Upgrade your account to a Community Supporter account and remove most of the site ads.

Reply to thread

Message: <blockquote data-quote="PieAndDragon" data-source="post: 3636434" data-attributes="member: 18108">Saying GoodbyesDrake would not speak to me for a couple of hours after becoming conscious once more. But something of the manner of my companions struck me as slightly out of place. They seemed more concerned that my weapon had killed an ally in melee, than by the death of Khaki herself. As we laid the tinder for a burial pyre, it became more clear as to why.The Humakti consider death a holy thing, and also a one time thing. When they die, they have been told of a glorious afterlife awaiting them, filled with revelry and constant celebration, their every desire fulfilled. They are the only cult I know of which will not bring their dead back to life, under any circumstances. Which brings us to the death of our companion. Or the second death, so I found out.For Khaki had died in battle against baboons, once before, and been brought back from the dead by her cult. It was the same battle in which Drake lost an arm, and two others who travelled with them perished. A priestess of Savanka had pulled in some favours, and Khaki had risen to fight for her cult once more. We had in fact, repaid her debt by retrieving the helmet all the way from Balazor. And Hoisin, as a more than fervent follower of Humakt, did not approve of his companions’ continued life. Not that that mattered any more.As we burnt our small companion’s form, we spoke of our adventures and times together. I remembered the breakfasts she had made, the kindnesses she had shown, and the times she had stood stalwart in battle. Liverpate had known her for longer than, having journeyed into the troll lands, alongside my cousin Teal. He recounted battles against boar-riding bandits, inside giant dinosaurs and the many nights drinking both had shared.But it was Drake and Hoisin who had known her from the beginning. They spoke in turns, bringing to life many times share together, in dens of rubble runners, in the caves of rainbow colours and shepherd’s villages, fighting gigantic rock lizards, desperate bandits, hulking trolls, ravenous wolves, diseased broo, stone gargoyles and worse. They spoke of other, quieter times, of her resilience and grim determination. They gave her a sending off she could be proud of.When the fire died, we knelt among the ashes, letting the wind carry them away to distant realms. By the end, my tears were spent, and my heart could begin to heal.It would take my mind far longer to do so, as guilt is a heavy burden.</blockquote>

Verification