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

Reply to thread

Message: <blockquote data-quote="Ruined" data-source="post: 761566" data-attributes="member: 113">1st of Chardot, ‘Divinities Day’ yr. 150 A.V., continuedTréan noted the dark-clothed woman speaking with Helena at the front of the tent. The women were amicable in their conversation, bearing smiles and speaking in pleasant tones, but underneath there was tension. She could feel it from Helena, and it seemed to be mirrored in the other woman. Setting down the ewer in her hands, Tréan tried to remain inconspicuous as she neared the two women.As she moved closer, she deduced why the women might be ill at ease. The unknown woman was cooling herself with a black fan that bore a silver circle – the symbol of Belsameth. The Slayer. The Goddess of Death and Darkness. And Madriel’s twin sister. There was an unspoken rivalry between the two religious orders that approached but never quite erupted into violence.Helena noticed Tréan’s approach, and turned to introduce the woman before them.“Ah Tréan, this is Tessa, one of the visiting priestesses of Belsameth.”The woman turned and smiled at Tréan, extending her hand in greeting. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, young lady.Tessa was years older than Helena, but still retained a dark beauty. The woman’s gaze lingered, making Tréan distinctly uncomfortable. After a moment, she smiled and resumed conversation with Helena.“They say that Satrap Olem will make his public appearance near noon today.” Tessa motioned to a decorated building with a large balcony overlooking the market square. The Satrap was the provincial governor of Zathiske, ruling on behalf of Virduk, King of Calastia. His address would commence the major festivities of the day, and would be witnessed by all who could fill the square.Helena and Tessa spoke for a while longer, allowing Tréan to escape and work with those who wished to pay homage to Madriel. Every so often, she could feel the Belsameth priestess’ eyes upon her, but their gazes never met again. Within an hour, the two women had resumed their work tending to the masses. “Excuse me, ladies,” called a steady voice. They both looked up to see a strong, clean-shaven man. His hair was cut close in the Ankilan style. Were it not for the lack of uniform, Tréan would have guessed him a soldier.“Yes, child?” Helena asked.“I have a friend who is gravely wounded.” He paused, looking for the right words. “I believe he is dying. I seek your help.”Tréan glanced around, but the man was alone. She did note that his forearm had the stain of blood upon it. “Is he here?” she asked.“No, but he is within the city.”The two women shared a look of concern before Helena responded.“If you bring him to us…”“Please,” he interrupted. “I should not move him, and I fear that his time is short. If this will help…,” he said, rummaging through his belt pouch. Tréan guessed he would hand them coins to sway them, but was surprised when he brought forth a golden disc bearing regal symbols. Helena held it and examined it for a moment before turning back to Tréan.“Tréan, I will watch over things here. Please go with this man and see what can be done.”Tréan studied the man, wondering what messy situation he had come from. She could not decide what to make of him, but she could tell that he was sincerely concerned about his friend. There was not the time nor need for her armor, but she did retrieve her spear. If this man was leading her into danger, she would at least be partially prepared.***A few stalls over from the blue-and-white tent of the Madriel-worshippers, Silas watched the events with interest. He had been making a donation to the Hedradan faith when he spotted a man who bore a striking resemblance to one of the bounties. Getting a better look, he knew it was the one that Lorehn had said was protected: Gerad Caedmon.Silas pretended to sift through items at a silk vendor while watching Gerad with keen eyes. The crowd noise prevented him from hearing anything, but he did note the golden seal that Gerad presented and the change in the priestesses’ demeanor. When he left with one of the females, Silas decided to follow. He may not turn this one in for profit, but he was interested in why he was being protected.With practiced ease, Silas moved through the crowds after his quarry.***Surielle kept to herself as she moved through the unkempt streets of Quelsk. Instincts had taken her away from the crowded walkways and into less sanitary back streets. This helped to remind her why she stayed away from cities: the smells were horrific and there was such a lack of flora. How could people willingly choose to live like this?A wooden crate fell into the walkway ten paces ahead of her, startling her out of her thoughts. Sounds of wet coughing emanated from the alley. Surielle took a few steps until she could see the source of the coughs – a man slumped over on his side. Without hesitation, Surielle knelt to the man’s side. He had a large seeping wound to his side, and Surielle could visibly see his organs within. He would not live long without her help.“North…” the fallen man began. ”Must get North.”  Surielle attempted to quiet the man, and cast cure moderate wounds. His wounds began to knit together and she could see a flicker of life return to his eyes. His bloody hand grasped the folds of her shirt with surprising strength.“I have to get North. I…” he stopped to grunt, as if suddenly experiencing the pain of his existing wounds. Once his eyes opened, he seemed to take in Surielle’s appearance for the first time. “You. You could take it.”Surielle wasn’t sure she wanted to get any more involved with this man. She started to rise, but he reached out and clasped his hand around her red and gold amulet. He changed the pitch of his voice, speaking in a language Surielle could not place. It quickly dawned upon her – magic.She felt transfixed as he rattled on in the foreign tongue. On he droned, and not once did his words seem to falter. Finally, he finished into a fit of coughing, releasing his grip on her Sisterhood amulet. She involuntarily took a few steps back from this strange man.“Go North. Find Kelkarrin, the mage.”“Who? I don’t…”The crack of a crossbow sounded behind Surielle, and she watched with horror as a bolt buried deep into the wounded man’s chest. She cried out and spun to face a group of men clad in the black armor of the Calastian Hegemony. One younger man stood at the forefront of the group, his head free of the plumed helms worn by his fellow soldiers. In his hands rested an empty crossbow.“Leave no witnesses. Make sure Marus dies. And kill the wench as well.”</blockquote>

Verification