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Tæün: Reflections (Updated 11-1-04)
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<blockquote data-quote="Hjorimir" data-source="post: 1499911" data-attributes="member: 5745"><p><strong>7 – Elephants Never Forget</strong></p><p><strong>(Égun says, “What’s an elephant?”)</strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>Wrensford, Darion’s March</strong></p><p>Lazzaro sighed inwardly as he considered the motley band he found himself with. The priest, Father Aramon Botan, would no doubt prove to be useful if he could actually call upon the power of God. He’d heard tales of the miraculous things that some of the faithful, or ‘channelers’ as they were called, could do but had never actually witnessed anything remotely miraculous in his life. (There was a certain young courtesan in Athros he knew, but it wasn’t exactly the same thing.) That, coupled with the fact that Aramon was under the aspect of Merlutat, the Angel of Death, put the cleric firmly in the category of <em>risky investments</em>.</p><p></p><p>The Northman, Álfarr, was worse in Lazzaro’s mind. The Fjoti were known as an unpredictable people who were prone to sudden outbursts of uncontrollable rage that often resulted in needless violence and, worse still, death. He placed Álfarr squarely in the category of <em>possible liabilities</em>.</p><p></p><p>As a Cyrdion Knight, Sur Trevier was undoubtedly a model gentleman and proficient soldier. The Preceptory of the Church, which was comprised of various Orders of Knighthood that were sworn to uphold the Orthodoxy, had a long, prestigious history of heroic figures that usually ended up sacrificing themselves time and time again in order to protect the Church; a fate that Lazzaro found to be ultimately tragic. But none of that really concerned him. What concerned him about the knight was the embodiment of the Church’s strict high ideals and moral code. </p><p></p><p>Lazzaro considered himself a good enough person overall, but in his line of work one had to make certain <em>adjustments</em> and <em>allowances</em> in order to prosper or even survive. Needless to say, involvement with the Æhüthians could become sticky for the young entrepreneur. He would have to drop the knight off with Ewart Jardine as soon as possible and then get back to work. So, Sur Trevier was haphazardly tossed into the <em>expendables</em> bin.</p><p></p><p>Égun, however, was a solid investment in almost every sense of the word. He would certainly prove to be a brutally efficient fighter and, better yet, enthusiastic about the bloody work that lay ahead. The reputation of the Rithmílidh preceded him and Lazzaro felt confident that the clansman would live up to the expectations. He defined the highlander as the <em>strongest asset</em> in his portfolio. There was only one downside to Égun…</p><p></p><p>Tríona, who was certainly easy on his eyes, seemed to be completely useless. Not only did she not speak the local language she was a constant distraction to her valuable cousin. While Égun had insisted she would prove useful and could “cook n’ stuff,” Lazzaro couldn’t help but feel like he was throwing away valuable silver retaining her employment. Regardless, she wasn’t the first <em>write-off</em> Lazzaro had had in his career and certainly wouldn’t be his last. After considering the woman a bit longer, he counted her as a <em>retaining fee</em> for his <em>strongest asset</em>.</p><p></p><p>His accounting for the day completed, Lazzaro prepared to introduce the lot of them to Ewart, whose house they were now approaching.</p><p></p><p>The house was, in fact, more of a mansion. Complete with a five-foot wall of stone that encompassed a pleasant flower garden and a beautifully sculpted water fountain in the form of a mermaid that emptied a seemingly endless decanter of water into a pool below.</p><p></p><p>Seeing the group as they arrived, one of three gardeners quickly made his way up to the house to inform the staff that they had visitors.</p><p></p><p>As they made their final approach, Ewart stepped out onto the porch to greet them.</p><p></p><p>“Well if it isn’t my <em>good</em> friend, Lazzaro!” the older businessman called.</p><p></p><p>Something about the way Ewart had stressed the word ‘good’ put Lazzaro on edge. He’d known the man for quite sometime now, but something seemed to be bothering his partner. As the target of the conversation, Lazzaro assumed that he must somehow be the culprit.</p><p></p><p>“I trust I find you in good health, Ewart,” Lazzaro said cautiously.</p><p></p><p>Ewart gave Lazzaro a very firm handshake, squeezing a bit more than necessary. “Who are your friends, Laz?”</p><p></p><p>“Ah, these fine people are here to assist us with the clearing of the road so we can get back to business.”</p><p></p><p>Hearing this, Ewart perked up and smiled. “Excellent!”</p><p></p><p>“Let me introduce, Álfarr of the Hiemalmark, Father Aramon Botan of Aranarth, Égun and Tríona of Ondria, and Sur Trevier of Arlies.”</p><p></p><p>Hearing his queue, Trevier stepped forward, “Greeting Master Jardine, I have been sent by the Most Reverend Clément Rousseau, Bishop of Ermione and was wondering if we might discuss this unfortunate business of orcs and any ideas you may have about resolving the crisis.”