have no love for Rhelmsmen that abandon their people.”“Justice must be dealt,” Tobias stated grimly.  “He has failed his responsibilities.  I will aide you in delivering justice, priest.”  The familiar flash of holy retribution filled the paladin’s eyes.  Fitz merely nodded in acquiescence.“It is all his fault,” Magnus added.  “If he had taken care of the Culites when they arrived Motega would still be alive.  If he had sent his guards, when we requested, Motega would still be drawing breath.”  Magnus’ eyes darkened with rage.  “We can take care of him now.”All three, as one, stood.“The gear?” Magnus queried.“Take just what you need.  The rest will wait,” Tobias said as he drew his sword.  The paladin lifted the tankard with his left.  He tossed it to the table empty and useless.The young girl had been running about in the kitchen, preparing a simple meal.  At least, that is what they had thought.  She stood now near the door, peering through a nearby window.  Her face was pale as the moon.“What is it girl?”  Tobias demanded.  His grip tightened on the blade.Her mouth moved soundlessly as she stumbled back.  Fitz drew his scythe.  Magnus reached for a scroll.The door flung open; Tobias’ blade lifted high.A silhouette filled the doorway.  It stumbled in, naked, bruised, soaked and dirty.  Motega grinned as his companions’ faces dropped in surprise[1].  “Y-y-you were dead!” Fitz exclaimed.  “Shut your mouth priest before Tobias thinks you’re one of those Galar child-touchers.”  Motega stretched his arm, popping several vertebrae in his back.  They could make out all the fresh, pink scars, including the one that covered his entire neck.  The Heroes even noticed a few tattoos they wish they had not ever seen.  “It’ll take more than that to kill a Rorn.”  Quietly he murmured, “Just a right of passage.”Magnus’ face, previously confused, began to beam.“You didn’t sell all my sh*t did you, mage?!”  Magnus quickly shook his head.  “Good, I’ll need it.  Where we going?”  The Rornman smacked his lips at the young girl, who quickly fell away a pace.  Motega strutted past, unfettered.  He grabbed his armor and began donning it quickly.  “Get me a drink, I’ll not let my family drink without me,” he ordered.  The girl scurried off quickly.Motega’s eyes fell upon the scored shield and he smiled.  “Where we going?” he demanded again.-----------------------------------------------------------------[1] – Motega was dead!  Wait, what the f*ck are you doing?  Heh.  Well, I embellish battles a bit (except for the number of fireballs Magnus dropped) because they would otherwise be extraordinarily boring—for both me to write and you to read.  Besides, I don’t take great combat notes.  So, Motega actually died due to an AoO from the ogre, Fungum.  But he had forgotten to add his +4 (mobility) to that…which would have meant Fungum would have missed.  It took Destan and Hobbit_Killer a week or two to figure that out.After which point Motega rejoined our party.  Hobbit_Killer had prepared another character in the meantime…which makes an appearance in a few updates and becomes a recurring NPC.</blockquote>

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