Hairy Minotaur
Explorer
Jon Potter said:
Well, this ought to prove enlightening for the elf.
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NOW LIVE! Into the Woods--new character species, eerie monsters, and haunting villains to populate the woodlands of your D&D games.
The Realms of Enlightenment: The Grey Companions
- Thread starter Jon Potter
- Start date
Well, this ought to prove enlightening for the elf.
Jon Potter
First Post
Hairy Minotaur said:Well, this ought to prove enlightening for the elf.
Actually, there'll be some revelations for everone in the next installment or two.
Jon Potter
First Post
[Realms #299] The New Elf on the Block
I almost titled this one "The longest update evah!"
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"Ledare?" Ixin asked, clearly take aback by the comment.
"Indeed," the elf said with a polite nod. "Well, that's not my ultimate mission, but it is where I'd like to start. May I speak with her?" He took a step forward and Great Root whipped his limbs around in a threatening manner. Obisayo took a polite step backward.
"It seems Great Root is not willing to let me enter," the elf said with an indulgent sigh. "Perhaps the Janissary could come out to see me? It's really very important that I speak with her."
Morier and Ixin exchanged glances, neither one quite comfortable with revealing their companion's current state - either physically or mentally. Morier opened his mouth to say something and Ixin beat him to the punch.
"I'll send Marty back to camp," she said, clapping her hands to rouse the owl who was dozing on a nearby branch. He ruffled his feathers and fluttered down to land on her fist.
"Oh! Is that your familiar?" Obisayo asked with a grin. "He's magnificent. I've got my own familiar right..." He looked around for a moment and then shrugged. "Oh, well. He'll turn up sooner or later. I'm sure you'll like him."
"I'm sure," Ixin said, but her tone indicated she was anything but. She told Martivir, "Go fetch Karak," and then she tossed him into the air. He disappeared at once into the trees.
"Karak? That would be the dwarf, correct?" Obisayo asked her and Inin nodded. "I heard from some of the folk in Hillville Junction that you had picked up one of the stone folk while you were there. I've never had occasion to spend much time with a dwarf before."
"Well, here's your chance," Ixin said, cocking her head in the direction of Karak's clanging approach. It sounded a bit like a child banging on an overturned pot.
"Oi! By my beard!" Karak swore as he beheld the newcomer. His free hand crept up to tug habitually on his beard braids, but encountered instead the crisped remnants. The hand recoiled as if it had touched a hot forge. He continued grumbling as he approached the group and they could just make out his words over the clatter of his plate mail. "I be surrounded by olves. Everywhere I turn I see white ones, half ones, reds ones, little ones, and now fancy ones. Feln were my racial enemy, to be sure, but at least he broke up the group a bit. Where be all the dwarves, I say? Are there no more dwarven adventures? Well... when I get back to my delve, I'll be speakin' to the king about it. That be for sure!"
Obisayo looked uncertainly from the approaching dwarf to Ixin, but she offered no explanation as Karak walked up to the elf and planted his axe between his iron-shod feet. He cast an appraising eye on Obisayo.
"Hmm... Well let me take a look at ye," he grunted, unconsciously fingering Malak's holy symbol as he studied the elf. "You seem to have walked a bit in some very fine clothes to find us, that be for sure. The question is fancy pants... why?"
"My name is Obisayo Xilosnient," the elf said with a slight bow.
"That don't answer my question, fancy pants," Karak told him. "Well despite your reasons, I do nae take you for a cleric because you wear no armour and have no amulet. I do take you for a spell caster or alchemist." The elf smiled uncertainly when the dwarf paused .
"Truly, I am a wizard of no small skill," Obisayo admitted. "I was-"
"Figgered," Karak interrupted. "As the others have no doubt already told you I have two mighty sick back at camp with the Rot of Chaos in their gut. I be no healer but I seemed to have... uh... shall we say gained a bit o' experience in healin'. Morier and Ixin, 'ere, have tended fine although they were affected, but I am afraid that Ledare and the halfling seem to have not turned the corner."
"Oh dear!" Obisayo's face scrunched up, moving from serene directly to horror-struck in a heartbeat. He began rummaging at once through his satchel. "The Janissary is injured? I may have a healing potion or an anti-toxin in my bag to-"
"I do say it be from disease not injury nor poison," Karak corrected. "It is awastin' 'em away and I can do nae to stop it. As for me... well as far as I can tell, it's gonna take more than being thrown into the gullet of the chaos beast and a little phlegm to git to me!" He thumped his breasptlate with his axe handle, and tossed his shaggy head back, laughing outloud. The stress and tension seemed to have drained from his countenance when he finished.
"I am willing to look after your ill if it will be of help to you," Obisayo said. "I remember a few elven remedies, but I have no great giift in the healing arts."
"I'd welcome another set o' eyes," Karak admitted and turned back toward camp. Under his breath he added, "E'en if they be olv eyes."
As Obisayo moved to follow the dwarf, Great Root again snapped into a frenzy. "Stopping you will now! None allowed be here!" his voice boomed and the elf stopped at once.
"Oh yes," he said. "I forgot. Perhaps, if your party is willing, we could set a camp outside of this area and we can feast together." Karak harrumphed and stomped over to the treant.
"Yo, Great Stump... I do have a question for ye," the dwarf barked. "You do sense that Tarawyn be gone right?"
"Yes," the treant replied, his voice full of melancholy.
"And the special thing ye guard be gone too, right?" Karak pressed.
"Yes," the treant sighed.
"So why are you still guardin' this place the same way?" Karak demanded. "Should you not be getting new orders or passing the information along your root system or something to alert the others of your kind? I do nae know but that we may encounter others of your kind on our quest and I do not want to run into the same tangle of roots we did here. Ye ken me?"
"None allowed be here," the treant repeated, but there was little authority in the voice. "Guardian am I. Forbidden is this place."
"Gaurdan o' what is what I want to know," the dwarf shot back and the treant's branches seemed to droop. Ixin gave Karak a reproachful look. Clearly diplomacy wouldn't be nearly as easy with Karak as it was with Ledare.
"Great Root, I understand you have already been more than accommodating to us and we are clearly imposing, but we do so with a great good in our intent," the drakeling told him, her voice soothing as she stepped closer. "We hope to find Tarawyn or at least to find his captor. It appears this Bisayo is in a good position to assist us and we are clearly in desperate need of assistance at this time."
The treant said nothing in reply, but his woody face creaked around to look dejectedly at Ixin. "We plan to leave at sunrise," she told him with a smile. As she spoke, her Chainmail Bikini scintilated in the meager light." Might Bisayo join us for this one night?"
Great Root's branches drooped farther and it turned away from the group. "Go," he said and moved off into the trees. Karak snorted his approval and turned to Obisayo.
"By the by, elf, you do nae have a potion of dwarven beard growing in that bag o' yours, do ya?" he said under his breath.
Ledare's head ached as her fevered mind struggled to make sense of the jumbled images flooding it. First she saw her mother but with Karak's beard, then her lover, Delaroux, with Morier's colorless skin. Vade was standing in the Vale. She could see the verdant mounds that were their burrows, each one smelling of freshly-tilled soil. As she looked at Vade, he waved goodbye to her but she did not return the gesture. Instead she gripped tight the reins of the white horse that bore her, plate mail armor glimmering in the newly risen sun. Her shod feet rested snugly in stirrups that were fashioned of two bronze snakes each biting the other beneath her plated heal. She looked back at Vade and in his place saw a brown hare wearing purple slippers with crimson soles and crimson linings; it hopped into its burrow and disappeared.
She looked around her. She was alone. Her hair was long and worn loose, not cropped severely nor tied back in typical Janissary fashion. She was not used to feeling it blow against the nape of her neck underneath her helm. Her cape billowed slightly behind her. She absently fingered her well known and well worn clasp that held her cape against her armored breast. She lovingly brushed her fingers over the white flower with three platnium thorns around a vine. She felt reassured that it was still there - as it was always. It was a gift from her Mother.
Her Mother's face floated before her just like when she lay down to bed each night as her mother sang to her. Her mother's flame red hair, yellow eyes, and beautiful dragon scales. Her mother's wings folded neatly against her shoulders.
'Wait,' she thought, 'What plantinum clasp?' Her mother never gave her that. And even more frightening to her: 'What dragon scales?'
Her heat beat faster.
She heard Janissary Sargeant Cadeus calling her, his voice booming across the parade grounds. Was she late again? "Stop... now unwanted visitor," he bellowed.
Was she in the wrong place again? She grabbed her cape at the neck as she ran across the slick, stone training grounds. If she was late again, she would have to clean every common soldier's mess pot again - a task she definitely wanted to avoid. There! The barracks! She was almost there.
"None allowed be here!" Cade's deep voice boomed.
'What does he mean?' she wondered. 'I am squad leader. Of course I am allowed here.'
She pulled the wrought iron handle and stepped inside the barrack entryway... and stopped. She looked around her in silent awe. Stretching ahead of her were not rows of bunkbeds with wooden footlockers, but an expansive space with four great columns to each side. The hallway ended in a sepulchre that sheltered a mirrored altar. Above the altar was the double crescent moon symbol that Ledare instantly recognized as the holy symbol of Shaharizod.
The feelings that had been plaguing her - the sense of loss, and pain, and uncertainty- abandonded her in the blink of a leaper cat's eye. She knew not this place, yet there was a familiarity here, as if she had known it all her life. To the right of her were four alcoves; to the left were three. The number seven seemed appropriate to her. Looking up she could see through the skylights piercing the vaulted roof that the sky was blue and clear. The air seemed cold and fresh to her and washed her of her travel weariness.
As her lungs filled with the pleasant coolness, she closed her eyes and found she could remember nothing. Her mind was at once as clear as the air around her and and clean as the sky above. All she felt was the cold breath in her lungs, the throb of the lifebeat in her temples, and warmth of blood flowing into her limbs. All she could hear was the beat of her heart; it sounded comforting to her. Everything in this place filled her with a sense of serenity that felt long absent from her life, although she wasn't quite sure why she felt that way, unable, as she was, to remember being anywhere but here. When she opened her eyes, a figure she hadn't seen before rose from its kneeling position at the altar. The figure's back was to Ledare, all robed in white with fur at hem and hood. The woman's blonde hair fell unbraided down her back to a point.
