A Walker's Tale -- Excerpts

[Dorganath]

...”I see many have tried to use this tome,” said the luminous figure and he studied the open book in his hands. “It is the one which I was most concerned with...  It was too accessible and easily modified for my tastes. Even if the immediate changes would only occur with one keyed to it, it still left too much open.”  The figure paused only briefly in his comment. “And even more so, it was the only book which could be depowered, and if it remained too much time in such a state, the barriers of calls would begin falling all around the continent...which generally doesn't start a good season.”
 
 “I have heard this possibility, yes,” said the half-elf, dutifully listening to the words from this being of magic.
 
 “It is in its depowered state after someone attempted to access its primal summonings,” declared the figure. “Only very few and quite dangerous creatures answer those summons.”
 
 “Ah, so it defended itself?”
 
 The figure nodded. “It defended itself but expended all its energy in it.”
 
The black-haired halfling spoke up, “Erased its pages in self-defense!”
 
“There is a worm whose stomach holds a void portal to a treacherous and horrible place,” mused the figure. “It is in constant pain and always seeks to feed itself, for in doing so they are able to stop the pain temporarily.  It is the size of many oaken trees laid together and it never ceases feeding.   “That would have been the first...they are always the first...”  Another halfling bearing the standard of a dragon god wrinkles her nose at the description.
 
 What passed for eyes in this curious creature's face took on a distant look, perhaps getting lost in a memory for a moment before snapping back to the here and now. “But we are able to fix this,” he said at last.  A smile appeared on the half-elf's face, perhaps the first real smile he's had in a few days. The figure closed the book and turned it to properly face the man.  He started to reach for it but stopped in his actions as the figure performed a simple summoning.
 
 What seems like a golden receptacle appeared on the cover of the book, looking much like a tiny inkwell. “A small sample of your blood is all that is needed,” spoke the figure once more. “Then it goes into your caring.”  His tone changed quickly to one of warning. “Remember, doing so is a responsibility that will have you marked.  Protect it and it will protect you.  Leave its care and may the gods have mercy on those around you.”
 
 Without hesitating, the half-elf unsheathed a small knife and placed its sharp blade on the palm of his left hand.  The flag-bearing halfling closed her eyes at the action and in plenty of time to avoid seeing the man draw the knife across his hand, forming a thin line of blood along its width. Quickly, he curls up his hand and squeezes a few drops of blood into the receptacle on the book's cover. It receives the blood and turns to a similar crimson color before melting into the cover itself.  The cover, which had previously been blank, now held a series of intricate markings colored gold and red...markings which matched those on the man's forearms.
 
 The man sheathed the knife as it became quickly apparent that the few drops had been all that was required.  With a small rag, he wiped his hand clean, revealing that no wound existed where he had drawn the blood. Carefully and without further ceremony, the figure hands the book to the man.
 
“It is yours now...”
 

[Dorganath]

...He looked over as motion and sound caught the fringe of his attention.  A portrait hanging on the wall shook and shifted on its own. He stopped what he was doing, listened and felt for a cause.  Krandor was not normally prone to tremors, but anything was possible.
 
 He waited...nothing.  He stepped outside.  Perhaps his neighbors had felt it too.  Again, nothing...no curious faces peeking out of open doors, no shouts of alarm. The only thing he heard was the normal collection of morning sounds of the seaside town.  He shrugged a bit, went back inside and resumed what he had been doing.
 
 A  while passed before it happened again.  A portrait rattled and shifted more than before, but somehow managed to stay on the wall.  He went over to right it when the sound of a book falling to the ground grabbed his attention. He turned abruptly and heard the crashing of a potted plant falling to the floor behind him. “Blast!” he uttered loudly, turning around to expect to see dirt and broken shards of pottery at his feet.  To his surprise, the fallen pot was across the room.
 
 He puzzled how this could be a moment, then sought outward to touch the Weave to see if any answers lay there. None came.  He was not surprised by this though still somewhat disappointed.  It had been weeks since he could properly feel and call on the Weave.  Ever since he returned from a place that was shifted away from Layonara, magic has not answered him.  He knew it was expected and that it would take time, but he had hoped to have become reattuned by now. He walked through his house and looked for a trespasser.  He saw none, and privately lamented his inability to bring Sight to his eyes. He frowned a bit then went about cleaning up.
 
 The house remained quiet for a time, save for the sounds of cleaning, though the quietness did not last. A couple of portraits managed to fall off their hooks on the wall, more books fell as did another plant.  He sighed somewhat exasperated, as cleaning up after...whatever was happening...was not in his plan for the day.  Morning turned into midday, then afternoon, and the random events continued through the day, with periods of calm between them.
 
