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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Cabe Zeree" data-source="post: 2207844" data-attributes="member: 20453">Memories are a powerful thingRexx and Kort work on making a ring for the fire while others gather wood to burn. Noi’nu sits a short distance from the camp, his eyes dart from shadow to shadow as they shift with the setting sun. He watches the ascent from the valley and the ruined city below intently. The night is cool but comfortable, and a slight breeze carries the hint of pine. Once Zee finishes building the fire with the gathered wood, the warm glow removes the chill from the air.The Old Man catches a glimpse of Panaver as he takes a seat near the fire and begins to sketch, but something catches eye in the valley. As the trees sway and rock with the breeze, he’s sure he sees a similar warm gold campfire glow amongst the ruins. He watches the location for a long time before the aromatic smell of cooking meat draws his attention back to his own camp. A pot simmers near the edge of the flame, while Kort and Nara hold skewers of sausage over the flames. Rexx eyes the links, “Sure you don’t want me to hold that lad? You’re arm must be tired as a loth merc after fightin on both sides of the War,” he asks Kort, but the young man just smirks and shakes his head. Zee watches Panaver, the young artist is reclining against a nearby tree, a large smile on his lips. For once, his hands are still and they rest in his lap. The pad of paper he nearly constantly sketches on, and performs so many miracles with, lies at his side. Panaver’s talent constantly awes the githzerai, and he wonders how he was born with such a gift. The young artist notes Zee’s gaze and nods to him. Not being on the move is a pleasure that he’s taking the moment to enjoy. That, and being a help to his new companions, also fills him with happiness. Such an eccentric group of companions, it’s almost too strange to consider. Surely Uncle Kurt never would have guessed this when he handed Panaver his books, and pushed the young man through the portal that landed him in Sigil moons ago. Nara removes the sausage from the flame, slices it up as Panaver directed her to, and tosses it in the bubbling water, along with the other things simmering within. She never heard of “gumbo” before, but Panaver assured her the dish was good, and the simmering rice, spices, and meats start her mouth watering. Nara is also not about to argue with the young artist, since he not only provided the meat to eat, but also the spices, and the cookware everything was cooking in. Quite an amazing talent the lad has, she muses. The woman sits back and glances toward the Old Man. At watch and alone, he seems set apart even when he’s with the group. Yet there is simply something about him, a combination of confidence, nobility, and ancient wisdom, plus a few other feelings she can’t name, that intrigues her. As if he can sense her gaze, his turns his masked face towards the fire, the flames dance on its partially mirrored surface. She smiles and turns her gaze toward the fire. For some reason a song wells up within her, Nara begins to half chant, half sing the tune. It’s a simple song her father taught her, about the road, being tired, living a simpler life, yet being happier than you’ve ever been before. There is no translation from her native tongue, but she still sings. No one else understands the words, but the emotion conveyed through the song is palpable, a small flower of bliss blossoms around the Hinterlands campfire. The gumbo was as amazing as Panaver promised, and everyone eats until fully satiated. Everyone’s mood is light considering what they’ve experienced in the last few days. Kort, Rexx, and Nara share jokes, while Noi’nu and Zee watch the woods, and Panaver remains silent as he eats and sketches the group as they sit around the fire. Nothing disturbs the six, and Noi’nu tells everyone to roll out their packs and get some rest. He’ll take first watch and get Zee to relieve him later. The night deepens. Noi’nu quiets and opens his senses to the forest. The stars provide little light, but his mask allows him to see amazingly will, even with the little light. The woods are alive even at night. Every motion in the wood creates a sound that fills his ears, leaves rustle, branches creak, animals shift in the underbrush, wind sighs as courses through pine needles, and nearby, out of sight, a stream gurgles over worn rocks.   Inhuman, bestial, cries echo up from the valley below, the wind carries them up to Noi’nu along with the sounds of clashing steel. The ranger is on his feet, mutan in his hands. He notes Zee standing a few paces away, bow ready, arrow notched, Rexx crouches near his pack, hands on his knives, and Nara rests on one elbow, while the other hand grips the pommel of her mace. The faint echoes of clashing steel continue, but nothing else in the forest around the six is out of order, the night life doesn’t react to the noises. Below, Noi’nu watches as the valley and ruined city comes alive with ghostly pale lights. Dots of white, pastel yellows, blues, greens, and a myriad of other colors flicker to life beneath the canopy, traverse about the valley and then fade away. It’s like watching the stars as they progress across the night sky. The sounds of combat reach crescendo, and then suddenly the valley erupts in cheering and clapping. Noi’nu counts seven beats of his heart, and then the cheering dies, the forest suddenly returns to its nocturnal silence. One by one the lights in the valley below wink out and disappear. Noi’nu motions everyone back to their places. “Easy, I think its over. I’ll remain on watch, and we’ll talk tomorrow. For now get your sleep, and rest assured Cedric and his ilk probably won’t be doing the same.”      The night passes without any further incidents, and Nara, the last at watch, wakes the camp. As everyone packs up, over a quick cold breakfast, Kort is the first to speak. “What happened last night?” “Those are the ruins you seek down there?” Noi’nu asks looking to Panaver. The young man nods. “Calebas, the minotaur city, I think so.” “Memories are a powerful thing,” Noi’nu says as he shoulders his pack. “They live on, even after those who make the memories pass on.” And I’m living proof, he thinks with a smile. OOC: Phew, long post, sorry it just flowed…maybe more for me writing than you reading, but its there now.What’s the plan Ashy?</blockquote>

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