Twin scimitars - moonblades, Ruze always called them - rose suddenly from the folds of the robe and the figure began an intricate dance that seemed foreign and yet familiar to Ledare. All she could hear now was the soft slippers skimming the stone floor as the figure dipped and thrust with the twin moons, cutting patterns in the air that seemed to linger in Ledare's eye even after the swords' pasasage. The dance was both thrilling and deadly, Ledare could see, and she watched its dangerous beauty with rapt attention, not daring to blink... barely daring to breathe.
Whether moments or hours passed Ledare was unsure, but the voice that beckoned her startled her out of her reviere. "Ledare. Chosen one," it commanded. "Come to me." She could not resist and strode down the carpeted aisle to the altar and the figure whose back remained to her still. Ledare knelt as she had been schooled, in true Janissary fashion: right knee up, sword tip resting before right toe, hand on pommel thumb down and to breast, head up and proud.
In a strict and somewhat unkind tone, the figure spoke again. "Rise child. Do not kneel in the form of the Janissary here. You dishonor my Queen and your Mother." Ledare rose, anger flushing her neck.
She was the King's Janissary. No one should speak to her as less without cause. "Face me and let me look upon the one who issues these commands," Ledare said and the tone of command in her voice echoed off the high ceiling. The figure turned and staring back at her was the sneering face of the barbarian.
"Grisham!" she shouted, startled almost beyond words by the man's appearance here. He brought with him all the uncertainty and self-doubt that Ledare thought she had left on the doorstep of this temple. She remembered it all: his biting comments, his attempts to sow discord amongst the group, her humiliation when they'd finally come to blows. The look of fury in his blazing green eyes told Ledare in an instant that this confrontation would become much more than a scuffle in the woods.
In a heartbeat she brought Ravager to the fore, striking at the figure with a brutal upward slash to the neck. The massive blow found its mark, and bit into Grisham's neck. All the rage Ledare felt - for the challenges he brought, all the loss she felt from the death of her companions, all the quiet failure with which she suffered, all the doubt she harbored of the leader she never wanted to be - crashed down with her in that blow. And in doing so, she later realized, they promptly left her. Just like that.
The blade of the saw-toothed bastard sword rang like a church bell throughout the great hall as it struck Grisham's neck. It was like hitting a block of granite, Ledare thought to herself. The shock of the blow ripped its way up her arms and through her torso. Ledare's arm thrummed with pain and her elbow hurt as it twisted in its socket.
"What?!" Ledare cursed under her breath. She knew her strike had hit Grisham's soft, exposed neck, yet there the figure stood, whilst Ravager lay broken in two at her feet. The sword blow had hit the man's neck but seemed to strike some invisible protection shield. There was not a scratch on Grisham's face nor any blood. Except... upon closer examination, there were scratches on his beardless face. Three broad scratches on each cheek, the middle scratch the longest and bisecting each eye. How that face was not blinded Ledare could not imagine, but she felt its eyes staring at her - staring through her - and then the face spoke in the same firm and unkind tone.
"Sit down, Ledare, lest I show you your place with my two moon blades," it said and Ledare sat unceremoniously upon the stone-tiled floor still staring up at the face. Slowly recognition dawned.
"Soriah!" Ledare managed, suddenly certain that it was she. A girl of just nineteen, scarred by a broad-banded hawk when she was very young, Soriah was the most devout Battleguard of Shaharizod Ledare had ever met. The girl was beautiful, Ledare realized, strong bold features yet softened by something else that gave her an air of knowledge beyond her years. Soriah raised the fur-lined cowl over her head as she laughed.
"Don't look so surprised to see me, Ledare," she said. "I have known I would be seeing you in this place since the day I met you. Remember that day? Remember Muddah? And Fendathial, who slew him?" Ledare's face began to twist in pain as she remembered back to Soriah before her death, Draelond, Ruze, Finian, Feln, and the foul fate that befell Kirnoth.
"Of course, you remember, Ledare. I know you do," Soriah told her, her voice as cold and hard as marble. "You wear it on your sleeve and countenance. That is why you are here. You have been chosen, child. You always have been but you did not know it... until now. Now is the time. It is here."
Ledare's thoughts began to wander, unbidden. She did not find it strange to be called child by a girl her own age, and she did know she has been carrying the death of her companions too long in her breast. "Am I dead?" she asked. "Is this how I come to speak to you, Soriah?"
Soriah laughed again, but now her voice was softer. "No, Ledare. You are not dead. No, not yet," she said. "And listen to me as a Battleguard of Shaharizod: their deaths are not your fault. You did not cause their deaths. Nor did you lead them to their deaths. Each one fought, as I fought, Chaos and Aphyx for our own reasons - for our own cause. Just as the Vla'rinnyn Quarth Sila do now. Do you dishonor their deaths? Do you mean to dishonor mine?"
Ledare shook her head as tears fell unbidden down her cheek. She did not want to forget or dishonor them.
"Then remember them. But do not carry their deaths in your heart," Soriah said as she reached out and tilted Ledare's chin up so that her tear-filled eyes were forced to meet her own. "Look at me Ledare. Do I look unhappy? I sit at the right hand of my Queen and I still do her work to fight the evil that has befouled our lands. Chaos grows strong now, Ledare, and you have been chosen not just to fight it but to lead that fight as well. Why do you think the name your companions chose for your group is an elven one? It could have just as easily been dwarvish or halfling, but it is elven - a tribute to your own heritage."
"Why do you think you out of all of us have survived?" Soriah pressed. "Just plain luck? Because you were chosen to lead rather than to fight in the fore? No. You survived because you have been chosen, Ledare."
Soriah released her hold on Ledare's face and folded her hands beneath her robes. "You are now a Jolidishi, Ledare. The time is now. Time to recognize and face what you truly are, to know your destiny, to unleash what your soul has been telling you these past few years."
"Am I now a fighter for Shaharizod? A Battleguard such as you, Soriah?' Ledare asked like a child.
"No, Ledare," Soriah chuckled again. "No, Child. The choice of Battleguard comes from within. Others do not make that choice for you - not even the gods. We each make our own choice, and your soul has already chosen, but it is now in this place that your soul seeks to reveal it to your mind. The time is now. Do you feel it?"
Ledare nodded eagerly, barely understanding but knowing deep in her soul that this was the time. She felt an urgency building in her chest that rapidly threatened to steal away her breath.
"Am I to follow Shaharizod then, as some kind of holy warrior?" she asked a little less the child this time, for she felt certain that she was very close to the truth of the matter.
"Are you?" countered Soriah, one golden eyebrow arching upward skeptically.
"No," Ledare answered softly, shaking her head as she thought about it. "No. That was the path you chose. I do not feel that is my path." And saying that, she rose and looked Soriah in the eyes speaking softly, but with utter conviction. "No. The path of the Battleguard is not for me. I know now that is not my calling. But the problem is, I do not know what path to take."
Soriah looked impassively at her for a time before she spoke. "Once you answer the question I put to you, then your soul's path will become visible to you," she said. "Then it is up to you to follow that path, Ledare." The half-elf nodded but Soriah raised a cautioning finger.
"But know this: to follow the path of your God is not easy," she warned. "You must put your God's wishes before your own. You must put forth the ideal of goodness and loyalty before yourself. For you, this will not be hard for you are a steadfast and loyal warrior. But sometime you will have to also put aside the safety of others for your cause. You may have to see even more of your companions fall to the powers of Chaos in your fight against it. And most importantly, you will have to lead them, Ledare. Even the strongest serpent needs a head to guide it."
"You will be fighting for more than just your king now, Ledare. You will be fighting for our very existance," Soriah went on. "The powers of Chaos grow strong and threaten my Queen's very substance. If my Queen and her allies fall, than the world as you know it shall cease to exist. What of your companions then, Ledare? I ask you to consider: what of them then?"
Moments more passed, then Soriah pulled back her hood and her hair was like a cascade of gold around her face; her eyes were like polished emeralds." I will tell you one last thing before I ask you your question. I was bade by my Queen, Shaharizod, to act as your conduit - your vessel in communion with the Goddess that has chosen you, child. Search in your heart for the answer to my question and answer the call of my Queen's daughter, for Flor has chosen you, child. From this moment on, if you choose wisely, your communion with the Daughter will be your own."
"Now kneel like this, Jolidishi," Soriah said and gently pushed Ledare's shoulders down and pushed Ledare onto her haunches so her buttocks rested on both feet equally, toes flat and to the back. Soriah lowered Ledare's head downward so her face mirrored the floor. "Always lower your face to your Mother and rest easy on your knees in supplication. And now, here is your question. I ask you Ledare: what has your soul chosen, and does the mind now see the path before it?"
Ledare thought for a moment before speaking, and then......
Ledare awoke.
And she knew her whole life had changed. Or perhaps not changed, but begun. The longstanding ache in her heart was missing but its void was all but unrecognizable. In its place was the strongest sense of purpose she had ever known. And a need to fulfill its duty ushered her into the new day.
It was not as difficult to wake up or to move or to breathe as she barely remembered it had been. Now she welcomed the chance to open her eyes and her heart to a new day, and was thankful that the opportunity to do so had been bestowed upon her. Before the first twitch of her body, she took a moment to thank Flor for rescuing her from her own demise, and pledged that she would use every breath to do what was right.
The prayer was a little awkward and sounded strange at first to Ledare's ears. But the fire of her life had been rekindled... from a small flame of duty to a roaring bonfire of devotion. She would carry the torch inside her now. And she felt incredibly blessed to do so. She knew for certain that she was now part of a light that could not be extinguished.
The fever was gone, but the weakness lingered. With some effort, Ledare pushed herself to a sitting position. and saw Karak, Ixin and Morier conferring with a blonde high elf she had never seen before.
"I know townspeople we could call on who can help us," the elf was saying. "Are you willing to travel into town?"
"Aye," Karak nodded. "That be our next course of action."
"In that case, we might call on the leaders of a nearby community. It sounds as if your cause is just and that would have them rally in support of you," the elf went on. "If I could get word to Geran I may be able to pull favor with the Mayor of Thumble, a man named Opeeindy, or possibly even with Baron Hunsa himself...."
"We were thinking of heading for Flavonshire," Ixin said and the elf nodded.
"Interesting choice, Flavonshire. Do you know people there?"
"No," Ixin said and her tone was somewhat gaurded. the elf didn't seem to notice.
"A difficult lot to work with, or so I am told. They do not often see what is good for the Kingdom, concerned with their own little adventures," he said. "Fine people though, very crafty. I have a piece of art hanging in my eska-nosse."