It was during one of these periods where the relative quiet was shattered, not by the crash of a vase or the thump of a book but by an extremely loud bang.  It was as though someone slammed a door very, very hard, only there weren't any doors now closed that had been open.  He went to his front door and looked.  There was no one there, inside or out, and the door was undamaged.  Perplexed, he started to look around again, but he did not get very far.
 
 The room erupted in the blue-white light of lightning striking inside the house, with all the deafening impact of sounds that come with such a thing.  The powerful crackles seemed to tear at the fabric of reality all around him.  
 
 He peered into the lightning and found peace.
 
 Inside, there was perfection...

[Dorganath]

...Nothing about the slender, blonde halfling woman seemed out of the ordinary. For as long as he watched her, she was everything that he had heard about her and more. Her angelic face, her easy leadership despite the crisis with her son...every motion and word she made put all prior accounts of her to shame. Lee had called her a "starlet," and it was easy to see why. She was everything she was supposed to be and more, and nothing of the halfling that matched her exactly, down to the last hair, who poisoned the tree in the tribal grounds.
 
The day wore on and his disappointment grew. He had hoped, perhaps, that he would be able to sense something...something that would help to know others who might also be affected. Actively seeking toward Nelly might give him away, and alert whoever was behind her previous odd behavior. But those kinds of observations were no longer the limit of what he could see.
 
He looked at his friend and traveling companion of the last few days, knowing by her expression that she shared his concern, and perhaps disappointment...not wanting to give up but also finding a waning value to watching Nelly further.
 
With another look to Lee, he continued his discrete observance, becoming distracted by some interesting wares for a few minutes. As the day's light faded, he resigned himself to counting the attempt as a failure. He motioned to Lee and began moving toward an inn for the evening. Without warning, however, he stopped in his tracks.
 
Something close by was wrong...horribly wrong.
 
The man focused and looked for the source of this disturbance. His companion watched him with curiosity on her features, silently moving with him as he searched for what had caught his attention.
 
It did not take long. His eyes had fallen on Nelly, and in his sight he at last saw what he had come to find. Had anyone else been able to see what he saw, there likely would have been panic. All anyone else may have seen though, had they been looking, was a shift in the tribal elder's behavior. She looked disoriented, angry and confused, all things that seemed completely alien to the face of this woman. Lee looked on, biting down on the inside of her lip as she fought back her rather obvious concern.
 
In the half-elf man's eyes, however, things were different. Her aura was all wrong, and not entirely her own. In his sight, he could see the influence being placed upon Nelly by two beings within her that were not of Layonara....

[Dorganath]

...and beyond the druids stood their target, the vampiric “tree” that held the halfling they sought and the instrument of the curse that locked the tree where it stood.
 
 The druids prepared to lower the outer protections, further safeguards against this being they could not destroy.  Tension hung in the night air like a midnight fog, and the air bristled with magics old and new.  Beneath the tension there was a sort of unnatural calm.  For as this place was the site of a curse and the prison of an evil never considered by most, not even the usual beasts of the Whitehorn came close.  Even the rustling of leaves in the breeze seemed flat somehow, as though they too were hushed by the hum or magic and the sly whispers of the tree.
 
 In a moment, all eyes suddenly turned to Wind Spirit as a gem on her bracelet glowed brightly.  At the same moment, the half-elven man began to feel something was wrong, very wrong.  He perceived it as pain, though not from anything nearby.  Rather, thousands of miles away to the south he felt the desert and mountains cry out, assaulting his senses with an unfamiliar pain.  He forced himself through it and focused on where he was.
 
 As the small light from the bracelet faded, they all knew the time fore preparation and contemplation had ended.  It was time to act.  It was time to do what they had come to do...

[Dorganath]

“Again!” insisted the elven woman. “And by Lucinda's underwear drawer try to do it right this time!”  He was wearing out, and he knew it.  But somehow he found a renewed strength and managed to push through the exercise with at least some degree of competence.  He'd lost count of how many times he had done this particular exercise today, or how many others he'd done to the point of exhaustion.  He wasn't even completely sure if he was being admonished in Elvish or Common, though he assumed if it sounded remotely pleasing, it was probably the former.
 
 “Good...Again!” she demanded once more, and he complied.  She was unrelenting, but he was learning what he needed to learn. He knew there'd be no better instructor in magic, no one better to teach him how to harness and use his new powers and awarenesses.  And he reminded himself that when he left, he would at last be prepared to meet the threats he would eventually face.
 
