Caerth feels uncomfortable at the thought of killing Hornauer the wererat unprovoked, but his uneasiness at societal etiquette prevents the druid from speaking out. Instead, he looks nervously at his companions, waiting for them to say anything. If nobody does, Caerth sulks for the rest of the day, not saying what is on his mind.
Instead, the half-orc exits the office with the others, then says simply, "Need to do something. Won't be long."
Moving outside, Caerth breathes in the outside air in relief. Whistling into the night, the druid calls to his brown owl Screech and when it lands on a branch nearby, they have a little conversation in hoots and chirps, impossible for outsiders to understand. What is obvious, however, is the fondness between the two creatures, as they recount each other's adventures. Then, Caerth nods suddenly, and stands up while Screech flies away in utter silence like only owls can. The druid starts walking in the same direction, trying to remain as silent but accepting that his footsteps will always be louder than those soft and supple wings.
Lorien watches the big druid go. He senses that Caerth has something important to say to old Aeron, but he doesn't ask. If the half-orc wishes to tell them about it afterwards, Lorien will listen intently. If not, he will respect the druid's privacy, as he's done for Aeron since being in Carnell.
The bard remembers back to that time when Aeron was a youngster... Lorien shakes his head. If Aeron wants Caerth to know about his past, he'll tell Caerth himself.
Phar slips the payment into his pouch and thanks Lord Ebal.
At the words about ousting the Wererat his lips tighten. I suppose it must be done. The tower seemed a fitting enough home for one such as him, but such places cannot abide in sight of civilized lands. "I do not think we have learned all the secrets of the tower. No doubt we will have to return."
As the old lord departs melancholia returns to Phar's face. The lives of humans are so short and yet they accomplish much.
"I agree. There is more to uncover out there," Lorien says. The bard stifles a yawn and realizes that he might actually need more rest than the revery will provide. He is still fatigued from the effects of the centipede's venom. He'll need several days rest before he'll recover completely.
He wanders out of the manor towards the inn.
I hope I get there before I fall over, he thinks. He makes it, barely. The patron, Timmins, helps him up the stairs while Rosie rushes up before them to prepare his room.
"Have someone wake me at dawn," he mumbles to Rosie. "F-for the f-funeral."
"Hush now," Rosie coos while patting him on the cheek. "Rest now."
Scotley said:
Once away he watches Caerth and the Owl, before launching his own winged friend into the air with orders to return to the Gurnard's Arms before first light. The interaction between wizard and hawk is more formal and less affectionate than that of Druid and Owl, but equally close.
Now Raius might I trouble you for a bit of advice. I would find an able fletcher. I find my quiver is nearly bare after our excursion to the tower. I would see it filled again before more trouble is visited upon us.
"We have a small armory here in the manor. I'm sure we can spare a good quiver of arrows. While the arrows won't be magical, the quality is quite good," Raius leads Phar through a doorway and down some stone steps. At the bottom is a short corridor that ends in a locked iron gate. Raius produces a key and unlocks it for Phar. "Mabon Bronzethegn makes all our soldier's arrows. If you want something custom made, he could make you something in about a week. Carnell isn't big enough to have a fletcher. You could travel to Belporte and get something faster, but you'd still have to ride there and back." He rubs his chin thoughtfully. "There is also the garrison at Fort Symas to the west. It has a very skilled fletcher, but it's a military stronghold that caters more to the Senate's soldiers. You'd have to have a writ signed by Lady Pendour."
Raius shrugs his shoulders and enters the small armory. Phar notes that there isn't much in the small room, which is less than 10-feet deep. The young soldier digs through a pile of old leathers and furs until he pulls out a beat up leather quiver that has been tied together with rawhide strips. He unbinds it and presents it to Phar. "I hope these are good enough," he says politely. "They're old but stout."
Phar can see that they are indeed stout. The wood is petrified Ingleoak and the arrowheads are made from the tusk of some ancient animal, a mammoth perhaps. Raius sees that Phar thinks they might be too valuable and holds his hand up to stop Phar from objecting.
"You have asked for my aid and I have given it," he says. "Lady Pendour will not object to you having these arrows. No one has thought to claim them for generations, and they are not dear to the family. The shafts are as good as any I've ever used, and you will find them equal to anything that a smith would make now. While there isn't any magic in them, the arrows are believed to be spiritual in nature. Take them and use them to protect Carnell."
He passes the quiver to Phar.
OOC: The arrows are considered masterwork despite the primitive materials used to craft them.