</p><p></p><p>“Of course, of course. I do have some business to attend to this day, but you all should come back this eve and we will share a fine dinner and discuss all such matters.” As soon as he said it though, Ewart regretted it. He looked upon the two Eduni covered in mud and muck and thought of his fine, imported furniture.</p><p></p><p>Sensing his thoughts, Trevier added, “That would be splendid. It will also give us an opportunity to clean up. I apologize that we are so disheveled at the moment.” In honesty, the knight was at somewhat of a loss as to how he could explain the clansmen’s appearance and utter lack of propriety.</p><p></p><p>“Speaking of business,” Ewart said as he turned back to Lazzaro, “Lysette is a bit…disappointed that you didn’t call on her last eve.”</p><p></p><p>“That’s it!” Égun exclaimed. “I remember now!” Nonchalantly, the clansman walked up behind Lazzaro and loudly whispered, “I have a message for you, Laz.”</p><p></p><p>Lazzaro groaned pitifully and shooed Égun away. “Please understand, Ewart, that I had to secure soldiers to drive off the orcs as a top priority. While nothing would please me more than the company of your lovely daughter, it would be irresponsible of me to fritter away precious time while our business is at a standstill.”</p><p></p><p>[<em>Damn, I’m smooth.</em>]</p><p></p><p>Nodding in complete understanding, Ewart smiled. “Of course, Lazzaro. I’m sorry, she should be more understanding of a man’s work and I applaud your attention to enterprise. Perhaps you could use this afternoon to visit with her?”</p><p></p><p>While it was posed as a question, Ewart wasn’t really looking for an answer. The instructions were as clear as a profit margin to Lazzaro. “Absolutely! It was what I had hoped for from the start.”</p><p></p><p>“I thought he said we’re going to kill orcs?” Égun asked.</p><p></p><p>“Quiet you.” Álfarr admonished with a chuckle of his own.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p><strong>The Golden Tankard</strong></p><p>With Lazzaro sharing a pleasant afternoon with the lovely Lysette and Trevier off at the local chapel for some much needed prayer time before once again meeting with the reeve, the others returned to the inn for what they hoped would be a quiet afternoon of drinking and general laziness.</p><p></p><p>Not two hours had passed before Merla, the bar wench, came to Aramon. “Sir priest…”</p><p></p><p>“Just Father will do. What can I do for you, child?”</p><p></p><p>“Sorry, Father. A woman from town is most distraught and is asking to speak with you. We’ve taken her to a private room if you’d like to see her.”</p><p></p><p>Aramon stood. “Of course, please show me the way.”</p><p></p><p>Merla brought Aramon to a back room where an elderly woman was crying with a frightened child clinging to the hem of her dress.</p><p></p><p>“Aida, this is Father Aramon,” Merla said introducing the cleric.</p><p></p><p>“Thank you, Merla, please excuse us,” Aramon said and gestured towards the door with a pleasant smile.</p><p></p><p>Merla gave a curtsey and excused herself as she closed the door behind her.</p><p></p><p>Aramon gave a smile and placed a hand upon the head of the child before looking back to Aida. “What troubles you?”</p><p></p><p>“They took him!” she blurted. “They’ve taken my husband and now he is gone!” At that, she started sobbing even harder.</p><p></p><p>“Please, child, calm yourself and explain to me the whole of the matter. Who has taken your husband and how can I help? Are there no guards?”</p><p></p><p>“No, no. You don’t understand!”</p><p></p><p>If Aida expected a response at that she was to be disappointed. Aramon simply sat down and patiently waited for her to explain. He had no small experience, of course, in listening to all manner of complaints and pleas of those in need and had learned some time ago when to speak and when to listen.</p><p></p><p>Aida went on. “My husband had been killed in one of the ambushes while he was working as a caravan guard. I brought our son, Kade, to the cemetery to pay our respects and where my husband was buried there is nothing but a gaping hole!”</p><p></p><p>Now very interested, Aramon stood once again. “A hole, you say? Can you show me?”</p><p></p><p>“Of course, Father. Come with me.”</p><p></p><p>As the three of them hurriedly made their way to leave, Álfarr stopped them in the common room. “Is there trouble?”</p><p></p><p>Hearing the word trouble brought Égun over as well as he didn’t want to be left out of anything that just might be ‘fun.’</p><p></p><p>“It seems that this widow’s husband has gone missing,” Aramon explained. “She is taking me to the cemetery so that I may investigate.”</p><p></p><p>”Alright!” exclaimed Égun. “I’m coming too!”</p><p></p><p>Aramon sighed at the callous barbarian. He wanted nothing more than to leave the clansman behind, but was wise enough to know that he may be walking into danger. “Very well, though I’d have you mind your manners and remain quiet.”</p><p></p><p>“Oh, you know me! It won’t be a problem!” Égun smiled.