 Once more, he completed the exercise and was rewarded with, “Better...” from his mentor.  “Take a few moments to gather yourself.  We start again in five minutes.” She walked off, and he nodded and sat to relax a bit.  He reflected back on his time here and what he had done and learned.  The days were long, the nights far too short, and her lessons tended to be a series of trials that tested him magically, mentally and physically.  One day blurred into the next, and he had given up trying to count them weeks ago.  Fatigue was a steady condition.
 
 Yet, he was learning, and more than he had suspected.  By virtue of his word and his bond to the Tome, he was dedicated to the course in front of him, and each day brought him closer to being able to fulfill his role.
 
 A tingle at the edge of his senses alerted him to a building magic behind him.  In a heartbeat, he knew there was something incoming.  Reflexively he threw up protections and leaped up to turn and face whatever it was.  No sooner than he did, a bolt of magic energy scorched the ground where he had been sitting.  He looked to the source of the energy to see the smirking face of his mentor.
 
“Not bad.  Perhaps next time I'll actually try to hit you,” she said, and he responded with a nod and a slight smile.  Her words carried two meanings, and he knew that beneath the apparent mirth was a very real message: Always be ready.  He gathered himself and nodded once more.
 
 “Again!...”

[Dorganath]

...Who ever it was that the boy was sitting on reached up from their flattened position and ruffled the young man's hair fondly. He watched the child's face hoping for a clue in his reaction. The boy's expression turned impish and he whispered something. The mysterious person sat straight up. The boy giggled again and hopped off, the two actions revealing more to the man's eyes.

The figure was dressed in a dark brown cloak, and cowled. No hint of hair or face peeked out but, he saw the green of her shirt, and if it was the shirt he recalled, there'd be an embroidered tree in light tan tones. The woman got up, leaving everything sitting next to the boy and his dog, the former having just spotted the man and gave an impish grin to him as well. The woman let her hood fall back as she took a few steps towards a run, and froze in her tracks as soon as her eyes lighted on him. She paused there her hand going to the clasp of her cloak, her expression at first stunned. It had been months. At least a full season had passed since he left, but in all honesty, he had lost count of the days while he was away training and learning his new abilities. So much could have happened in that time, did she even feel the same? A part of him realized, if she was echoing the same thing he was feeling, likely... not much had changed between them. A smile came to his expression unbidden, and for what ever reason that seemed to be exactly what she needed to see.

She made a soft choking noise and ran the distance between them. At about the same time, he resumed his approach, his urge was to quicken the pace, but he slowed and stopped, lest they collide with dangerous force. She leaped up and wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, clinging tightly. He stumbled slightly with her momentum but caught himself quickly and used the corner of the house to brace himself. In the same moment he steadied himself, he wrapped his arms tightly around her, pressing his face into the space between her head and shoulder. Though she had her face buried in his neck he knew she was crying from the soft sounds next to his ear. He hoped greatly that they were happy tears. He held tightly to her, just being in the moment, his own joy at seeing her bubbling up within him.

He wasn't sure when the boy appeared at his side, but the sharp poke into his side alerted him to the boy's presence. It wasn't mean, but clearly meant to get his attention.

“She's hardly slept in the last two months, and.... She was afraid you'd changed your mind,” the boy whispered to him. “She'll never admit it, because she doesn't want you to worry. But I think it's better you know.” The woman stiffened in his arms immediately after the boy's assertion, which was pretty much all the confirmation he needed. She resumed her cling to him with renewed need to have him close, and he obliged that need. The boy hummed happily as he headed off around the corner. A door opened, the dog's feet clicked onto the wood floor and then the door shut. He laid his chin down on the woman's shoulder and rested his head against hers. How long they stayed like that, neither of them knew or cared. Not a word was shared for the longest time. Krandor faded away from their perception, the sounds of sea and surf diminished, the daily sounds of people and animals vanished, and that mattered was the moment.

When at last the silence was broken, it was his voice in a light whisper only loud enough to carry the short distance to her ear.

“I missed you...”

[Dorganath]

A strong, early spring storm slammed the small sea-side village.  Rain fell in sheets and mixed with sea spray driven by fierce winds. The many torches set about town had long since blown out, and the town was illuminated only by what light leaked out of storm shutters and the frequent bursts of lightning.  Thunder crashed, the winds howled and the surf crashed. The combination made a noise so loud, so chaotic that anyone left out in the elements could scarcely hear their own thoughts.  However tonight, no one dared to roam outside...
 
...except for one.
 
