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<blockquote data-quote="Lela" data-source="post: 245966" data-attributes="member: 1216"><p><strong>A White-knuckle Grip and a Twirling Stick!</strong></p><p></p><p><strong>Session 1, Part 2: A White-knuckle Grip and a Twirling Stick!</strong> </p><p></p><p>Melkien charged.</p><p></p><p>And the boy’s staff spun, the man’s pitchfork flying high into the air.</p><p></p><p>Melkien moved away quickly, having dropped to his back, he looked up at the boy, no older than ten, his staff spread across his chest, from left shoulder to right side.</p><p></p><p>The entire scene was one of confusion.</p><p></p><p>Whisper on one side, Melkien on the other. And separating them, were the two children.</p><p></p><p>Voices rang out, screams mixed with curses. Orders mixed with pleas.</p><p></p><p>But two never said a word. Both the boy and the green-haired drow were silent. Not speaking, nor moving, the drow continued to hold his hands up. The boy stared down at Melkien. You couldn’t call his eyes cold exactly. Determined was a better word.</p><p></p><p>It was sheer chaos.</p><p></p><p>Erinte took a moment to compose herself, looked at the chaos, and found order.</p><p></p><p>She reached out, putting her hand on Whisper’s shoulder, “Hold on a moment child. Listen.”</p><p></p><p>Whisper listened. Only two voices remaining, once she removed herself. Melkien was cursing—what a mouth on that man!—and the girl, no older than eight, was pleading. </p><p></p><p>She was almost incoherent, but one thing was clear; she knew this man. Something about him helping her.</p><p></p><p>Whisper nodded. And, with a simple, yet sharp, word, she silenced her husband.</p><p></p><p>Whisper clapped her hands, surprising the child. “Good. Now, you say this . . . man helped you?” The girl nodded.</p><p></p><p>Erinte popped in, “Dynec, is this true?” The boy imitated his sister’s response. “Well, then. You two, stay here. Everyone else, inside.” Seeming not to notice their hesitation, Erinte began herding everyone inside, pausing only briefly to reassure the two children.</p><p></p><p>“And Melkien, be sure to invite that young man. I want to speak to him too.”</p><p></p><p>Once inside, Erinte began to cook.</p><p></p><p>“How do you want your eggs?”</p><p></p><p>While the dark skinned man floundered, Whisper, having been through this many times, automatically responded that she wanted them her usual way; scrambled.</p><p></p><p>“Didn’t you, umm . . .”</p><p></p><p>“After the others arrive, I don’t want to be repeating things.” Her voice sounded strained.</p><p></p><p>A moment later, the door opened, admitting Melkien and yet another elf, this one carrying a large bow.</p><p></p><p>Bullying him into a chair and putting eggs—sunny-side up—on fine wooden dish in front of him, a pounding came from the door.</p><p></p><p>Erinte stared Melkien back into his seat and stalked to the door. “What?”</p><p></p><p>“Do someone just say fire?” A tall human with small halfling at his feet asked.</p><p></p><p>“Inside! Sit. What do you know about fire?”</p><p></p><p>His voice like a fervent prayer, his face filled with pure obsession, he responded, “It’s glorious.”</p><p></p><p>“Recently! What have you seen recently?”</p><p></p><p>He opened his mouth, his face twisted in that distorted way once again. Erinte raised her eyebrow.</p><p></p><p>“I saw a farmhouse. Four days ago. It still smelled like perfection.”</p><p></p><p>“Was that to the south?”</p><p></p><p>“The south? Yes. Warmer there. Fire is happy in warm places.”</p><p></p><p>Her knuckles white on the frying pan’s handle, “How do you want your eggs?”</p><p></p><p>Reaching into his pack, he pulled out a candle and lit it w/ his finger, “Sunny-side down.”</p><p></p><p>Erinte snatched the candle away, tossing into trash bin below the sink, “Your turn drow. How did you help those babies?” Erinte continued to question Hawke methodically, occasionally reaching into the halfling’s pouch, removing various shinny items.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Lela, post: 245966, member: 1216"] [b]A White-knuckle Grip and a Twirling Stick![/b] [b]Session 1, Part 2: A White-knuckle Grip and a Twirling Stick![/b] Melkien charged. And the boy’s staff spun, the man’s pitchfork flying high into the air. Melkien moved away quickly, having dropped to his back, he looked up at the boy, no older than ten, his staff spread across his chest, from left shoulder to right side. The entire scene was one of confusion. Whisper on one side, Melkien on the other. And separating them, were the two children. Voices rang out, screams mixed with curses. Orders mixed with pleas. But two never said a word. Both the boy and the green-haired drow were silent. Not speaking, nor moving, the drow continued to hold his hands up. The boy stared down at Melkien. You couldn’t call his eyes cold exactly. Determined was a better word. It was sheer chaos. Erinte took a moment to compose herself, looked at the chaos, and found order. She reached out, putting her hand on Whisper’s shoulder, “Hold on a moment child. Listen.” Whisper listened. Only two voices remaining, once she removed herself. Melkien was cursing—what a mouth on that man!—and the girl, no older than eight, was pleading. She was almost incoherent, but one thing was clear; she knew this man. Something about him helping her. Whisper nodded. And, with a simple, yet sharp, word, she silenced her husband. Whisper clapped her hands, surprising the child. “Good. Now, you say this . . . man helped you?” The girl nodded. Erinte popped in, “Dynec, is this true?” The boy imitated his sister’s response. “Well, then. You two, stay here. Everyone else, inside.” Seeming not to notice their hesitation, Erinte began herding everyone inside, pausing only briefly to reassure the two children. “And Melkien, be sure to invite that young man. I want to speak to him too.” Once inside, Erinte began to cook. “How do you want your eggs?” While the dark skinned man floundered, Whisper, having been through this many times, automatically responded that she wanted them her usual way; scrambled. “Didn’t you, umm . . .” “After the others arrive, I don’t want to be repeating things.” Her voice sounded strained. A moment later, the door opened, admitting Melkien and yet another elf, this one carrying a large bow. Bullying him into a chair and putting eggs—sunny-side up—on fine wooden dish in front of him, a pounding came from the door. Erinte stared Melkien back into his seat and stalked to the door. “What?” “Do someone just say fire?” A tall human with small halfling at his feet asked. “Inside! Sit. What do you know about fire?” His voice like a fervent prayer, his face filled with pure obsession, he responded, “It’s glorious.” “Recently! What have you seen recently?” He opened his mouth, his face twisted in that distorted way once again. Erinte raised her eyebrow. “I saw a farmhouse. Four days ago. It still smelled like perfection.” “Was that to the south?” “The south? Yes. Warmer there. Fire is happy in warm places.” Her knuckles white on the frying pan’s handle, “How do you want your eggs?” Reaching into his pack, he pulled out a candle and lit it w/ his finger, “Sunny-side down.” Erinte snatched the candle away, tossing into trash bin below the sink, “Your turn drow. How did you help those babies?” Erinte continued to question Hawke methodically, occasionally reaching into the halfling’s pouch, removing various shinny items. [/QUOTE]
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