</p><p></p><p>Aida motioned for Aramon to step aside before speaking to him. “Father, can we trust these… <em>pagans</em>?”</p><p></p><p>“I assure you, they will be fine,” Aramon said. </p><p></p><p>[<em>Father, let me be right.</em>]</p><p></p><p>Égun grabbed up Tríona and they all made their way outside. Dark, angry skies looked down upon Wrensford as thunder roared in the distance. Determined, the group made its way out of town towards the cemetery that loomed upon a shady hill.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Hjorimir, post: 1499911, member: 5745"] [b]7 – Elephants Never Forget (Égun says, “What’s an elephant?”) Wrensford, Darion’s March[/b] Lazzaro sighed inwardly as he considered the motley band he found himself with. The priest, Father Aramon Botan, would no doubt prove to be useful if he could actually call upon the power of God. He’d heard tales of the miraculous things that some of the faithful, or ‘channelers’ as they were called, could do but had never actually witnessed anything remotely miraculous in his life. (There was a certain young courtesan in Athros he knew, but it wasn’t exactly the same thing.) That, coupled with the fact that Aramon was under the aspect of Merlutat, the Angel of Death, put the cleric firmly in the category of [i]risky investments[/i]. The Northman, Álfarr, was worse in Lazzaro’s mind. The Fjoti were known as an unpredictable people who were prone to sudden outbursts of uncontrollable rage that often resulted in needless violence and, worse still, death. He placed Álfarr squarely in the category of [i]possible liabilities[/i]. As a Cyrdion Knight, Sur Trevier was undoubtedly a model gentleman and proficient soldier. The Preceptory of the Church, which was comprised of various Orders of Knighthood that were sworn to uphold the Orthodoxy, had a long, prestigious history of heroic figures that usually ended up sacrificing themselves time and time again in order to protect the Church; a fate that Lazzaro found to be ultimately tragic. But none of that really concerned him. What concerned him about the knight was the embodiment of the Church’s strict high ideals and moral code. Lazzaro considered himself a good enough person overall, but in his line of work one had to make certain [i]adjustments[/i] and [i]allowances[/i] in order to prosper or even survive. Needless to say, involvement with the Æhüthians could become sticky for the young entrepreneur. He would have to drop the knight off with Ewart Jardine as soon as possible and then get back to work. So, Sur Trevier was haphazardly tossed into the [i]expendables[/i] bin. Égun, however, was a solid investment in almost every sense of the word. He would certainly prove to be a brutally efficient fighter and, better yet, enthusiastic about the bloody work that lay ahead. The reputation of the Rithmílidh preceded him and Lazzaro felt confident that the clansman would live up to the expectations. He defined the highlander as the [i]strongest asset[/i] in his portfolio. There was only one downside to Égun… Tríona, who was certainly easy on his eyes, seemed to be completely useless. Not only did she not speak the local language she was a constant distraction to her valuable cousin. While Égun had insisted she would prove useful and could “cook n’ stuff,” Lazzaro couldn’t help but feel like he was throwing away valuable silver retaining her employment. Regardless, she wasn’t the first [i]write-off[/i] Lazzaro had had in his career and certainly wouldn’t be his last. After considering the woman a bit longer, he counted her as a [i]retaining fee[/i] for his [i]strongest asset[/i]. His accounting for the day completed, Lazzaro prepared to introduce the lot of them to Ewart, whose house they were now approaching. The house was, in fact, more of a mansion. Complete with a five-foot wall of stone that encompassed a pleasant flower garden and a beautifully sculpted water fountain in the form of a mermaid that emptied a seemingly endless decanter of water into a pool below. Seeing the group as they arrived, one of three gardeners quickly made his way up to the house to inform the staff that they had visitors. As they made their final approach, Ewart stepped out onto the porch to greet them. “Well if it isn’t my [i]good[/i] friend, Lazzaro!” the older businessman called. Something about the way Ewart had stressed the word ‘good’ put Lazzaro on edge. He’d known the man for quite sometime now, but something seemed to be bothering his partner. As the target of the conversation, Lazzaro assumed that he must somehow be the culprit. “I trust I find you in good health, Ewart,” Lazzaro said cautiously. Ewart gave Lazzaro a very firm handshake, squeezing a bit more than necessary. “Who are your friends, Laz?” “Ah, these fine people are here to assist us with the clearing of the road so we can get back to business.” Hearing this, Ewart perked up and smiled. “Excellent!” “Let me introduce, Álfarr of the Hiemalmark, Father Aramon Botan of Aranarth, Égun and Tríona of Ondria, and Sur Trevier of Arlies.” Hearing his queue, Trevier stepped forward, “Greeting Master Jardine, I have been sent by the Most Reverend Clément Rousseau, Bishop of