A lone, hooded man, clad in a long, dark coat walked through the stormy night. His head was down against the elements, and he walked slowly and with purpose. He made his way through town with familiarity to a small outcropping of rock and earth. Wave after wave slammed against the rock, covering it and the figure atop it with a salty spray. The man lifted his head to face the storm, and the wind blew back his hood. Lightning flashed and lit his face briefly, his features set into a firm resolve.
 
The rain and sea mist stung his eyes, and the wind and waves threatened to knock him off his perch, but he stood fast against the storm.  He stood there for several minutes, nearly motionless except for his eyes, that scanned the surf for as far as he could see.
 
The man opened his coat and reached into a pocket on the inside and removed a long, thin object.  Lightning flashed and was immediately answered by thunder, the light from the flash showing the object in his hand to be a single, blue rose.  His coat flapped out behind him, held on only at his shoulders. The flower protested the wind until he surrounded it with the Weave's protection. Another brief spell and the flower glowed a pale blue.  He held the flower at his side and stared at the surf again.
 
At last, he took a deep breath and held it a moment.  He had intended to shout, but reconsidered. His grip on the rose loosened slightly but stayed securely in his hand.  The next moment slowed for him.  The rain struck his face one drop at a time, the wind slid easily past him, and the waves undulated gently.  Lightning flashed a slow glow, exposing a lingering sorrow at the edges of his eyes that melted into an expression of release.  He opened his mouth to speak and it came out as a whisper, heard only by the next drops of rain to strike his face.
 
“Oilmaamacc, Amael...”  With his words, he extended his arm and let loose of the rose.  When the flower touched the waves, time for him resumed its normal flow.  Without watching further, he turned around and set off toward his home. He reached his door, opened it, cutting the darkness of night with the light from within for the brief turn of seconds it took him to pass inside.  A moment later, the door was latched and secured against the unbroken storm outside.

[Dorganath]

...“PREPARE!” the man called out as protective wards began to fall under the touch of the Regent's shield. One by one, the lines of force keeping the protections in place flowed into the shield and dissipated. Beyond these protections, it waited.  It had been waiting and watching, and soon it would be set free. This was it, the being they came to find, the being from Outside, the being called the Source. Within moments, nothing would stand between them and this being, and it would not be happy.  He was prepared, and he hoped the others would be as well.
 
 “Wit' wha'?” asked one of the dwarves.
 
 “Whatever you've got.”
 
 The last of the wards gave way with a snap, and the Source was Free.  There didn't seem much to the being; it looked as if it were made of darkness.  Yet it was real and physical enough.  In a moment, the battle was joined by the group of sturdy dwarves, quick halflings, the White Wolf and the Walker.
 
The Source lashed out in fury and anger, and all played their parts.  By blades and bare hands, blessings, arrows, magic and whatever else could be brought to bear, the Source was struck. By these things it was harmed, and by their tenacity, it was struck down.
 
 But the Source was not of this world, and it would not be done so quickly.  That which made it coalesced once more and before anyone could properly tend to the wounded.  The battle was joined once more, but the results were not as hoped.  One fell, then another, and a third.  All fought with all the might and strength within them...all but one.
 
Outwardly, he appeared to do nothing.  He seemed to stand idle while the Source took the lives of his comrades.  In truth, however, he was seeking, and in his seeking he found what he needed.  To his unique senses, he saw it...the thin tether that still connected the being to its place of origin, a reality of lower frequency. He knew he could sever this and the Source would be gone, but they needed it, or a piece of it at least.  In a moment, he formulated a plan, and a moment later he brought it to be.
 
“Hey!” he shouted at the Source in a symbolic action to get its attention. It was not at all necessary for him to do so, however, since he had already gotten the notice of the Source.  He had reached out to the being's very essence, an essence that was alien and disruptive to this world.  He took some of this essence and held it.  He forced it to fit where it could not, and in so doing, he held it...he hurt it.
 
 The Source halted its attack and turned toward him.  “It's held!” he called out to the others to let them know, and then “HOLD!” so they would halt their attacks as well.  He  knew that he was taking a risk, that soon the will of the Source would fight his own and that he would likely get only one chance at this.  As if to confirm this thought, the Source turned what passed for eyes upon him, and in those eyes burned its hatred...hatred that was focused upon him alone.
 
 “I think I can...,” he spoke to the others in slightly strained tones.  “...get rid of it and keep a piece here until we have a place to put it...”
 
“What help do you need?” asked the halfling bardess.
 
 “A container would be nice,” he replied.
 
“Think I have a couple gems...and an empty flask,” she offered.
 
“Gem will work...a good one...got a diamond?” came his reply.  The Source surged, battling against him.  It shrieked in anger and hate, and he squeezed back to remind it, for now, who was in control.  One of the dwarves produced a gem, a diamond of fine quality and respectable size.  He tossed it on the ground near the Source.
 