"Yer wha?" Karak grunted.
"His family home," Ledare translated and there was a flurry of activity as the others realized she was awake. Karak especially poked and prodded her, his thick fingers managing to unerringly find every tender spot on her body it seemed. At last she was able to push them aside and address the stranger.
"Who are you?" she asked. "And how is it you are so familiar with the land and people of this area?"
"I apologize for forgetting my manners," the elf said with a bow. "I am Uanabisayo Xilosnient of the Ten'Venielle and I would speak with the Janissary, Ledare Eelsof'faw."
"I am Janissary Ledare Eelsof'faw," she said. "Forgive me for not standing; I'm a little under the weather, so to speak."
"Think nothing of it," the elf replied. "Your friends have informed me of your situation."
"Are you skilled at all in healing?" she asked hopefully. "We have been fighting the blackest of evils and our party has been touched by its effects."
"I have heard of ancient beasts who can cause the body to wither and lose strength," Bisayo apologized "I have heard of them in tales, but I do not know the cure for such an ailment."
"In that case, perhaps we should get straight to business," the Janissary said graciously. "Why is it that you have come to seek me out? Do you bring a message from the king?"
"Ledare, Janissary to the king, Haermond III. I have met your king's people, although never the man in person. He is a good king and you are just to serve him," Bisayo said. "But it is not at his behest that I come to you, but rather at the bidding of my own king, Valenviel Sithrarion, Scion of the Cantes and Grand Architect of Galerideleli. Or rather, not directly at his behest, but as a result of his edict. I don't mean to suggest that I have personal contact with Valenviel Sithrarion. My father is Od'ahman, but even so..."
"Is 'e makin' any sense to you?" Karak stage whispered to Morier, elbowing the albino in the belly hard enough to make him grunt in surprise. The others turned to look and Bisayo continued with his tale.
"Part of the king's responsibility is for he and his court to make certain that high blood families are married correctly, so that important lands and names are maintained, for the stability and betterment of the elven kingdom as a whole," Bisayo explained, although Ledare was already familiar with the custom; it was one of the things that her father had had to overcome when he fell in love with her human mother. "King Valenviel Sithrarion, in his infinite wisdom, has decreed that the Ten'Venielle's next leader, my younger brother, Narguya, should be married to another family of great stature but little means from Galerideleli, itself, the Val Satha family."
"The maiden Kirelea, daughter of Curani Val Satha of Galerideleli, was chosen as my brother's bride-to-be," the elf annouce with pride. "Kirelea responded well to this betrothal but did make one request of her soon-to-be new family: seek out her brother and return him as an honored guest at the wedding."
"Not to sound impertinent, but what does that have to do with me?" Ledare asked.
"According to my inquiries, he was last seen traveling with you," Bisayo said. "I am quite certain that you know him. His name is Kirnoth."
I almost titled this one "The longest update evah!"
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"Ledare?" Ixin asked, clearly take aback by the comment.
"Indeed," the elf said with a polite nod. "Well, that's not my ultimate mission, but it is where I'd like to start. May I speak with her?" He took a step forward and Great Root whipped his limbs around in a threatening manner. Obisayo took a polite step backward.
"It seems Great Root is not willing to let me enter," the elf said with an indulgent sigh. "Perhaps the Janissary could come out to see me? It's really very important that I speak with her."
Morier and Ixin exchanged glances, neither one quite comfortable with revealing their companion's current state - either physically or mentally. Morier opened his mouth to say something and Ixin beat him to the punch.
"I'll send Marty back to camp," she said, clapping her hands to rouse the owl who was dozing on a nearby branch. He ruffled his feathers and fluttered down to land on her fist.
"Oh! Is that your familiar?" Obisayo asked with a grin. "He's magnificent. I've got my own familiar right..." He looked around for a moment and then shrugged. "Oh, well. He'll turn up sooner or later. I'm sure you'll like him."
"I'm sure," Ixin said, but her tone indicated she was anything but. She told Martivir, "Go fetch Karak," and then she tossed him into the air. He disappeared at once into the trees.
"Karak? That would be the dwarf, correct?" Obisayo asked her and Inin nodded. "I heard from some of the folk in Hillville Junction that you had picked up one of the stone folk while you were there. I've never had occasion to spend much time with a dwarf before."
"Well, here's your chance," Ixin said, cocking her head in the direction of Karak's clanging approach. It sounded a bit like a child banging on an overturned pot.
"Oi! By my beard!" Karak swore as he beheld the newcomer. His free hand crept up to tug habitually on his beard braids, but encountered instead the crisped remnants. The hand recoiled as if it had touched a hot forge. He continued grumbling as he approached the group and they could just make out his words over the clatter of his plate mail. "I be surrounded by olves. Everywhere I turn I see white ones, half ones, reds ones, little ones, and now fancy ones. Feln were my racial enemy, to be sure, but at least he broke up the group a bit. Where be all the dwarves, I say? Are there no more dwarven adventures? Well... when I get back to my delve, I'll be speakin' to the king about it. That be for sure!"
Obisayo looked uncertainly from the approaching dwarf to Ixin, but she offered no explanation as Karak walked up to the elf and planted his axe between his iron-shod feet. He cast an appraising eye on Obisayo.
"Hmm... Well let me take a look at ye," he grunted, unconsciously fingering Malak's holy symbol as he studied the elf. "You seem to have walked a bit in some very fine clothes to find us, that be for sure. The question is fancy pants... why?"
"My name is Obisayo Xilosnient," the elf said with a slight bow.
"That don't answer my question, fancy pants," Karak told him. "Well despite your reasons, I do nae take you for a cleric because you wear no armour and have no amulet. I do take you for a spell caster or alchemist." The elf smiled uncertainly when the dwarf paused .
"Truly, I am a wizard of no small skill," Obisayo admitted. "I was-"
"Figgered," Karak interrupted. "As the others have no doubt already told you I have two mighty sick back at camp with the Rot of Chaos in their gut. I be no healer but I seemed to have... uh... shall we say gained a bit o' experience in healin'. Morier and Ixin, 'ere, have tended fine although they were affected, but I am afraid that Ledare and the halfling seem to have not turned the corner."
"Oh dear!" Obisayo's face scrunched up, moving from serene directly to horror-struck in a heartbeat. He began rummaging at once through his satchel. "The Janissary is injured? I may have a healing potion or an anti-toxin in my bag to-"
"I do say it be from disease not injury nor poison," Karak corrected. "It is awastin' 'em away and I can do nae to stop it. As for me... well as far as I can tell, it's gonna take more than being thrown into the gullet of the chaos beast and a little phlegm to git to me!" He thumped his breasptlate with his axe handle, and tossed his shaggy head back, laughing outloud. The stress and tension seemed to have drained from his countenance when he finished.
"I am willing to look after your ill if it will be of help to you," Obisayo said. "I remember a few elven remedies, but I have no great giift in the healing arts."
"I'd welcome another set o' eyes," Karak admitted and turned back toward camp. Under his breath he added, "E'en if they be olv eyes."
As Obisayo moved to follow the dwarf, Great Root again snapped into a frenzy. "Stopping you will now! None allowed be here!" his voice boomed and the elf stopped at once.
"Oh yes," he said. "I forgot. Perhaps, if your party is willing, we could set a camp outside of this area and we can feast together." Karak harrumphed and stomped over to the treant.
"Yo, Great Stump... I do have a question for ye," the dwarf barked. "You do sense that Tarawyn be gone right?"
"Yes," the treant replied, his voice full of melancholy.
"And the special thing ye guard be gone too, right?" Karak pressed.
"Yes," the treant sighed.
"So why are you still guardin' this place the same way?" Karak demanded. "Should you not be getting new orders or passing the information along your root system or something to alert the others of your kind? I do nae know but that we may encounter others of your kind on our quest and I do not want to run into the same tangle of roots we did here. Ye ken me?"
"None allowed be here," the treant repeated, but there was little authority in the voice. "Guardian am I. Forbidden is this place."
"Gaurdan o' what is what I want to know," the dwarf shot back and the treant's branches seemed to droop. Ixin gave Karak a reproachful look. Clearly diplomacy wouldn't be nearly as easy with Karak as it was with Ledare.
"Great Root, I understand you have already been more than accommodating to us and we are clearly imposing, but we do so with a great good in our intent," the drakeling told him, her voice soothing as she stepped closer. "We hope to find Tarawyn or at least to find his captor. It appears this Bisayo is in a good position to assist us and we are clearly in desperate need of assistance at this time."
The treant said nothing in reply, but his woody face creaked around to look dejectedly at Ixin. "We plan to leave at sunrise," she told him with a smile. As she spoke, her Chainmail Bikini scintilated in the meager light." Might Bisayo join us for this one night?"
Great Root's branches drooped farther and it turned away from the group. "Go," he said and moved off into the trees. Karak snorted his approval and turned to Obisayo.
"By the by, elf, you do nae have a potion of dwarven beard growing in that bag o' yours, do ya?" he said under his breath.
Ledare's head ached as her fevered mind struggled to make sense of the jumbled images flooding it. First she saw her mother but with Karak's beard, then her lover, Delaroux, with Morier's colorless skin. Vade was standing in the Vale. She could see the verdant mounds that were their burrows, each one smelling of freshly-tilled soil. As she looked at Vade, he waved goodbye to her but she did not return the gesture. Instead she gripped tight the reins of the white horse that bore her, plate mail armor glimmering in the newly risen sun. Her shod feet rested snugly in stirrups that were fashioned of two bronze snakes each biting the other beneath her plated heal. She looked back at Vade and in his place saw a brown hare wearing purple slippers with crimson soles and crimson linings; it hopped into its burrow and disappeared.
She looked around her. She was alone. Her hair was long and worn loose, not cropped severely nor tied back in typical Janissary fashion. She was not used to feeling it blow against the nape of her neck underneath her helm. Her cape billowed slightly behind her. She absently fingered her well known and well worn clasp that held her cape against her armored breast. She lovingly brushed her fingers over the white flower with three platnium thorns around a vine. She felt reassured that it was still there - as it was always. It was a gift from her Mother.
Her Mother's face floated before her just like when she lay down to bed each night as her mother sang to her. Her mother's flame red hair, yellow eyes, and beautiful dragon scales. Her mother's wings folded neatly against her shoulders.
'Wait,' she thought, 'What plantinum clasp?' Her mother never gave her that. And even more frightening to her: 'What dragon scales?'
