Midnight: A Lost Faith's Shadow. Book 1, The Awakening. Chapter 1, The Charge

[Toric_Arthendain]

Valurel sinks to the floor, his back resting against one of the solid stone and dirt walls of the cavern. He is worried about the black pit, not wanting to even imagine what might lie within. He and his companions are in no shape to face further dangers at the current time. He lets his exhaustion overcome him, leans back against the wall and closes his eyes.

 

[Bobitron]

Kaela takes out a thin, flat-tipped knife that is normally used for cutting the delicate roots of herbs and scrathes it along the limestone-encrusted blade, attempting to reveal the runes. "The blade. It has markings beneath the crust. Maybe if I can scrape some away..."

 

[Krug]

"Rest," says Starhl, self-evidently to the others. He keeps watch.

 

[Hrothgar]

Aislinn sits silently, her ears straining as they communicate to her the story unfolding around her. Near her, Kaela kneels by the long-dead Dorn, scraping at the encrusted blade. With a sharp "click" a large chunk of limestone breaks off suddenly, Kaela's fingers accidently sliding along the blade. Looking at her fingers and the drops of blood that form, Kaela is amazed the blade has kept its edge after all these years. Brushing away the limestone chips, Kaela notes the bold runes are Dorn in origin, much like runes she has seen on ancient Dorn structures, but totally unlike the elegant, flowing script on the ruins in the room.

OOC: I've checked characters in the Rogues Gallery and it does not look like anyone is literate!

Starhl sits quietly, his massive body just glad to finally rest. Like the unforgiving north, he does not complain, he just accepts. His eyes glance over the motley crew. How much his life has changed in just a few hours. A few hours? Impossible to tell in this darkness. It might have been several days for all he could tell. His eyes drift to the girl Aislinn, already drifting off, her young body spent. What is her story? What is so precious about her that the Shadow would destroy an entire village to capture her? Was he foolish to put all his trust in protecting her? And what is this "goddess" she speaks of? Strange no one else has dared question her and the motives of the villagers of Caft to hide her.

Valurel, finally overcome by his wounds and the aching march through Northern Eredane's underground, drifts into sleep...

A human girl runs before him, her long brown hair trailing. Who is she? He calls, but she continues to run. He must catch her before she hurts herself. His breath comes in gasps, his legs leaden. He cannot catch her. Dark shadows begin to gather around her, her form beginning to fade from his vision. No! She is being taken from him. Nothing he can do. Run! Run! Run! No! A cliff..falling...falling...the girl...gone...

Valurel stands on a mountain. Tall and cold. The wind in his hair. Touching the sky. Below him stretches a green sea. The Veradeen. To the west, golden rays of a setting sun pierce a black cloud bank over the western ocean. Under the dark clouds lies the girl. She is dead. Her skin a pasty white. Passing over her the clouds break on the Veradeen and the green sea to the south, bringing a soaking rain, strengthening the forest. The emerald forest. Valurel throws his head back, his face spattered by the life-giving rain...

 

[Krug]

Starhl turns to the girl, growling. "Who are you? You must tell us more. Why villagers Caft protect? Who is goddess?"

I'm a Barbarian. We're all illiterate.

 

[Dirigible]

Jon Rane

Concentrating on keeping his legs moving at a regular pace, Jon doesn't respond to Kaela with anything more than a warm, if crooked smile. The pace, slow as it is, is enough to turn his body into a drumhead of pain, every tap beating a gentle rhythym. Even through the skin of dirt, Jon can see that he is changing colour, his skin becoming a pulpy blue-black that would make any Sarcosan look anaemic.

When they reach the hall, Jon, like Valurel, simply slumps against a pillar, his face twisted into a miserable grimace. His legs quiver and bend, his spine grinding down the column until his backside plonks down to the packed earth. His head drooping from fatigue, Jon watches Kaela, Aislen and Starhl, the upright ones, examining the room in their own ways.

"By the way, in case I forgot to mention it earlier... my name is Jon Rane, and I am at your service. Not that I normally make a point of throwing myself in front of rampaging orcish sty, but it looked like you could use an extra body"

Waiting for the others to introduce themselves, if so inclined, his gaze wanders to Aislinn. For a moment, the old man's voice echoes in his head: Protect her Chosen.

Jon shivers, and it isn't all to do with the chilled slush covering his clothes and body.

 

[Hrothgar]

Aislinn's head raises slowly from her chest, vaguely comprehending that her name was called. She moves her head, left to right, her ears gauging the environment around her.

I am Aislinn, daughter of Uriel, spokesman of Caft. Her voice quavers at the mention of her dead father. My village...my family protected me out of hope for a better future. A hope that I was chosen for some greater purpose. By the goddess who lives in the ancestor ring. Her last statement comes with pride.

In the spring, I was searching for a lost calf for my father. I was on the eastern edge of the forest outside of Caft at dusk when I saw the green glow over the ancestor ring. In the darkening evening I was afraid, my father's words of warning about the fell things that lurk amongst the stones at night. But, the green light drew me. I could not resist. I can't explain it. Her voice fades slightly, her mind's eye remembering the spring night. It was cold, but I didn't seem to notice. I climbed amongst the stones searching for the source of green light. I found it. Awe begins to fill her voice. She came to me, cloaked in the green light. A woman. Maybe an elf. I did not see her long. I went blind. Her hands hover in front of her eyes, before brushing back her hair. What do you expect when you gaze upon a goddess? She spoke to me, telling me that she had awaken from her deep slumber. She was angry. Very angry at how the Shadow had ravaged the land. She said she would be the light that would drive back the Shadow. Aislinn stops, her face expressionless, her mind reliving that cold spring night.

Anyway, the villagers found me the next day, sick and cold. Kaela nursed me back to health. Aislinn smiles. No one believed me of course. Until I started to remove hurts and heal scars. I could also talk to the land, sense its anger and pain. And I could bring the blessing of the goddess, because, like she told me, I am one of her Chosen.

 

[Hrothgar]

Morn Sigil

The black clouds and heavy rain had followed the Shadow-warriors into Caft. The Shadow-warriors had moved quickly and efficiently into Caft, razed the village, and spread out searching the surrounding land. For what? For whom? Morn did not care. It was an opportunity to kill orcs. Blood Mothers from their look.

It was the legate on the black destrier that forced Morn to pause. This was no lowly legate. This was a man of power, the essence of Shadow itself clinging to the priest. Morn had fled, but not before slicing an orc's throat. Losing himself in the northlands was easy with the heavy rains, obscuring his spoor from any Shadow-trackers. Moving in small packs, the Shadow-warriors were criss-crossing the lands, running with their incredible endurance and strength, hoping to run down whatever quarry they were chasing. Their paths forced Morn many miles from Caft before he had sought refuge early in the morning in a small stand of pine. There he found shelter in a small cave opening. Looking out into the dark weather, Morn wondered when the orcs would reach here too.

 

[Micar Sin]

Morn Sigil

Quickly uncoiling his rope Morn lashes a thick pine branch back almost to it breaking point, setting it to lash out when someone blunders into it.

Happy that his work is well concealed Morn wiped a small trickle of moisture from his neck and drew his cloak tightly about him before slipping back into the darkness of the cave, looking for an appropriate hiding place from which to shed orcish blood....


OOC: Craft Traps +3

 

[Krug]

"Good story. I understand," says Starhl. The barbarian wonders why he has been selected to take part in this, but knows he has to defend the child unto death.