Ermione and was wondering if we might discuss this unfortunate business of orcs and any ideas you may have about resolving the crisis.” “Of course, of course. I do have some business to attend to this day, but you all should come back this eve and we will share a fine dinner and discuss all such matters.” As soon as he said it though, Ewart regretted it. He looked upon the two Eduni covered in mud and muck and thought of his fine, imported furniture. Sensing his thoughts, Trevier added, “That would be splendid. It will also give us an opportunity to clean up. I apologize that we are so disheveled at the moment.” In honesty, the knight was at somewhat of a loss as to how he could explain the clansmen’s appearance and utter lack of propriety. “Speaking of business,” Ewart said as he turned back to Lazzaro, “Lysette is a bit…disappointed that you didn’t call on her last eve.” “That’s it!” Égun exclaimed. “I remember now!” Nonchalantly, the clansman walked up behind Lazzaro and loudly whispered, “I have a message for you, Laz.” Lazzaro groaned pitifully and shooed Égun away. “Please understand, Ewart, that I had to secure soldiers to drive off the orcs as a top priority. While nothing would please me more than the company of your lovely daughter, it would be irresponsible of me to fritter away precious time while our business is at a standstill.” [[i]Damn, I’m smooth.[/i]] Nodding in complete understanding, Ewart smiled. “Of course, Lazzaro. I’m sorry, she should be more understanding of a man’s work and I applaud your attention to enterprise. Perhaps you could use this afternoon to visit with her?” While it was posed as a question, Ewart wasn’t really looking for an answer. The instructions were as clear as a profit margin to Lazzaro. “Absolutely! It was what I had hoped for from the start.” “I thought he said we’re going to kill orcs?” Égun asked. “Quiet you.” Álfarr admonished with a chuckle of his own. [b]The Golden Tankard[/b] With Lazzaro sharing a pleasant afternoon with the lovely Lysette and Trevier off at the local chapel for some much needed prayer time before once again meeting with the reeve, the others returned to the inn for what they hoped would be a quiet afternoon of drinking and general laziness. Not two hours had passed before Merla, the bar wench, came to Aramon. “Sir priest…” “Just Father will do. What can I do for you, child?” “Sorry, Father. A woman from town is most distraught and is asking to speak with you. We’ve taken her to a private room if you’d like to see her.” Aramon stood. “Of course, please show me the way.” Merla brought Aramon to a back room where an elderly woman was crying with a frightened child clinging to the hem of her dress. “Aida, this is Father Aramon,” Merla said introducing the cleric. “Thank you, Merla, please excuse us,” Aramon said and gestured towards the door with a pleasant smile. Merla gave a curtsey and excused herself as she closed the door behind her. Aramon gave a smile and placed a hand upon the head of the child before looking back to Aida. “What troubles you?” “They took him!” she blurted. “They’ve taken my husband and now he is gone!” At that, she started sobbing even harder. “Please, child, calm yourself and explain to me the whole of the matter. Who has taken your husband and how can I help? Are there no guards?” “No, no. You don’t understand!” If Aida expected a response at that she was to be disappointed. Aramon simply sat down and patiently waited for her to explain. He had no small experience, of course, in listening to all manner of complaints and pleas of those in need and had learned some time ago when to speak and when to listen. Aida went on. “My husband had been killed in one of the ambushes while he was working as a caravan guard. I brought our son, Kade, to the cemetery to pay our respects and where my husband was buried there is nothing but a gaping hole!” Now very interested, Aramon stood once again. “A hole, you say? Can you show me?” “Of course, Father. Come with me.” As the three of them hurriedly made their way to leave, Álfarr stopped them in the common room. “Is there trouble?” Hearing the word trouble brought Égun over as well as he didn’t want to be left out of anything that just might be ‘fun.’ “It seems that this widow’s husband has gone missing,” Aramon explained. “She is taking me to the cemetery so that I may investigate.” ”Alright!” exclaimed Égun. “I’m coming too!” Aramon sighed at the callous barbarian. He wanted nothing more than to leave the clansman behind, but was wise enough to know that he may be walking into danger. “Very well, though I’d have you mind your manners and remain quiet.” “Oh, you know me! It won’t be a problem!” Égun smiled. Aida motioned for Aramon to step aside before speaking to him. “Father, can we trust these… [i]pagans[/i]?” “I assure you, they will be fine,” Aramon said. [[i]Father, let me be right.[/i]] Égun grabbed up Tríona and they all made their way outside. Dark, angry skies looked down upon Wrensford as thunder roared in the distance. Determined, the group made its way out of town towards the cemetery that loomed upon a shady hill. [/QUOTE]
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