 The Source shrieked again and lashed out against the hold upon him.  In an unseen struggle, the man prevailed, but barely.  The time had to be now.
 
 Upon the Source he imposed a resonance that it could not endure. It shrieked in pain and hatred, but the man held and pushed harder.   The resonance tore at the Source, breaking the bonds that held it to its origin and to itself.  He staggered and fell to his knees under the strain, but gave one final and decisive effort.   The Source snapped and sunk within itself, and a part of it trailed into the gem under the man's efforts. A moment later, the Source was gone...

[Dorganath]

...The door to his home closed behind him as he walked toward the shore.  The distance was not far, but his mind was on the destination. He cradled the hot mug of tea in his hands as he settled down on the small outcropping of rock.  The day's light waned, and in the long shadows of the setting sun, his face showed signs of fatigue and burdens. Rest had not come easily to him, though simply for lack of time for the activity.
 
“How many days has it been?” he wonders silently as he idly turns the mug in his hands. “Four days? Five? More?” came the silent response that did not really answer the question.  In truth, he had lost count.  His pursuit had been nearly constant since she traded herself for the freedom of the last child. The choice was hers to make, but yet she seemed so eager, or perhaps resigned.  He could not fault the logic of her decision, yet his stomach churned at the thought of her in the custody of that monster and his brothers, each worse than the previous, by what has been seen. For days he had followed as close as he dared, which was not close at all, and now their trail is lost to him, for at least a few days.
 
 He takes a sip of his tea as he looked out into the water without ever actually focusing on anything.  The dark liquid in the cup was still quite hot, but it had become reflex to protect against such with his magic.  As such, he scarcely felt the heat of it, though the warmth was somehow comforting and familiar to him.  A second sip soon followed, and he let the flavor linger on his tongue a bit before letting it wash down his throat. His mind replayed the last couple of days and lingered on the more vivid details.  And while he tried to avoid it, his mind filled in the blanks with frightful images. He took another sip of his tea to try and wash them away, and to some extent he was successful.
 
His mind turned to the woodsman he had found at the abandoned campsite. The innocent man had been killed swiftly by a dagger to the back of his neck. It was an expertly placed wound and efficient in purpose.  The woodsman did not suffer, at least, or so he surmised...a small consolation at best.  The unsuspecting man had been the latest casualty in this elaborate game they played with the half-orc priest, though this one did not need to remain a casualty.    The Aeridinites saw to his return to life, and soon enough he would return to his family.  
 
 A gust of wind blew back the man's hood, but he scarcely noticed as images of his student...his friend...passed before his unfocused eyes. Through the odd understanding he had with his familiar, he had a picture of her and what she had endured in her captivity. A part of him could not help but to be awed and impressed.  Such strength she had, such will. He reflected on her actions, wondering what he might have done himself, and came to realize that they were not so different in many ways.  She bore her burdens much as he did, silently and with resolve. He still thought her decision foolish, but it had worked at least for the short term goal, and he could not deny the logic of it all.
 
 For a moment, his eyes focused on the sea, and in that focus a new set of images passed through his mind.  He saw them approaching the gulf atop their lumbering mount, a creature of elemental origin, or perhaps a construct of some sort.  It moved swiftly for its size. The usual difficulties of terrain did not seem to impede this creature as it moved through mountains, fields and forests with equal ease. It was not the usual sort one would expect, but he knew it possible. In his mind, he ran through the multitude of possibilities, likely more than most people would consider. By his observation, it was quite effective; few would be able to keep pace, and yet, they dismissed this mount for a small boat in the gulf.  He puzzled this decision until he observed the rest.  The boat was moved along by another creature of elemental origin that moved swiftly out to sea, carrying them beyond his sight in short order. He considered the forethought that went into whatever plans this half-orc had and could not help to feel a moment's admiration, though the moment was brief and washed fully away by the black-hearted cruelty of this foe.
 
He took a gulp of his tea as he wondered where they might land again. Could they move directly to a place close to their encampment, or would the corals impede their progress, even with such a capable method of propulsion.  That left the Gulf of Co'rys, if he was right about their destination.
 
“I should check that,” he said to himself.
 
 “Check what?” came a familiar female voice from behind him.  He startled slightly, having not heard her approach.  The slight and copper-haired woman knelt down behind him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders and rested her head against his.
 
 “The camp,” he said simply. “To be sure.”  She nodded in response, something he felt more than saw. The two of them remained mostly still in that posture for moments uncounted.
 
