[Realms #325] Floxen
Karak was plagued by thoughts that would not let him sleep. He sat atop the small chest of coins that the Great Oak had given him. Fifty karn-a-karn's worth of gold and platinum glittered within - more than enough, he thought, to enchant his waraxe. But...
He glanced over at the tightly wrapped bundle that was Ledare's body and sighed.
Might that coin buy him some favor from the clergy back in Floxen? Would it be enough to get the Janissary raised from the dead? He wondered and the indecision kept him up for longer than his aching body would have liked. Before sleep finally took him, he said a prayer for guidance to the Silver Queen.
Karak thought, perhaps, that Shaharizod might appear to him in his dream.
But as he drew closer to the figure standing in the blue light alone in the center of the temple, recognition washed over him. It was Ledare, looking quite unlike herself. Her auburn hair was long and pulled back from her face. She had neither sword nor armor, but instead wore a white, sleeveless robe trimmed in gold which cascaded to the ground like liquid. She smiled at him, and Karak knew in an instant what the dream was about as he felt all his inclinations to put forth her resurrection money wash away. She did not speak, but smiled knowingly, and with a single graceful movement gestured to a trunk at her feet.
Curiously, Karak moved closer and with both hands lifted the heavy wooden lid to find his waraxe within, glowing with a new light.
He awoke with a start, his waraxe clutched firmly in his white-knuckled hands. It wasn't glowing - not yet anyway - but he now felt confident that it would be ere long. Grinning to himself, he sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and looked around him. It was well into the evening and, apart from their sentry, the other members of the VQS slept. Shamalin was up as well, he saw, and she regarded Karak with unblinking, sleepless eyes that shone like freshly-minted pekarns in the firelight. The dwarf felt his smile falter as he beheld the haunted half-elf; in the orange glow of the campfire, she looked eerily like Ledare.
Karak harrumphed softly and got to his feet. He loosened his holy symbol and went to the Janissary's body, ready to spend as long as it took to convince himself that her spirit had moved on...
Moonsday, the 29th - Godsday, the 30th of Goodmonth, 1269 AE
At dawn on Moonsday, they went about the business of quickly examining and cataloging properly the array of valuables they'd acquired. The bulk of the haul was non-magical, composed of nineteen paired masterwork bastard swords and daggers, but there was a considerable number of enchanted objects as well. Among those was a dozen unmarked potions and a collection of gear that Shamalin tearfully identified as belonging originally to the members of the Speckled Band. She took the six silver rings flecked with obsidian chips that had been the groups' symbol and dropped down to the ground away from the group to cry over them.
Huzair made a quick show of identifying all of the potions save three by unstoppering the vials and taking a single whiff of the contents. Of those three, his familiar, Sparky, was able to recognize one as a potion of
Barkskin, leaving two for Morier to suss out. The eldritch warrior did so, albeit more slowly and with less flamboyance than Huzair, and reluctantly, the wizard drew three additional vials from his haversack for Morier to look at. "Oh yeah, I almost forgot. I found these on the Plaguebringer," he said, earning a disapproving scowl from Karak.
"Ye're holdin' out on us, wizard," the dwarf growled and Huzair made a dismissing sound.
"Hey, I showed them to you, didnt I?" he retorted, rolling his eyes. "Just worry about your damned axe. And you are welcome for identifiying your potions, by the way."
Huzair was quite plain in his desire for the spellbook that had belonged to the elven wizard with whom Shamalin had previously adventured. He was practically drooling after he'd used
Read Magic to determine its contents; there were several rare spells of eldritch might that he'd heard of but for which he'd never seen the formulae.
When they made camp on Moonsday evening, Shamalin approached Huzair as the mage was gleefully examining the book. "The keeper of this book was a true friend of mine," she said in a small voice. "May it lend you strength in your endeavors."
"Thanks," he said. "It's good to have someone be nice to me. Everyone else in the VQS hates me... I at least need someone who can tolerate me." Shamalin regarded him levelly and said nothing while he fished in his haversack for some cigars.
"Do you smoke?" he asked as he produced two cigars and offered her one. She shook her head, no, and the mage sighed. "Darn." After he had his own burning well, he confided in the cleric, "The only two members of the VQS that I like were killed: Hildi and Ledare. Oh, that Morier guy... Well, my father says I should be more like him. I wonder if his father says he should be more like me?" He grinned at that thought while Shamalin said nothing, filing it away as worthy of remembrance.
It was after nightfall on Godsday when they finally reached the healing hall of Flor in Floxen. After all they'd lost and been through since leaving it on Earthday, the sight of its whitewashed walls gleaming in the moonslight was most welcoming. Shamalin, however, seemed conflicted upon seeing the temple, and drew more deeply inside herself as they approached.
Once inside, the half elf was swept up in a flurry of white robed priestesses and rushed off to a private infirmary somewhere within the temple proper, leaving the VQS standing dumbly in the hospital room that was the main chamber of the temple.
"Oi!" Karak grumbled, snagging the arm of a passing nurse. "I'd speak with Mellona. We've unfinished business."
"Certainly," the novititate said politely. "I'll fetch her, Please wait here." Karak nodded but instead stamped outside to gather Ledare's body from the wagon. He brought the corpse inside and lay it down on an empty bed with a gentleness that belied his gruff nature. He opened the body's wrapping enough to expose Ledare's dead face and reverently moved her hair from her eyes. Karak backed away slowly while still looking down at the still form. At last he heard the priestess approaching and he raised his eyes to heavens fingering his brother's holy symbol... "Again, I wish you were here, me chalak, I miss ye so still," Karak sighed. "I never quite know what to say at times like this."