JustinCase said:
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OOC:
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Caerth is going to Aeron right away. He wants to seek atonement from his mentor, which Cruel Justice has urged him to. Plus, he knows that Aeron will be around few people.
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While Lorien was being helped to bed, Caerth was making his way quickly to Aeron's home beyond the environs of Carnell. The old hermit likes his privacy, but he is never surly towards the locals. Even when young human lads snicker at him and his awkward clothes, Aeron just smiles and paces by them proudly. The man always walks with aplomb but without any sense of arrogance.
He is a humble man who taught Caerth how to be humble. So, it burns in the half-orc's gut that he fell so far from grace in his mentor's eyes that day. The smell of the blood and the combination of thrill and guilt over the dying stag's torment. He never told Aeron what had happened and had put it out of his mind until Cruel Justice had probed his mind. Now, it haunted him and he knew he had to confess.
Aeron greets him warmly as the half-orc druid comes to his mentor's home. It's his home too. He hopes it still will be after he tells Aeron about the stag. The man soon notes Caerth's troubled features. "What is it? Did one of your companions die?
Caerth shakes his head and tells Aeron about Cruel Justice and the vision the sword made him relive. His mentor's face remains stoic while he stands and listens throughout Caerth's tale about the stag and what he did. Once the big druid finishes, the elder man sighs and shakes his head. He looks like he's going to start pacing. Instead he sits in his favorite wooden chair and beckons Caerth sit before him as he once did as a wild and wide-eyed boy.
"I remember the day you came back from that wilderness trek. Something about you was different. I thought it was a new found confidence. I had no idea you had done such a thing. I am disappointed..."
Caerth bows his head in shame.
"No, that is not what I mean, my boy," Aeron says. "Yes, what you did was wrong. You took the life of an animal without cause and you never asked for forgiveness from its spirit. No, I am disappointed in myself. I should have seen the signs. I pushed you so hard. You were not ready for the burdens I had placed on you at such a young age. What happened was my failure too."
Caerth was surprised but not shocked.
"If you wish to confess in front a druidic circle, I will not stop you. But I do not think it is required. What you have to do is ask forgiveness from the stag's spirit. If it accepts your atonement and appears then we shall not speak of it again. If it does not, then I cannot be your mentor any longer." Aeron stands and pats Caerth on the shoulder. "We will deal with this after Lord Pendour has been laid to rest. Lady Pendour has asked me to conduct the service and I feel I cannot refuse her."
Caerth's only father figure exits the small home and heads out into the trees nearby. Caerth knows he must sleep inside as punishment. It is a troubled sleep full of howling and antlers and blood on the snow.
Scotley said:
Once his stock of arrows is replenished he eagerly returns to the inn for a much needed bath and a hearty meal. These needs attended to he bits his companions good evening and retires to his room with a flagon of mulled wine to relax, brush out his long pale hair and read a bit before falling into a revery until an hour before dawn when he rises and reviews his spell books then dresses in freshly laundered clothes for the funeral.
Phar finds Aureus waiting for him outside the manor. She comes along with him to the inn where they find Quinn and Sir Gareth drinking toasts to Lord Pendour and sharing a hearty meal. Phar half expects to find Lorien singing a tune, but Rosie tells him that Lorien was exhausted and had to be carried upstairs and put to bed.
Aureus and Phar look at each other in surprise. The two of them quickly head up the stairs to check on the bard. They find both Timmins and Wilbur watching over him. The bard's breathing is shallow and he is sweating profusely.
Timmins points out burns on Lorien's back and legs. He'd been hurt worse than they'd thought by the monstrous centipede. His skin was paler than it should be. Aureus takes over for the two humans and stays throughout the night. She does her best to make him comfortable.
Once in his room, Phar falls deep into the reverie. He has visions of Lord Pendour fighting and dying on Gurnard's Head. When the man is chained to the signal pole by cloaked figures, his blank eyes turn towards Phar pleading.
"Protect them," he croaks. Then the vision shifts to Pendour Manor. It is burning to the ground and from somewhere inside, Phar hears a woman scream.
He pulls himself from the reverie and goes about his morning routine after checking to make sure the manor
isn't burning down. It isn't. He finds Quinn dozing near the common room's fire with a huge grin on his face. Rosie tells him that no one dared try to carry the big man upstairs just before she dumps a bucket of cold water over Quinn's head. He jerks and snorts awake for a few moments. He looks at Phar and offers to buy the elf a drink before falling back to sleep.