Her heat beat faster.
She heard Janissary Sargeant Cadeus calling her, his voice booming across the parade grounds. Was she late again? "Stop... now unwanted visitor," he bellowed.
Was she in the wrong place again? She grabbed her cape at the neck as she ran across the slick, stone training grounds. If she was late again, she would have to clean every common soldier's mess pot again - a task she definitely wanted to avoid. There! The barracks! She was almost there.
"None allowed be here!" Cade's deep voice boomed.
'What does he mean?' she wondered. 'I am squad leader. Of course I am allowed here.'
She pulled the wrought iron handle and stepped inside the barrack entryway... and stopped. She looked around her in silent awe. Stretching ahead of her were not rows of bunkbeds with wooden footlockers, but an expansive space with four great columns to each side. The hallway ended in a sepulchre that sheltered a mirrored altar. Above the altar was the double crescent moon symbol that Ledare instantly recognized as the holy symbol of Shaharizod.
The feelings that had been plaguing her - the sense of loss, and pain, and uncertainty- abandonded her in the blink of a leaper cat's eye. She knew not this place, yet there was a familiarity here, as if she had known it all her life. To the right of her were four alcoves; to the left were three. The number seven seemed appropriate to her. Looking up she could see through the skylights piercing the vaulted roof that the sky was blue and clear. The air seemed cold and fresh to her and washed her of her travel weariness.
As her lungs filled with the pleasant coolness, she closed her eyes and found she could remember nothing. Her mind was at once as clear as the air around her and and clean as the sky above. All she felt was the cold breath in her lungs, the throb of the lifebeat in her temples, and warmth of blood flowing into her limbs. All she could hear was the beat of her heart; it sounded comforting to her. Everything in this place filled her with a sense of serenity that felt long absent from her life, although she wasn't quite sure why she felt that way, unable, as she was, to remember being anywhere but here. When she opened her eyes, a figure she hadn't seen before rose from its kneeling position at the altar. The figure's back was to Ledare, all robed in white with fur at hem and hood. The woman's blonde hair fell unbraided down her back to a point.
Twin scimitars - moonblades, Ruze always called them - rose suddenly from the folds of the robe and the figure began an intricate dance that seemed foreign and yet familiar to Ledare. All she could hear now was the soft slippers skimming the stone floor as the figure dipped and thrust with the twin moons, cutting patterns in the air that seemed to linger in Ledare's eye even after the swords' pasasage. The dance was both thrilling and deadly, Ledare could see, and she watched its dangerous beauty with rapt attention, not daring to blink... barely daring to breathe.
Whether moments or hours passed Ledare was unsure, but the voice that beckoned her startled her out of her reviere. "Ledare. Chosen one," it commanded. "Come to me." She could not resist and strode down the carpeted aisle to the altar and the figure whose back remained to her still. Ledare knelt as she had been schooled, in true Janissary fashion: right knee up, sword tip resting before right toe, hand on pommel thumb down and to breast, head up and proud.
In a strict and somewhat unkind tone, the figure spoke again. "Rise child. Do not kneel in the form of the Janissary here. You dishonor my Queen and your Mother." Ledare rose, anger flushing her neck.
She was the King's Janissary. No one should speak to her as less without cause. "Face me and let me look upon the one who issues these commands," Ledare said and the tone of command in her voice echoed off the high ceiling. The figure turned and staring back at her was the sneering face of the barbarian.
"Grisham!" she shouted, startled almost beyond words by the man's appearance here. He brought with him all the uncertainty and self-doubt that Ledare thought she had left on the doorstep of this temple. She remembered it all: his biting comments, his attempts to sow discord amongst the group, her humiliation when they'd finally come to blows. The look of fury in his blazing green eyes told Ledare in an instant that this confrontation would become much more than a scuffle in the woods.
In a heartbeat she brought Ravager to the fore, striking at the figure with a brutal upward slash to the neck. The massive blow found its mark, and bit into Grisham's neck. All the rage Ledare felt - for the challenges he brought, all the loss she felt from the death of her companions, all the quiet failure with which she suffered, all the doubt she harbored of the leader she never wanted to be - crashed down with her in that blow. And in doing so, she later realized, they promptly left her. Just like that.
The blade of the saw-toothed bastard sword rang like a church bell throughout the great hall as it struck Grisham's neck. It was like hitting a block of granite, Ledare thought to herself. The shock of the blow ripped its way up her arms and through her torso. Ledare's arm thrummed with pain and her elbow hurt as it twisted in its socket.
"What?!" Ledare cursed under her breath. She knew her strike had hit Grisham's soft, exposed neck, yet there the figure stood, whilst Ravager lay broken in two at her feet. The sword blow had hit the man's neck but seemed to strike some invisible protection shield. There was not a scratch on Grisham's face nor any blood. Except... upon closer examination, there were scratches on his beardless face. Three broad scratches on each cheek, the middle scratch the longest and bisecting each eye. How that face was not blinded Ledare could not imagine, but she felt its eyes staring at her - staring through her - and then the face spoke in the same firm and unkind tone.
"Sit down, Ledare, lest I show you your place with my two moon blades," it said and Ledare sat unceremoniously upon the stone-tiled floor still staring up at the face. Slowly recognition dawned.
"Soriah!" Ledare managed, suddenly certain that it was she. A girl of just nineteen, scarred by a broad-banded hawk when she was very young, Soriah was the most devout Battleguard of Shaharizod Ledare had ever met. The girl was beautiful, Ledare realized, strong bold features yet softened by something else that gave her an air of knowledge beyond her years. Soriah raised the fur-lined cowl over her head as she laughed.
"Don't look so surprised to see me, Ledare," she said. "I have known I would be seeing you in this place since the day I met you. Remember that day? Remember Muddah? And Fendathial, who slew him?" Ledare's face began to twist in pain as she remembered back to Soriah before her death, Draelond, Ruze, Finian, Feln, and the foul fate that befell Kirnoth.
"Of course, you remember, Ledare. I know you do," Soriah told her, her voice as cold and hard as marble. "You wear it on your sleeve and countenance. That is why you are here. You have been chosen, child. You always have been but you did not know it... until now. Now is the time. It is here."
Ledare's thoughts began to wander, unbidden. She did not find it strange to be called child by a girl her own age, and she did know she has been carrying the death of her companions too long in her breast. "Am I dead?" she asked. "Is this how I come to speak to you, Soriah?"
Soriah laughed again, but now her voice was softer. "No, Ledare. You are not dead. No, not yet," she said. "And listen to me as a Battleguard of Shaharizod: their deaths are not your fault. You did not cause their deaths. Nor did you lead them to their deaths. Each one fought, as I fought, Chaos and Aphyx for our own reasons - for our own cause. Just as the Vla'rinnyn Quarth Sila do now. Do you dishonor their deaths? Do you mean to dishonor mine?"
Ledare shook her head as tears fell unbidden down her cheek. She did not want to forget or dishonor them.
"Then remember them. But do not carry their deaths in your heart," Soriah said as she reached out and tilted Ledare's chin up so that her tear-filled eyes were forced to meet her own. "Look at me Ledare. Do I look unhappy? I sit at the right hand of my Queen and I still do her work to fight the evil that has befouled our lands. Chaos grows strong now, Ledare, and you have been chosen not just to fight it but to lead that fight as well. Why do you think the name your companions chose for your group is an elven one? It could have just as easily been dwarvish or halfling, but it is elven - a tribute to your own heritage."
"Why do you think you out of all of us have survived?" Soriah pressed. "Just plain luck? Because you were chosen to lead rather than to fight in the fore? No. You survived because you have been chosen, Ledare."
Soriah released her hold on Ledare's face and folded her hands beneath her robes. "You are now a Jolidishi, Ledare. The time is now. Time to recognize and face what you truly are, to know your destiny, to unleash what your soul has been telling you these past few years."
"Am I now a fighter for Shaharizod? A Battleguard such as you, Soriah?' Ledare asked like a child.
"No, Ledare," Soriah chuckled again. "No, Child. The choice of Battleguard comes from within. Others do not make that choice for you - not even the gods. We each make our own choice, and your soul has already chosen, but it is now in this place that your soul seeks to reveal it to your mind. The time is now. Do you feel it?"
Ledare nodded eagerly, barely understanding but knowing deep in her soul that this was the time. She felt an urgency building in her chest that rapidly threatened to steal away her breath.
"Am I to follow Shaharizod then, as some kind of holy warrior?" she asked a little less the child this time, for she felt certain that she was very close to the truth of the matter.
"Are you?" countered Soriah, one golden eyebrow arching upward skeptically.
"No," Ledare answered softly, shaking her head as she thought about it. "No. That was the path you chose. I do not feel that is my path." And saying that, she rose and looked Soriah in the eyes speaking softly, but with utter conviction. "No. The path of the Battleguard is not for me. I know now that is not my calling. But the problem is, I do not know what path to take."
Soriah looked impassively at her for a time before she spoke. "Once you answer the question I put to you, then your soul's path will become visible to you," she said. "Then it is up to you to follow that path, Ledare." The half-elf nodded but Soriah raised a cautioning finger.
"But know this: to follow the path of your God is not easy," she warned. "You must put your God's wishes before your own. You must put forth the ideal of goodness and loyalty before yourself. For you, this will not be hard for you are a steadfast and loyal warrior. But sometime you will have to also put aside the safety of others for your cause. You may have to see even more of your companions fall to the powers of Chaos in your fight against it. And most importantly, you will have to lead them, Ledare. Even the strongest serpent needs a head to guide it."
"You will be fighting for more than just your king now, Ledare. You will be fighting for our very existance," Soriah went on. "The powers of Chaos grow strong and threaten my Queen's very substance. If my Queen and her allies fall, than the world as you know it shall cease to exist. What of your companions then, Ledare? I ask you to consider: what of them then?"
Moments more passed, then Soriah pulled back her hood and her hair was like a cascade of gold around her face; her eyes were like polished emeralds." I will tell you one last thing before I ask you your question. I was bade by my Queen, Shaharizod, to act as your conduit - your vessel in communion with the Goddess that has chosen you, child. Search in your heart for the answer to my question and answer the call of my Queen's daughter, for Flor has chosen you, child. From this moment on, if you choose wisely, your communion with the Daughter will be your own."