Matriarch Mellona stepped serenely into their presence, exuding an aura of calm that seemed to gently wrap each member of the VQS in hope. "I have heard the tiniest bit from Sister Shamlin of the woes that befell Miller's Pond," the woman siad. "Flor has lost two of her faithful in order to rescue one from her enemies."
"It seems to me that Ledare was just coming in to her own: knowing where she fit in and what she was meant to do," Karak told the high priestess. "And what she was meant to do, she died bravely doin'. And, that's fightin' Chaos filth." The dwarf spit at his feet and Mellona looked pointedly at the splatter on the white tiled floor.
"Truly," she said. "It is a Faithful Daughter's duty and honor to resist the Rot Queen where ever she is encountered."
"Aye," the dwarf nodded. "It do seem, however, that this filth be of a higher power than we be used to facin' and, well, I could not distract it long enough or kill it quick enough to stop this from happenin'." Karak gestured sadly to Ledare's corpse and sighed again. "When the Chaos Knight entered it's death throes - which I could nae have done but for Morier's quick-minded action in disarmin' the thing - you see... when I killed it, it exploded and, well, took out all around it. Hildagunna, the poor lassie, and Ledare did nae survive. Whiped out Morier pretty good, too. Me, well, it'll take more than an explodin' Chaos scum to get me, I reckon. But the Lass she could not make it, and I knew she lied too far beyond me powers to bring her back."
"Ledare and Hildegunna take the path to Myrkuhl's realm, now, good dwarf," the cleric told him. "There is no shame for you that you did not prevent this journey. It is good to think that they might be taking the Walk of a Hundred Days hand-in-hand." Those who had noted the two women's feeling toward one another had a difficult time imagining that. Karak harrumphed at the image and shook his head.
"No. I'd like to request that you bring her back to us, Holy Priestess," he said and Mellona raised an eyebrow. "I do nae know how it works, but I do know Ledare deserves it. And I have this to offer." He showed her his chest of coins and Melonna's other eyebrow joined the first in surprise. "This was given to me by the Great Oak to purchase a magic war axe so I might better be able to smite chaos with it. I suppose I am getting used to this long poker and shield. But I hereby bequeath my chest of gold to bring back Ledare and cure Morier of the malady that has sticken him in the battle."
"Good dwarf-" Mellona started to say, but Karak pressed on.
"Our wagon outside's loaded down with what was left at the manor. We shall take what we need to continue the fight, and donate or sell the rest for items we need on our journey," he explained. "I know the charges in me healin' sticks are wearin' thin, I might need to freshen them up a bit. I am sure glad that I can also present to you the priestess Shamalin that Ledare and Hilde died gettin' to. But from the look of the lassie she was worth it. Lookin' like she stood up to a good amount of evil torture, and I sure respect her for that."
"Yes, she has endured much," the Matriarch agreed. "And if not for your intervention, even now her soul might be enduring yet more abuse in the lower realms."
"Aye!" Karak scowled at the thought. "And knowin' that, I hope I am not out of place here in askin' for Ledare to be returned to us. I have dreams for me axe but... well, they can wait. I will defer to what you choose. I am also worried of the items of power especially the heavy armour and that wicked mace." Karak spit again and Mellona's lip curled in disgust. "I will not have cursed items in my midst, Priestess. I wonder if we offer enough for ye to make sure they are not cursed."
"Certainly, we will examine any items you suspect of being tainted. That is no trouble at all," the Matriarch explained. "But resurrecting Faithful Daughter Ledare is another matter, good dwarf. And it is not a matter of money, although certainly such would be required. Ledare must want to return, and it is beyond rare for one of the faithful to look upon Lady Mercy's divine grace and willing turn away from it."
"But, ye'll try?" Karak asked and something in his face brought a smile to Mellona's lips.
"I will pray on it, good dwarf," she said, laying a hand on his shoulder. "There is no animosity between Lady Mercy and Lady Death, but Myrkuhl is loath to part with a soul once it begins its journey toward judgment." Karak nodded his acceptance.
"That's all I can ask of ye," he admitted. "And that is all I have to say on this sad but happy reunion of one of your flock returning to the fold." Huzair made a loud sound like someone holding back tears, but when the others turned to look at him, his face was expressionless.
"I need a drink," he said and headed for the exit.
The sound of soft knocking entered the sanctuary of the room. Shamalin stirred. The priestesses had come and gone silently tending to her, but had not knocked. Someone wished to speak to her, she knew. And a strange sensation, not unlike fear, assailed her. From where she lay, she watched as the door quietly opened and Mellona regarded her from the threshold. Shamalin dropped her gaze to the floor, not knowing at all what to say. She struggled to keep at bay the unspeakable horrors which had taken hold of her whole being and would not let go. Uncontrollably, her body began to shake.
"Child," Mellona soothed as she crossed to the half-elf's bedside. "You are safe now. Flor has returned you to us." Shamalin thought upon the irony of such a statement. How could she tell Mellona that she had renounced Flor - first in an effort to appease her captor, then later in earnest when there had been nothing left? How could she voice the dark truth within her... that returning her to the land of the living was nothing less than punishment. Flor would not have her. No one would have her.
Mellona took her silence in stride and continued. "You have been through so much. Speak to the goddess and let her heal your heart." Shamalin kept her gaze rooted to the floor. It was wrong to be filled with so much anger and doubt. Mellona had always been a friend to her. And yet, Shamalin felt a twist of rage within her at the instruction. Heal her heart? What about the hearts of her comrades - torn from their bodies by the Death Knight. No, her body could be healed, perhaps, but her soul was scarred beyond repair...