 “Do you wish your meal out here?” she asked after a time.
 
He shook his head slightly. “No, I will be in shortly,” he answerd quietly.  She nodded again and stood gracefully, letting her arms drag away as she stood.  A few moments later he heard the door latch behind him and his thoughts turned inward once more.  He found no focus or answers, however, as his thoughts drifted aimlessly like a leaf caught in the swirls of current in a stream. There came a sudden fluttering behind him and to his left, and a moment later a bat landed on his shoulder.  He startled slightly, but relaxed in his recognition of the animal.  She was anxious and chittered at the man almost insistently.  He looked over at the bat and smiled wanly.
 
 “I wish I understood you sometimes, you know?” he said in a slightly mirthful tone.  His response was more chittering and a brief fluttering of the bat's wings. “Alright...I'll come inside,” he said.  He gathered his legs beneath him and rose to stand fully.  The last bits of the sun sunk below the horizon, leaving only its diffuse glow to light the remains of the day.
 
 The bat squeaked and chittered again insistently. “Alright! I'm going!” he said, sounding annoyed at first, but a grin appeared on his lips as he turned toward his door and began to walk. Reaching the door, he turned the latch and pressed forward. A bright sliver of light spilled out onto the darkening ground, casting shadows that betrayed his passage into the house. In another moment, the door swung shut and latched with a quiet click...

[Dorganath]

...The house was suddenly still and quiet.  The last of the children had been wrangled away from the older “boys” and was finally settling down for the night.  The relative calm had been the exception rather than the rule lately, but he did not generally mind. Tonight, however, he was grateful for the calm.  In the morning, they would leave again, leaving the children in the care of the two oldest, those who seemed but children themselves not so long ago. Tonight, he would spend, at least in part, reflecting and preparing.  He sat down on a couch and stared into the fire, letting the flickering flames illuminate his memories.

  An infant's cry split the quiet, followed shortly by the insistent squeak of a bat.  “Yes, of course I hear her,” he said, making some great assumption about the bat's meaning.  He stood without hesitation and moved into the next room.  The infant girl was on her cot, and her small elven face was scrunched up in the throes of her cries. He scooped her up and cradled her in his arms.  After some initial rocking to try and soothe her, he spoke to her quietly in elvish.

  “What is it, little one?” he asked. “Are you hungry or in need of a change?” He tested her wrappings and quickly discovered the answer. “Oh yes, you're in need of some tending!” he said to her in that voice that it seems everyone uses to distract or amuse a young child.  “Perhaps a bit of a bath while I'm at it,” he adds.  With familiarity, he moved about the room to gather clean and dry wrappings and fresh clothes.  Calling the Al'Noth to his free hand, he warmed a small basin of water to just the right temperature.  Whether from the motion, the sound of his voice or the sensation of magic nearby, the infant began to calm.  Wasting no time, he quickly stripped the soiled clothes from the child and immersed her in the basin.  Moving with practice and care, he quickly bathed and dried her, then dressed her in fresh clothing, speaking to her in elvish the whole time.

  “There now...all better?” he asked of her as he looked at her small face.  Her bright eyes looked back at him with the makings of a toothless grin forming on her face.  He studied her features for several moments. “So like her mother,” he thought to himself, but the thought seemed to drain his own face of cheer for the time. He walked to the desk on one side of the room and looked down at a singular sheet of parchment.  He stared at the parchment for several moments and scanned the words it contained that were written in a fine and feminine hand.

  “She'll be home to you soon,” he said to the baby as his eyes returned to her. Whether or not she understood, he did not know.  Perhaps it only made him feel better to say it.  His gaze returned to the page on the desk, and before even realizing it, he found himself removing the weight that held the page down. A moment later, the page was in his hand, and in another moment, he was sitting on the edge of the bed.

  He looked once more at the child, who was still watching him with the sort of rapt fascination that babies seem to find in all things.  He took an unsteady breath, turned his eyes to the parchment and began to read:

  “Ane sa wilyviranam, el anira wila eo iram femanir...”

[Dorganath]

...He sat with his companion of several years in the middle of a blanket on the beach, the remains of a generous lunch for eight still arranged around them.  She sat between his legs facing away, resting her back against his chest.  His arms were wrapped easily around her waist, crossing over her stomach, and his chin rested on her right shoulder.
 
“It's a nice sight, isn't it?” he asked her quietly.
 