"Now kneel like this, Jolidishi," Soriah said and gently pushed Ledare's shoulders down and pushed Ledare onto her haunches so her buttocks rested on both feet equally, toes flat and to the back. Soriah lowered Ledare's head downward so her face mirrored the floor. "Always lower your face to your Mother and rest easy on your knees in supplication. And now, here is your question. I ask you Ledare: what has your soul chosen, and does the mind now see the path before it?"
Ledare thought for a moment before speaking, and then......
Ledare awoke.
And she knew her whole life had changed. Or perhaps not changed, but begun. The longstanding ache in her heart was missing but its void was all but unrecognizable. In its place was the strongest sense of purpose she had ever known. And a need to fulfill its duty ushered her into the new day.
It was not as difficult to wake up or to move or to breathe as she barely remembered it had been. Now she welcomed the chance to open her eyes and her heart to a new day, and was thankful that the opportunity to do so had been bestowed upon her. Before the first twitch of her body, she took a moment to thank Flor for rescuing her from her own demise, and pledged that she would use every breath to do what was right.
The prayer was a little awkward and sounded strange at first to Ledare's ears. But the fire of her life had been rekindled... from a small flame of duty to a roaring bonfire of devotion. She would carry the torch inside her now. And she felt incredibly blessed to do so. She knew for certain that she was now part of a light that could not be extinguished.
The fever was gone, but the weakness lingered. With some effort, Ledare pushed herself to a sitting position. and saw Karak, Ixin and Morier conferring with a blonde high elf she had never seen before.
"I know townspeople we could call on who can help us," the elf was saying. "Are you willing to travel into town?"
"Aye," Karak nodded. "That be our next course of action."
"In that case, we might call on the leaders of a nearby community. It sounds as if your cause is just and that would have them rally in support of you," the elf went on. "If I could get word to Geran I may be able to pull favor with the Mayor of Thumble, a man named Opeeindy, or possibly even with Baron Hunsa himself...."
"We were thinking of heading for Flavonshire," Ixin said and the elf nodded.
"Interesting choice, Flavonshire. Do you know people there?"
"No," Ixin said and her tone was somewhat gaurded. the elf didn't seem to notice.
"A difficult lot to work with, or so I am told. They do not often see what is good for the Kingdom, concerned with their own little adventures," he said. "Fine people though, very crafty. I have a piece of art hanging in my eska-nosse."
"Yer wha?" Karak grunted.
"His family home," Ledare translated and there was a flurry of activity as the others realized she was awake. Karak especially poked and prodded her, his thick fingers managing to unerringly find every tender spot on her body it seemed. At last she was able to push them aside and address the stranger.
"Who are you?" she asked. "And how is it you are so familiar with the land and people of this area?"
"I apologize for forgetting my manners," the elf said with a bow. "I am Uanabisayo Xilosnient of the Ten'Venielle and I would speak with the Janissary, Ledare Eelsof'faw."
"I am Janissary Ledare Eelsof'faw," she said. "Forgive me for not standing; I'm a little under the weather, so to speak."
"Think nothing of it," the elf replied. "Your friends have informed me of your situation."
"Are you skilled at all in healing?" she asked hopefully. "We have been fighting the blackest of evils and our party has been touched by its effects."
"I have heard of ancient beasts who can cause the body to wither and lose strength," Bisayo apologized "I have heard of them in tales, but I do not know the cure for such an ailment."
"In that case, perhaps we should get straight to business," the Janissary said graciously. "Why is it that you have come to seek me out? Do you bring a message from the king?"
"Ledare, Janissary to the king, Haermond III. I have met your king's people, although never the man in person. He is a good king and you are just to serve him," Bisayo said. "But it is not at his behest that I come to you, but rather at the bidding of my own king, Valenviel Sithrarion, Scion of the Cantes and Grand Architect of Galerideleli. Or rather, not directly at his behest, but as a result of his edict. I don't mean to suggest that I have personal contact with Valenviel Sithrarion. My father is Od'ahman, but even so..."
"Is 'e makin' any sense to you?" Karak stage whispered to Morier, elbowing the albino in the belly hard enough to make him grunt in surprise. The others turned to look and Bisayo continued with his tale.
"Part of the king's responsibility is for he and his court to make certain that high blood families are married correctly, so that important lands and names are maintained, for the stability and betterment of the elven kingdom as a whole," Bisayo explained, although Ledare was already familiar with the custom; it was one of the things that her father had had to overcome when he fell in love with her human mother. "King Valenviel Sithrarion, in his infinite wisdom, has decreed that the Ten'Venielle's next leader, my younger brother, Narguya, should be married to another family of great stature but little means from Galerideleli, itself, the Val Satha family."
"The maiden Kirelea, daughter of Curani Val Satha of Galerideleli, was chosen as my brother's bride-to-be," the elf annouce with pride. "Kirelea responded well to this betrothal but did make one request of her soon-to-be new family: seek out her brother and return him as an honored guest at the wedding."
"Not to sound impertinent, but what does that have to do with me?" Ledare asked.
"According to my inquiries, he was last seen traveling with you," Bisayo said. "I am quite certain that you know him. His name is Kirnoth."
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old school 1E
First Post
the plot thickens! 
(yep, i'm still around reading, although the holidays have taken their toll.)
(yep, i'm still around reading, although the holidays have taken their toll.)
Jon Potter
First Post
Glad you're still reading old school 1E
Yep. And mostly due to player-created situations.
That whole dreamquest bit with Ledare was co-written by Ledare's player and Karak's player (who also played Soriah before she died) with minimal intervention from me.
The Bisayo/Kirnoth connection was contrived by Bisayo's player (who played Feln prior to his untimely demise).
I think it's great that the players are driving the plot; it helps keep the game fresh.
(And speaking of fresh, I get to play in a 1E classic this coming Saturday, "Against the Giants"! ENWorld moderator and all-around nice guy, Henry, is running the session at the North Carolina Game Day and I can hardly wait!)
old school 1E said:the plot thickens!
Yep. And mostly due to player-created situations.
That whole dreamquest bit with Ledare was co-written by Ledare's player and Karak's player (who also played Soriah before she died) with minimal intervention from me.
The Bisayo/Kirnoth connection was contrived by Bisayo's player (who played Feln prior to his untimely demise).
I think it's great that the players are driving the plot; it helps keep the game fresh.
(And speaking of fresh, I get to play in a 1E classic this coming Saturday, "Against the Giants"! ENWorld moderator and all-around nice guy, Henry, is running the session at the North Carolina Game Day and I can hardly wait!)
Hairy Minotaur
Explorer
Jon Potter said:
Not only that, but it cuts down on DM work too!
Jon Potter
First Post
Hairy Minotaur said:Not only that, but it cuts down on DM work too!
Well, that too, of course!
Jon Potter
First Post
[Realms #300] The Long Walk
Ledare held Bisayo's gaze steadily for a few heartbeats longer than the elf was comfortable with, and he squirmed for a moment under the Janissary's scrutiny.
As for Ledare, she felt a rush of adrenaline at Kirnoth's name, but at the same time recognized that there was no longer any personal guilt associated with her memory of him. Only sadness. He'd been a good and valuable friend, but she'd lost him. With that in mind, she replied with carefully measured words. "You are correct," she told him. "I journeyed with Kirnoth for some time. But I'm afraid I cannot lead you to him."
"Why not?" Bisayo asked. "I have tracked your path for some time, and true, I did not hear much of Kirnoth's presence these last few days but I just assumed he scouted aheard or was quiet. What exactly happened to him?"
"Kirnoth's fate is... complicated. I honestly do not know if he is alive or dead," She said and then, after a long pause to collect her thoughts and bolster enough will to confront the loss again, she shared with the elf the details of their encounter with the skaven and of Kirnoth's subsequent disappearance. She finished by adding, "I have a feeling - a dread really - that he has met some foul fate and lives on now with dark purpose."
Bisayo considered her words and whatever he thought of the revelation, it did not show on his face.
"I imagine news of this nature isn't going to rest well within the monarchy," Ledare continued. "In truth, I can attest to nothing for certain, except that Kirnoth was bitten by skaven and disappeared. Perhaps you need say nothing until you are sure."
"Perhaps..." Bisayo agreed half-heartedly and a weighty pause settled over the little group. Ixin broke the momentary silence.
"I have heard this tale before, Ledare. And, as it did the last time, it sounds serious, but mundane. I don't see how we could possibly sidetrack to find Kirnoth at this point," she said. Her wings beat once against the air and pulled her easily to a standing position. "Perhaps Ledare could write a formal letter explaining that he is missing and presumed dead in the course of a mission for the king? Would that be enough for his sister?"
"I do not know," the elf said, looking up at Ixin. There was a sadness in his eyes, but it quickly vanished as his agile mind made note of something the drakeling had let slip. "I do not understand what you are side-tracking from? What are you doing way out here, anyway?"
"I- I-" Ixin sputtered, caught momentarily off her guard. Her aid came from an unsuspected quarter.
"Well, fancy pants, you do seem to know our little group's history 'ere, and we know little of yours," Karak grunted. The dwarf looked at Ledare and Ixin and asked, "Did we nae pass through some lands owned by the elves o' his clan? I do believe they let us pass."
"Yes. You did," Bisayo agreed. "I was notified of your presence when I returned to the very place from which I started my journey, some time ago. My kinsman are great warriors, and some were kind enough to escort me part of the way here."
"So you know why we're out here, then," Ixin recovered quickly. "We were tracking a killer."
"But the human I passed on my way here told me that there was more to it then that," Bisayo said. "He told me where to find you, but that you were not to be trusted."
"Grisham," Karak spat and Ledare wondered how long his venom was going to continue poisoning her and her companions.
"Let us say that we had a disagreement with Grisham and we parted ways," Ledare offered by way of explanation. "Anything more is perhaps a story for another time. But, I agree with Ixin: we cannot detour to help you with your search."
Bisayo reluctantly acknowledged his acceptance of this and the Janissary continued.
"However, it is quite possible that we may just encounter Kirnoth following our present course sooner than it would take you to find that very old trail on your own," Ledare suggested and the elf smiled. "If there are no objections, then I welcome you to journey with us."
Karak muttered something incomprehensible. Ixin offered no objection, but continued to study Ledare warily as if fearing their leader had gone mad. Morier - who was rarely one to speak anyway - merely nodded his head once.
"However, I want to be quite clear that getting Vade some help is our first and only priority right now," Ledare added before Bisayo could express more than a quick thanks.