"Don't worry," Rosie says. "He'll be wide awake and clean for the funeral." She goes to prepare a 'tonic' as she calls it and is soon pouring it down the big man's mouth as he slumbers. in a flash and howl, Quinn is standing upright and running around the common room in circles yelling...
"Hot! Hot! Hot!"
Rosie gives him three pitchers of water, which calms the big man's ranting and gut. She forces him into a back room where several of the town's matrons scrub him from head to toe. All the while he yelps,
"Where's my chain!"
One of the matrons shouts back,
"It looks like it shrunk, dearie!"
"That's not funny!"
Rosie laughs and then glances up the stares. She looks at Phar. "I don't think Master Lorien will be attending the funeral. He needs days of rest."
"Nonsense." Lorien's voice is barely audible from the top of the stairs. "I will not dishonor the House of Mornyano by laying in bed while others morn a fallen warrior.
Aureus follows Lorien down the steps. She looks ready to prop him up at any moment. Somehow he manages to get downstairs past Rosie who keeps insisting he needs to rest.
"Tut, tut," Lorien says sheepishly. "I'll be fine. I'll rest more later. I promise."
Rosie tries to object but she just ends up hugging the bard and telling him not to push himself.
Lorien nods and then looks at Phar with a lopsided grin. "It's been ages since I've slept like that. I understand why humans like it so much. It's restful but different. There were no visions, just visual flashes and then wakefulness. I must have a bit of human in me."
+++
The Funeral
"We cannot wait for your father any longer," Aeron says to Sir Ghal Ebal.
Dawn had broken over Carnell more than 20 minutes ago, and all were gathered on a low hill northeast of Pendour Manor, all except for Lord Gar Ebal. The Master Seneschal had not showed up yet, which was causing quite a stir. While the citizens of Carnell respected the surly lord, most of them feared him more. Lady Pendour's face remained calm but her daughter was overtly sullen. Lord Alexander was livid.
"I don't understand it," Sir Ghal replies. "This isn't like him at all. He would never miss something this important."
"Unless he's feeling guilty about something," Lord Alexander snaps.
"Watch your tongue," Sir Ghal growls. "This is not Belporte."
"Obviously," Alexander mocks. "No lord of Belporte would behave so dishonorably."
"Enough!" Aeron shouts. "You both dishonor Lady Pendour and her fallen husband. You will be quiet until I bid you to speak."
"Your Order does not command a lord of Belporte, druid," Lord Alexander says with quiet menace. "Do not forget that."
If the group had not been asked to stand with Lady Pendour and the other dignitaries, they wouldn't have heard any of the conversation except for Aeron's outburst. The gathered crowd murmurs but then falls silent as Aeron steps forward and begins the ceremony. It is a simple affair that beseeches the North Gods to take Lord Peregrine Pendour into fold and find him a place of honor in the afterlife. Lorien sings a dirge for the fallen lord as the lord's body is placed on a funeral pyre. It is lit and the people of Carnell fall to their knees in prayer.
Once it is over, Lord Alexander whisks Lady Melantha away -- back to Pendour Manor. People pester Sir Ghal about his father, and he tries his best to find a reason why his father was absent.
"He is an old man," Sir Ghal exclaims to one woman. "Perhaps this was too much for him!"
His words cutoff the rest of the rumormongers. Lady Pendour bids him to go and find his father to make sure if he is okay. "And if he is, tell him I want to speak to him immediately."
"Yes, Your Ladyship."
As Sir Ghal rushes back toward Pendour Manor, Aeron pulls Caerth and the rest of the group aside. "Go with him. Find out what is wrong. His father might be gruff, but he'd never skip out on something so vital." He notes Caerth's pleading eyes. "The spiritworld can wait if a life might be at risk."
"I'll catch up," Lorien says. "I have to catch my breath."
"No back to bed with you," Rosie orders. "Now!"
"I agree," Aeron insists. "Your family would never forgive me if I let something happen to you."
"Very well," Lorien replies before collapsing to the ground.
Aeron rushes to he bard's side. He looks at the others. "Go! I will watch over your friend."
Caerth obeys his mentor and the others soon follow. The catch up to Sir Ghal just as he enters the manor. He leads the way to his father's room. The room is quiet and empty. The bed looks like it was barely slept in.
"FATHER!"
No answer.
"Where is he?" Sir Ghal rushes through the room looking for any sign. "Castio! Castio, are you here? Where is my father?"
Again, no answer.
"By Hades' beard, where is that page? he should be here attending to the room and... and-."