 “It is,” she answered softly with a soft smile, then settled back into him, relaxing against his support.  Their mutual gaze continued to watch a half dozen figures just down the beach.  The two oldest boys, their sons, played at the edge of the gentle surf, the calm between tides, with two much younger children, a boy and a girl. Their activities alternated between dodging the incoming waves with bubbles of laughter and investigating the many wonders both revealed and obscured by the sands. A bit further down the beach was a rocky tide pool with even more to see, and one they would likely go investigate shortly, as it had become a favorite of the children.
 
Another child, the youngest boy sat on the beach, largely still in contrast to his two more lively siblings. Events of the last few months had been most difficult for him. “He's getting better,” thought the man to himself, and in truth he was, though any who didn't know the young boy, who didn't spend time with him would probably not be able to tell the difference.
 
 The young boy did not sit alone, however. Next to him and also watching the four playing along the beach sat a dark-haired elven woman.  In her hold but obscured from the man's sight was the woman's baby girl. She seemed to speak and sign to both children in her vicinity, though the words and most of the signs were lost to the man as he watched.  In truth, his eyes were not really on them at all.
 
 His thoughts strayed through his memories. The elven woman was his student who had become a, perhaps unlikely, friend under rather unusual circumstances. The corners of his mouth twitched slightly into a brief smile of amusement, as such unusual happenings seem to be far more common than one would think.  He mused about this briefly as his memories spun forward rapidly until they came to a time several weeks ago.  How many it had been he did not know, nor did he find it terribly important.  
 
[INDENT]She removed her leather pack and offered it to him carefully. Her hands shook as she held out the pack, and her eyes spoke of the fear she fought to contain and control. As he took the pack from her with a small, reassuring smile, he spoke to her softly“Shall I try to track you?” he asked quietly so that his voice would not carry far.

“You still have my lock of hair,” she said. “I trust you.” He nodded slightly, and she turned, straightened her traveling cloak and approached the enormous half-orc.
[/INDENT] His mind leaped forward again, his eyes narrowed and his expression took on a rather unhappy look.  The next time he had seen his student directly was something over a week after that, but through the eyes of his familiar, he had seen far more. His student's familiar had remained with him as well, and while he could not communicate as well as with his own, he had begun to read the moods of the creature.
 [INDENT]He sent the drake out to keep pace with the group and gathered himself up to resume his careful and distant pursuit. As soon as he set out though, the bat made her opinion known.  He was going the wrong way. The path took them back, away from the direction they should be going.  He protested some, but soon enough relented to the animal's insistence.  

The site was as any camp site may seem, with the remains of a fire, signs of use and the like.  His eyes did not take long to find the other two more prominent features of this camp: A matted area of grass that spoke of a struggle of some sort and the body of a dead woodsman a few meters away. The latter was killed cleanly, and the former...between the bat's reactions and his own supposition, he knew something very bad had happened there.
[/INDENT] He shut his eyes tightly and turned his head away slightly.  He tightened his hold slightly around the woman in his arms for moment or two before the sounds of renewed laughter had caught his attention once more.  The four playing in the surf had been caught unaware by a wave that was more forceful than anticipated.  It had climbed quite far up their section of beach and had reached the knees of the younger girl. He smiled slightly at the scene, before his thoughts stole his smile away once more.  His eyes had returned to the elven woman and what was missing from her.
 
 Most might not have given it a second thought, but the presence of her faithful familiar had been rather conspicuous to any who really knew her.  Knowing first-hand the bond that was shared between those of wizardly and sorcerous leanings, he still found it hard to imagine the  terrible cost of losing that connection.  And yet, his student bore that burden now.  Unlike most of her injuries suffered during her captivity, this one would not soon heal.
 
 The wind picked up slightly and his mind wandered. The sound of the rushing air remained constant, but the scene in his mind was suddenly vastly different.  The air was cold and the landscape was rocky and harsh.
 [INDENT]Sights, sounds and smells of orcs, fires and the beginnings of rituals hung in the air, acrid to all senses. She was close.  He knew this from the change in the bat's behavior. This lifted his spirits some, but only for a moment.  As he contemplated what last challenges lie ahead of them, what this next confrontation with this cunning foe would be like, the bat took to the air without warning and flew off before he could hope to stop her.

“Go...after her...but be careful” he called to his own familiar, though his creature had already started to respond before his words were fully spoken.
[/INDENT] That was the last anyone had seen of the creature.  His own had later reported her demise to him, but it was days before his student fully realized what had happened, perhaps longer.
 
 His eyes focused again on her as motion catches his eye.  The elf woman reached up a hand to tuck a few stray bits of hair behind her ear with a gloved hand. The glove was neither an affectation nor for warmth he knew. His mind flashed briefly to the reason for the gloves, to the state her hands were in when they found her, and the way they were finally healed through magic he did not fully understand.  “They will work well,” he thought to himself, though he wondered still if she trusted them fully.  It was weeks, possibly longer, before she even attempted magic with them, even though she had kept them limber and flexible through signing and other exercises.
 