"Of course!" the elf said, frowning sympathetically at Vade's little body. "I will be happy to help you carry your friend if need be... He looks so weak. I can keep some of his items in my bag as well. I am quite a good packer and can fit a lot of things in it!" He patted his worn leather satchel for emphasis and now it was Ledare's turn to squirm a little.
"While the intent is well meaning, I'm sure," she explained, "having only just met us and -"
"Oh, goodness!" Bisayo said with a smile. "Of course, you are right. I had not realized how that sounded until just now. Please, forget I said anything. The offer to carry him is still good, however."
"I think we'll manage," Karak said, looking at the elf's skinny arms and rolling his eyes. The dwarf then looked at Ledare and asked, "Are you strong enough to travel? I do nae know when you should start exerting yourself. Maybe I should carry your armour and -"
"Nonsense, Karak," Ledare dismissed the dwarf's comments. "I'll be ready to travel in the morning. We'll head out then to Flavonshire then on to the followers of Flor."
"I agree," Morier said. "Let's get moving at first light toward Redwood via Flavonshire."
In the morning, Vade stirred and the mood as they broke camp was greatly lightened by the halfling's apparent recovery. Not that he was in any great condition, but the very fact that he opened his eyes and they were unclouded by fever was a relief. Unsurprisingly, the first word out of his mouth was, "Thu... Thumble..."
It was also not surprising that the others ignored it.
Morier and Ixin were both still weakened from their bouts with the sickness, and Ledare was too depleted to wear her armor (although she insisted on carrying Ravager strapped across her back "for sentimental reasons"). So they re-distributed their supplies among those who could shoulder them and set out from the valley after bidding a farewell to Great Root.
Whether the treant was saddened or relieved to see them go was unclear, but the VQS was quite happy to leave the ancient guardian to his solitary duty.
My midday, Karak had begun to feel feverish and by nightfall, his impressive constitution had fought off the disease, although some mild weakness persisted. When he awoke in the morning, he was all but recovered.
No one had even realized he was sick.
Despite his feelings about the VQS, Grisham had taken some pains to blaze a trail for them to follow, so they made good time northward through Greenhill Woods. As the afternoon of Freeday wore on toward evening, they found a place where Grisham had made a camp. Karak spent a moment studying the ground before announcing that the barbarian had stayed a day or two in that very spot - most of it lying flat on his back. Ledare spotted some leaves nearby that were smeared with remnants of Laishaberries - a common folk remedy for several diseases.
It seemed likely that Grisham had come down with the same illness that had wracked the rest of them (with the exception of Bisayo, of course). The fact that his trail continued on indicated that he had eventually recovered and continued onward.
"I would rest much better in Thumble," Vade asserted as the group pressed on in Grisham's footsteps. "Everyone is really helpful there. In fact, Karak, I think Uncle Bob the second may actually have a potion of dwarven beard growing, but that was a while ago and it was more of a cream, from what I recall. Boy, did Trey ever look silly with a beard! Ha ha ha!"
Karak shook his head in frustration.
Throughout the following two days, it threatened rain. Dense clouds persisted above the treetops and strong wind whipped the canopy into a frenzy of hissing leaves and clattering limbs. It never actually precipitated, however and the Eginnion Road was dry when they finally left the forest and followed it down into the thorpe of Flavonshire.
"I wonder if my brothers think I am dead... or just lost?" Vade wondered aloud for what seemed like the 100th time (but really hadn't been too much more than 50). "I hope Mama does not worry and just thinks I am causing trouble somewhere. I want to let them know I am ok."
"Thumble..." Karak grumbled and spat. "We have no time to trip over halflings and your family. Why they will most certainly abound with a million questions and stories and moonpies and we'll never get to Redwood."
"It is a great place," Vade countered with a broad smile. "Everyone is just like me!"
Flavonshire was mostly as they remembered it although there was a wagon and a team of horses in front of The Hard Cider Tavern that hadn't been there on their last visit. Several bulky objects were secured beneath a canvas tarp in the bed of the wagon. The shrine to Flor was clearly visible and the yellow plague sign had been removed. Its front door stood open to allow fresh clean air to circulate within.
"That's promising," Ledare mused and they began trudging in that direction. Before they'd gotten too far, a figure stepped out from within the shrine. She was tall and broad-shouldered with the long blonde hair that was so common in the northern Realms. Her raiment was spotless white and she seemed almost to glow against the drab and muddy backdrop of Flavonshire. For a moment, Ledare thought that Soriah had miraculously returned to life, but the resemblance was merely superficial. This woman was lithe and sharp-faced and her eyes were as pale as cornflowers. She spotted them and turned so that everyone could see the pale blue teardrop that adorned the breast of her tabbard - one of the symbols of Flor. Once the group had advanced within hailing distance, she raised her hand in greeting.
"Ho there!" she shouted in accented common. "What brings you to this far land armed as you are and-" She got a good look at Ixin then and hastily ducked her head back into the shrine, calling for someone within.
After a moment, a second woman appeared in the doorway. Like the first, she was dressed in white, although her robes weren't quite as pristine as her counterpart's. Her hair was brown and wavy, held away from her cheerful face by a ribbon of blue. She carried a bucket of soapy water in one hand and a stiff-bristled brush in the other.
"What is it?" she asked as she exited. Then she spotted the VQS and smiled politely, adding, "Welcome to this Healing Hall of Flor, modest though it may be. I am Matriarch Lenoire and this is Betina Rouseau, Faithful Daughter of The White Lady. What may we do to aid you?"
Ledare held Bisayo's gaze steadily for a few heartbeats longer than the elf was comfortable with, and he squirmed for a moment under the Janissary's scrutiny.
As for Ledare, she felt a rush of adrenaline at Kirnoth's name, but at the same time recognized that there was no longer any personal guilt associated with her memory of him. Only sadness. He'd been a good and valuable friend, but she'd lost him. With that in mind, she replied with carefully measured words. "You are correct," she told him. "I journeyed with Kirnoth for some time. But I'm afraid I cannot lead you to him."
"Why not?" Bisayo asked. "I have tracked your path for some time, and true, I did not hear much of Kirnoth's presence these last few days but I just assumed he scouted aheard or was quiet. What exactly happened to him?"
"Kirnoth's fate is... complicated. I honestly do not know if he is alive or dead," She said and then, after a long pause to collect her thoughts and bolster enough will to confront the loss again, she shared with the elf the details of their encounter with the skaven and of Kirnoth's subsequent disappearance. She finished by adding, "I have a feeling - a dread really - that he has met some foul fate and lives on now with dark purpose."
Bisayo considered her words and whatever he thought of the revelation, it did not show on his face.
"I imagine news of this nature isn't going to rest well within the monarchy," Ledare continued. "In truth, I can attest to nothing for certain, except that Kirnoth was bitten by skaven and disappeared. Perhaps you need say nothing until you are sure."
"Perhaps..." Bisayo agreed half-heartedly and a weighty pause settled over the little group. Ixin broke the momentary silence.
"I have heard this tale before, Ledare. And, as it did the last time, it sounds serious, but mundane. I don't see how we could possibly sidetrack to find Kirnoth at this point," she said. Her wings beat once against the air and pulled her easily to a standing position. "Perhaps Ledare could write a formal letter explaining that he is missing and presumed dead in the course of a mission for the king? Would that be enough for his sister?"
"I do not know," the elf said, looking up at Ixin. There was a sadness in his eyes, but it quickly vanished as his agile mind made note of something the drakeling had let slip. "I do not understand what you are side-tracking from? What are you doing way out here, anyway?"
"I- I-" Ixin sputtered, caught momentarily off her guard. Her aid came from an unsuspected quarter.
"Well, fancy pants, you do seem to know our little group's history 'ere, and we know little of yours," Karak grunted. The dwarf looked at Ledare and Ixin and asked, "Did we nae pass through some lands owned by the elves o' his clan? I do believe they let us pass."
"Yes. You did," Bisayo agreed. "I was notified of your presence when I returned to the very place from which I started my journey, some time ago. My kinsman are great warriors, and some were kind enough to escort me part of the way here."
"So you know why we're out here, then," Ixin recovered quickly. "We were tracking a killer."
"But the human I passed on my way here told me that there was more to it then that," Bisayo said. "He told me where to find you, but that you were not to be trusted."
"Grisham," Karak spat and Ledare wondered how long his venom was going to continue poisoning her and her companions.
"Let us say that we had a disagreement with Grisham and we parted ways," Ledare offered by way of explanation. "Anything more is perhaps a story for another time. But, I agree with Ixin: we cannot detour to help you with your search."
Bisayo reluctantly acknowledged his acceptance of this and the Janissary continued.
"However, it is quite possible that we may just encounter Kirnoth following our present course sooner than it would take you to find that very old trail on your own," Ledare suggested and the elf smiled. "If there are no objections, then I welcome you to journey with us."
Karak muttered something incomprehensible. Ixin offered no objection, but continued to study Ledare warily as if fearing their leader had gone mad. Morier - who was rarely one to speak anyway - merely nodded his head once.
"However, I want to be quite clear that getting Vade some help is our first and only priority right now," Ledare added before Bisayo could express more than a quick thanks.
"Of course!" the elf said, frowning sympathetically at Vade's little body. "I will be happy to help you carry your friend if need be... He looks so weak. I can keep some of his items in my bag as well. I am quite a good packer and can fit a lot of things in it!" He patted his worn leather satchel for emphasis and now it was Ledare's turn to squirm a little.
"While the intent is well meaning, I'm sure," she explained, "having only just met us and -"
"Oh, goodness!" Bisayo said with a smile. "Of course, you are right. I had not realized how that sounded until just now. Please, forget I said anything. The offer to carry him is still good, however."
"I think we'll manage," Karak said, looking at the elf's skinny arms and rolling his eyes. The dwarf then looked at Ledare and asked, "Are you strong enough to travel? I do nae know when you should start exerting yourself. Maybe I should carry your armour and -"
"Nonsense, Karak," Ledare dismissed the dwarf's comments. "I'll be ready to travel in the morning. We'll head out then to Flavonshire then on to the followers of Flor."
"I agree," Morier said. "Let's get moving at first light toward Redwood via Flavonshire."
Godsday, the 11th of Reaping, 1269 AE
In the morning, Vade stirred and the mood as they broke camp was greatly lightened by the halfling's apparent recovery. Not that he was in any great condition, but the very fact that he opened his eyes and they were unclouded by fever was a relief. Unsurprisingly, the first word out of his mouth was, "Thu... Thumble..."