 A wan but sympathetic smile appeared briefly on his lips as his memory floated back decades to a couple of similar situations, times when magic had hurt from a previous exertion and even the idea of touching the Al'Noth seemed painful. From there, his mind passed to a time that seemed both recent and distant...a time when his magic remained attuned elsewhere and would not respond to his calls however he might try.
 
 “How things have changed since then,” he thought to himself as a slight smile formed on his lips.  He took one more look around the scene before him, settled against the woman in his arms and closed his eyes, letting the sounds of winds, surf and children surround him...

[Dorganath]

...and clutching the comforting hand of his companion, he took one resolute step toward the edge and faced across the chasm toward the mysterious passage and its gruesome guardian.

 He knew he held the hand of his beloved.  He knew his student stood nearby, ready to aid at a moment's notice.  Some part of him registered a manifestation of magic where they stood...warnings to discourage or distract. He knew these things, but his focus was elsewhere, and as he projected himself forth, in mind but not body, the massive wall of bones across the chasm took notice and took a step toward him. It did not belong here.  He could tell this quite easily, and the fact registered mere moment before he was drawn to its vacant eyes.
 
Time ticked forward.
 
 To the women with him, he appeared to step past the ledge, though his companion knew otherwise, as his hand was still firmly held in hers.  To him, he felt pulled toward these vacant eyes.  He turned his attention to the opening of the corridor, but his eyes were snapped back to those of the guardian.  Focusing his will, he tried again, and once more, he was pulled back, but the guardian seemed to lose interest and simply released him.
 
 To those with him, he seemed to return from the chasm, though in truth he never moved.
 
Time ticked forward.
 
He started again, his attentions focusing on the corridor, it's nature, its energies and perhaps its destination.  What he saw confirmed at least some of what he suspected.  The corridor led somewhere else...somewhere beyond this reality, but it was unlike any such portal he had ever encountered or even understood. He thought about getting closer, and his thoughts briefly turned back to the guardian and how he'd have to get past it to get a closer look.
 
Time ticked forward.
 
To those with him, he once more “stepped” over the edge of the chasm, though he remained firmly on the ground held by his companion, his student by his side.  To those with him, there is a glimpse of a pair of eyes coming from the corridor and the image of him being drawn to them.  
 
“What are you?” he said in his thoughts toward the eyes. Suddenly, everything changed.  His mind was suddenly awash in a river of emotions, its rapid flow pulling him along like a leaf.
 
 Time ticked forward.
 
To those with him, there was a horrible sound, dissonant and loud beyond belief.  The dark-haired elf to his left screamed and began to bleed from her ears, though his copper-haired companion seemed to endure. To those with him, he grabbed his head and pulled at his hair.
 
“WHAT...ARE...YOU???” he shouted in his mind at the eyes as they drifted toward him.  There was something else now, but he could not grasp it. The eyes drifted toward him.
 
 Time ticked forward.
 
 To those with him, the eyes pierced him quickly through his own, and then there was a pure and absolute darkness. His companion could feel him shake uncontrollably. She dropped to her knees, embraced him, and spoke to him of home.
 
But he could not hear her words.  His mind exploded, and there was only pure and absolute blackness and a fear he had never felt before...

[Dorganath]

...something that only a few short months prior seemed unlikely, perhaps even impossible.  

   Under the starlight, they knelt before each other, gathered for a single purpose for only them and the Two they held above all others. Their voices were quiet and private despite being quite alone in this expanse of sand and parched earth. When the stars were at their highest, his left hand joined with her right, and in his other hand, he bore a looped length of freshly-cut ivy, an oddity in such a setting as it is not native to such a climate. He spoke to her quietly with only catches of voice lofting on a fickle breeze.
[INDENT]“... Under the watchful eyes of our goddesses...”
[/INDENT]His right hand wrapped the vine slowly around their hands and onto her arm.  His emotive expression remained steady throughout, as though the greatest confidence accompanied them.
[INDENT]“...of ease and trial, of peace and chaos that the world sends after us...”
[/INDENT]Near her elbow, the wrap of the vine starts to proceed back down toward their hands, and though it was no small feat of coordination to manage the symbolic gesture, his eyes never left hers.
[INDENT]“... strength when you have need, to find joy in who you are...”
[/INDENT]As his words began to conclude, he makes one final wrap and raises his voice slightly.
[INDENT]“...for Their ears and yours alone.”[/INDENT]