It was also not surprising that the others ignored it.
Morier and Ixin were both still weakened from their bouts with the sickness, and Ledare was too depleted to wear her armor (although she insisted on carrying Ravager strapped across her back "for sentimental reasons"). So they re-distributed their supplies among those who could shoulder them and set out from the valley after bidding a farewell to Great Root.
Whether the treant was saddened or relieved to see them go was unclear, but the VQS was quite happy to leave the ancient guardian to his solitary duty.
My midday, Karak had begun to feel feverish and by nightfall, his impressive constitution had fought off the disease, although some mild weakness persisted. When he awoke in the morning, he was all but recovered.
No one had even realized he was sick.
Waterday, the 12th - Freeday, the 14th of Reaping, 1269 AE
Despite his feelings about the VQS, Grisham had taken some pains to blaze a trail for them to follow, so they made good time northward through Greenhill Woods. As the afternoon of Freeday wore on toward evening, they found a place where Grisham had made a camp. Karak spent a moment studying the ground before announcing that the barbarian had stayed a day or two in that very spot - most of it lying flat on his back. Ledare spotted some leaves nearby that were smeared with remnants of Laishaberries - a common folk remedy for several diseases.
It seemed likely that Grisham had come down with the same illness that had wracked the rest of them (with the exception of Bisayo, of course). The fact that his trail continued on indicated that he had eventually recovered and continued onward.
"I would rest much better in Thumble," Vade asserted as the group pressed on in Grisham's footsteps. "Everyone is really helpful there. In fact, Karak, I think Uncle Bob the second may actually have a potion of dwarven beard growing, but that was a while ago and it was more of a cream, from what I recall. Boy, did Trey ever look silly with a beard! Ha ha ha!"
Karak shook his head in frustration.
Starday, the 15th & Sunday, the 16th of Reaping, 1269 AE
Throughout the following two days, it threatened rain. Dense clouds persisted above the treetops and strong wind whipped the canopy into a frenzy of hissing leaves and clattering limbs. It never actually precipitated, however and the Eginnion Road was dry when they finally left the forest and followed it down into the thorpe of Flavonshire.
"I wonder if my brothers think I am dead... or just lost?" Vade wondered aloud for what seemed like the 100th time (but really hadn't been too much more than 50). "I hope Mama does not worry and just thinks I am causing trouble somewhere. I want to let them know I am ok."
"Thumble..." Karak grumbled and spat. "We have no time to trip over halflings and your family. Why they will most certainly abound with a million questions and stories and moonpies and we'll never get to Redwood."
"It is a great place," Vade countered with a broad smile. "Everyone is just like me!"
Flavonshire was mostly as they remembered it although there was a wagon and a team of horses in front of The Hard Cider Tavern that hadn't been there on their last visit. Several bulky objects were secured beneath a canvas tarp in the bed of the wagon. The shrine to Flor was clearly visible and the yellow plague sign had been removed. Its front door stood open to allow fresh clean air to circulate within.
"That's promising," Ledare mused and they began trudging in that direction. Before they'd gotten too far, a figure stepped out from within the shrine. She was tall and broad-shouldered with the long blonde hair that was so common in the northern Realms. Her raiment was spotless white and she seemed almost to glow against the drab and muddy backdrop of Flavonshire. For a moment, Ledare thought that Soriah had miraculously returned to life, but the resemblance was merely superficial. This woman was lithe and sharp-faced and her eyes were as pale as cornflowers. She spotted them and turned so that everyone could see the pale blue teardrop that adorned the breast of her tabbard - one of the symbols of Flor. Once the group had advanced within hailing distance, she raised her hand in greeting.
"Ho there!" she shouted in accented common. "What brings you to this far land armed as you are and-" She got a good look at Ixin then and hastily ducked her head back into the shrine, calling for someone within.
After a moment, a second woman appeared in the doorway. Like the first, she was dressed in white, although her robes weren't quite as pristine as her counterpart's. Her hair was brown and wavy, held away from her cheerful face by a ribbon of blue. She carried a bucket of soapy water in one hand and a stiff-bristled brush in the other.
"What is it?" she asked as she exited. Then she spotted the VQS and smiled politely, adding, "Welcome to this Healing Hall of Flor, modest though it may be. I am Matriarch Lenoire and this is Betina Rouseau, Faithful Daughter of The White Lady. What may we do to aid you?"
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Jon Potter
First Post
[Realms #301] Sisters of Mercy
There was a definite flow of energy in the air that Ledare sensed at once; the hair on her neck seemed to bristle as she curiously studied the two women. There was an unmistakable familiarity about them - a feeling that she has felt at various times in her past, but had never been able to place. Now, as the sensation recurred, Ledare at last felt confident about its source. As Soriah had suggested: the time had come for her to understand herself. Feeling as if she has met the two women before, but sure at the same time that she had not, she stepped forward and spoke on behalf of the group.
"Thank you," she said with a smile. "In fact, we have been looking for you."
"You have?" the older woman asked with a bemused smile.
"Yes," the Janissary said, nearly laughing with contained excitement. "However, first there is a more pressing concern. Several members of our party have fallen ill, and the disease has gripped our halfling the worst."
"Oh dear," the woman replied with genuine concern. She looked at Vade, asking, "What has afflicted him?"
Vade seized the opportunity to put to good use all of his innate huckstering skill, responding in his most sympathy-inspiring voice complete with a pathetic grimace and huge puppy dog eyes. "I'm sick. I've got the Red Ache," he moaned. "Oooohhhhh, am I aching."
"Oi, I do believe we could use your help, lassie," Karak barked, stomping to the front of the group. He jostled Vade out of the way as he came. "If my chalak be here he would know how to say it better, but these two have been affected by the Red Ache the worst." He said, cocking a thumb at Vade and Ledare. He then pointed to Morier and Ixin before adding, "These two shrugged it off early on, but they should be cleaned out too."
"Is there someone who might tend to him?" Ledare translated the dwarf's blunt statement into a more diplomatically acceptable form.
"Certainly!" Matriarch Lenoire said, putting her pail and brush down so abruptly that soapy water sloshed out onto the hem of her skirt. "Please do come into the shrine. Sister Betina, please fetch my kit from the wagon."
"Yes, sister," the taller woman said before rushing off toward the wagon they all had seen parked in front of the tavern.
They followed the priestess of Flor into the small shrine and found it to be in the process of being renovated. Only Karak had entered the shrine on their first visit to Flavonshire, so only he was in a position to appreciate the difference that fresh whitewash and the smell of disinfectant made on the place. It was clear them all, that someone - presumably the two women - had been busy over the last several days.
Matriarch Lenoire drew Vade toward the altar and examined him by the light of the candles burning there. At once she announced, "The little one HAD the Red Ache, true enough. But he suffers from it no longer. I can help you with the weakness in the morning. Were you few the only ones afflicted?"
"Mostly," Karak told her and pointed at Bisayo. "As for fancy pants, here, well he just missed out on all the fun. We lost Feln to the beast. Poor orc blood was nothing but goo when I found 'im in the belly of the beast." Karak bowed his head a moment in reflection.
"What beast?" Sister Betina demanded as she ducked into the shrine, a massive healer's kit in her arms. There was a look of concern on her face, but also one of resolve.
"Perhaps we should explain what we're about?" Morier suggested and Karak nodded.
"Aye, lass," he said to Ledare. "I do beleive these be the followers of Flor we been lookin' for. Makes sense to tell 'em what's what." The Janissary nodded in agreement before turning back to Matriarch Lenoire.
"We come from Barnacus and travel to Myth Drannor to do what we can in the battle against Aphyx," she said and saw Sister Betina make the sign of the dove at mention of the Diseased One. "We carry an important message from the Great Oak."
"Aye," Karak added. "The great big Tree wanted us to let ye know that 'is shrine be all but empty. If ye would be so kind as to go reconsecrate the shrine, it would be a great help to the fight against Chaos."
Matriarch Lenoire looked confused. She blinked as she tried to make sense of what she was being told. "I'm afraid I don't understand what you're telling me. A tree asked you to have me reconsecrate a shrine?"
"Well, not you specifically," Vade added. "He just said to find followers of Flor and pointed us in this direction. You're the first followers of Flor that we've come across."
"A tree said this?" the woman asked again, her voice dripping with incredulity. But the others nodded ernestly.
"Perhaps they were meant to find Brother Simon?" Betina offered. "If not for his death, we would not be here. And he was a follower of Flor." Matriarch Lenoire nodded.
"Perhaps," she said. "That would make some sense since it was a follower of Lady Death that slew Brother Simon in the first place. Or so his spirit intimated."
"What do you mean?" Ledare asked.
"We were summoned to Flavonshire by a rider dispatched by the shire reeve, Goodman Hillshire. When we arrived we found Simon, the former patriarch of this Healing Hall, dead by magic most foul," the woman explained gravely. As she spoke, she looked at the spot on the floor where Karak had seen the corpse laid out. "It was well beyond my power to bring Patriarch Simon back from Myrkhul's shadowy hall, but I called upon the White Lady to allow me to speak with his spirit and he related to me the events leading up to his death at the hands of one he had once called friend."
"You have heard of Plonius? The Hound?" Betina interrupted. All of the companions nodded.
"Well, Simon had always looked up to the man; it was the Hound who put him on the path to Flor," Lenoire continued. "When he saw Plonius approach, Simon was overjoyed at his good fortune and rushed up to greet the ranger. It was clear that something was wrong at once, for Plonius seemed not to know him, and rather than greet his friend, tried to put him off. But Simon was insistent... and then he noticed the unholy symbol Plonius was wearing around his neck and recognized it immediately as being the Rot Queen's."
"A snake swallowing its tail," Karak grunted. "With a rat's skull in the middle."
"Yes," Sister Lenoire admitted sadly. "It seems the shock of discovering that his childhood hero was a follower of the evil goddess of disease was almost too much for Simon to take. But with the zeal of a newly-ordained priest, he pushed aside his feelings of confusion and betrayal and called upon the power of Flor to sustain him. Simon's last memory is of Plonius snarling at him wickedly and invoking divine magic of such potency that he was slain at once."
"We have heard this tale from one of the villagers who witnessed the incident," Ledare said. "And we have uncovered some things that might shed some further light on the matter."
"Listen close, fancy pants," Karak said to Bisayo as Ixin and Ledare began to weave the tale of their recent past. "Ye wanted to hear what we been doin' and 'ere be your chance."
"I have a feeling you may already be aware of a great evil pushing its way into this land," Ixin told the two women. "Aphyx is behind it but she has many powerful minions. We have been traveling throughout this area, trying to find clues to help us stop the spread of chaos. We have won some battles, but there is much yet to do..."
The light outside had dimmed toward sundown by the time the VQS had fully recounted their adventures opposing Aphyx. Sisters Lenoire and Betina's moods had likewise darkened with the telling.
"We have several places we need to get to: Myth Drannor to find further assistance and Rhadcliffe to fight more evil," Ixin told them. "Do you have any idea about how to get quickly to either of those places? Preferably Myth Drannor first."
"What about Thumble?" Vade interjected. "Have either of you been there lately? Have you ever heard of Vadenhuffer Briarhopper or Mama Briarhopper?"
"Shush, hobbit!" Karak growled, waving his waraxe in Vade's general direction.
"We passed the road to Thumble on our way to Flavonshire," Betina told the halfling. "But we did not stop."
"About Myth Drannor, I know nothing," Matriarch Lenoire replied. "But I am familiar with Rhadcliffe; it lies in Pellham. We Florians consider it a major holy site. There is a temple there that houses a statue of Saint Dridanis. Any who touch the holy statue are cured of disease."
"I doubt that evil could long go unnoticed in Rhadcliffe," Betina added. "But I am troubled by mention of the two using the same breath."
"As am I, sister," Lenoire admitted and got to her feet. She produced a key from her robe and offered it to Ledare. "We have a room at The Hard Cider Tavern - the only room in town, from what I understand. You folk are welcome to stay there for the night."
"What of you?" Ledare asked as she accepted the key.
"The Faithful Daughter and I have much praying to do," Matriarch Lenoire explained. "We need the Gentle Lady's guidance and answers will not come more easily within the walls of the shrine."
"We will have answers in the morning," Betina said. Looking at Ledare, she added, "Perhaps you would like to join us?"
Without hesitation, Ledare said, "I would." She handed a bewildered Ixin the room key and shrugged Ravager off her shoulder. Ixin looked at Karak and the dwarf shrugged.
"I could go for a spot of ale," he said as he turned to leave.
There was a definite flow of energy in the air that Ledare sensed at once; the hair on her neck seemed to bristle as she curiously studied the two women. There was an unmistakable familiarity about them - a feeling that she has felt at various times in her past, but had never been able to place. Now, as the sensation recurred, Ledare at last felt confident about its source. As Soriah had suggested: the time had come for her to understand herself. Feeling as if she has met the two women before, but sure at the same time that she had not, she stepped forward and spoke on behalf of the group.
"Thank you," she said with a smile. "In fact, we have been looking for you."
"You have?" the older woman asked with a bemused smile.
"Yes," the Janissary said, nearly laughing with contained excitement. "However, first there is a more pressing concern. Several members of our party have fallen ill, and the disease has gripped our halfling the worst."
"Oh dear," the woman replied with genuine concern. She looked at Vade, asking, "What has afflicted him?"
Vade seized the opportunity to put to good use all of his innate huckstering skill, responding in his most sympathy-inspiring voice complete with a pathetic grimace and huge puppy dog eyes. "I'm sick. I've got the Red Ache," he moaned. "Oooohhhhh, am I aching."
"Oi, I do believe we could use your help, lassie," Karak barked, stomping to the front of the group. He jostled Vade out of the way as he came. "If my chalak be here he would know how to say it better, but these two have been affected by the Red Ache the worst." He said, cocking a thumb at Vade and Ledare. He then pointed to Morier and Ixin before adding, "These two shrugged it off early on, but they should be cleaned out too."
"Is there someone who might tend to him?" Ledare translated the dwarf's blunt statement into a more diplomatically acceptable form.
"Certainly!" Matriarch Lenoire said, putting her pail and brush down so abruptly that soapy water sloshed out onto the hem of her skirt. "Please do come into the shrine. Sister Betina, please fetch my kit from the wagon."
"Yes, sister," the taller woman said before rushing off toward the wagon they all had seen parked in front of the tavern.
They followed the priestess of Flor into the small shrine and found it to be in the process of being renovated. Only Karak had entered the shrine on their first visit to Flavonshire, so only he was in a position to appreciate the difference that fresh whitewash and the smell of disinfectant made on the place. It was clear them all, that someone - presumably the two women - had been busy over the last several days.
Matriarch Lenoire drew Vade toward the altar and examined him by the light of the candles burning there. At once she announced, "The little one HAD the Red Ache, true enough. But he suffers from it no longer. I can help you with the weakness in the morning. Were you few the only ones afflicted?"
"Mostly," Karak told her and pointed at Bisayo. "As for fancy pants, here, well he just missed out on all the fun. We lost Feln to the beast. Poor orc blood was nothing but goo when I found 'im in the belly of the beast." Karak bowed his head a moment in reflection.
"What beast?" Sister Betina demanded as she ducked into the shrine, a massive healer's kit in her arms. There was a look of concern on her face, but also one of resolve.
"Perhaps we should explain what we're about?" Morier suggested and Karak nodded.
"Aye, lass," he said to Ledare. "I do beleive these be the followers of Flor we been lookin' for. Makes sense to tell 'em what's what." The Janissary nodded in agreement before turning back to Matriarch Lenoire.
"We come from Barnacus and travel to Myth Drannor to do what we can in the battle against Aphyx," she said and saw Sister Betina make the sign of the dove at mention of the Diseased One. "We carry an important message from the Great Oak."
"Aye," Karak added. "The great big Tree wanted us to let ye know that 'is shrine be all but empty. If ye would be so kind as to go reconsecrate the shrine, it would be a great help to the fight against Chaos."
Matriarch Lenoire looked confused. She blinked as she tried to make sense of what she was being told. "I'm afraid I don't understand what you're telling me. A tree asked you to have me reconsecrate a shrine?"
"Well, not you specifically," Vade added. "He just said to find followers of Flor and pointed us in this direction. You're the first followers of Flor that we've come across."
"A tree said this?" the woman asked again, her voice dripping with incredulity. But the others nodded ernestly.
"Perhaps they were meant to find Brother Simon?" Betina offered. "If not for his death, we would not be here. And he was a follower of Flor." Matriarch Lenoire nodded.
"Perhaps," she said. "That would make some sense since it was a follower of Lady Death that slew Brother Simon in the first place. Or so his spirit intimated."
"What do you mean?" Ledare asked.
"We were summoned to Flavonshire by a rider dispatched by the shire reeve, Goodman Hillshire. When we arrived we found Simon, the former patriarch of this Healing Hall, dead by magic most foul," the woman explained gravely. As she spoke, she looked at the spot on the floor where Karak had seen the corpse laid out. "It was well beyond my power to bring Patriarch Simon back from Myrkhul's shadowy hall, but I called upon the White Lady to allow me to speak with his spirit and he related to me the events leading up to his death at the hands of one he had once called friend."
"You have heard of Plonius? The Hound?" Betina interrupted. All of the companions nodded.
"Well, Simon had always looked up to the man; it was the Hound who put him on the path to Flor," Lenoire continued. "When he saw Plonius approach, Simon was overjoyed at his good fortune and rushed up to greet the ranger. It was clear that something was wrong at once, for Plonius seemed not to know him, and rather than greet his friend, tried to put him off. But Simon was insistent... and then he noticed the unholy symbol Plonius was wearing around his neck and recognized it immediately as being the Rot Queen's."
"A snake swallowing its tail," Karak grunted. "With a rat's skull in the middle."
"Yes," Sister Lenoire admitted sadly. "It seems the shock of discovering that his childhood hero was a follower of the evil goddess of disease was almost too much for Simon to take. But with the zeal of a newly-ordained priest, he pushed aside his feelings of confusion and betrayal and called upon the power of Flor to sustain him. Simon's last memory is of Plonius snarling at him wickedly and invoking divine magic of such potency that he was slain at once."
"We have heard this tale from one of the villagers who witnessed the incident," Ledare said. "And we have uncovered some things that might shed some further light on the matter."
"Listen close, fancy pants," Karak said to Bisayo as Ixin and Ledare began to weave the tale of their recent past. "Ye wanted to hear what we been doin' and 'ere be your chance."
"I have a feeling you may already be aware of a great evil pushing its way into this land," Ixin told the two women. "Aphyx is behind it but she has many powerful minions. We have been traveling throughout this area, trying to find clues to help us stop the spread of chaos. We have won some battles, but there is much yet to do..."
The light outside had dimmed toward sundown by the time the VQS had fully recounted their adventures opposing Aphyx. Sisters Lenoire and Betina's moods had likewise darkened with the telling.
"We have several places we need to get to: Myth Drannor to find further assistance and Rhadcliffe to fight more evil," Ixin told them. "Do you have any idea about how to get quickly to either of those places? Preferably Myth Drannor first."
"What about Thumble?" Vade interjected. "Have either of you been there lately? Have you ever heard of Vadenhuffer Briarhopper or Mama Briarhopper?"
"Shush, hobbit!" Karak growled, waving his waraxe in Vade's general direction.
"We passed the road to Thumble on our way to Flavonshire," Betina told the halfling. "But we did not stop."
"About Myth Drannor, I know nothing," Matriarch Lenoire replied. "But I am familiar with Rhadcliffe; it lies in Pellham. We Florians consider it a major holy site. There is a temple there that houses a statue of Saint Dridanis. Any who touch the holy statue are cured of disease."
"I doubt that evil could long go unnoticed in Rhadcliffe," Betina added. "But I am troubled by mention of the two using the same breath."
"As am I, sister," Lenoire admitted and got to her feet. She produced a key from her robe and offered it to Ledare. "We have a room at The Hard Cider Tavern - the only room in town, from what I understand. You folk are welcome to stay there for the night."
"What of you?" Ledare asked as she accepted the key.
"The Faithful Daughter and I have much praying to do," Matriarch Lenoire explained. "We need the Gentle Lady's guidance and answers will not come more easily within the walls of the shrine."
"We will have answers in the morning," Betina said. Looking at Ledare, she added, "Perhaps you would like to join us?"
Without hesitation, Ledare said, "I would." She handed a bewildered Ixin the room key and shrugged Ravager off her shoulder. Ixin looked at Karak and the dwarf shrugged.
"I could go for a spot of ale," he said as he turned to leave.
Hairy Minotaur
Explorer
Ah! I see Thumble got worked in.
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