Jo sits in center singing a silly song while strumming his guitar.
Never lick a toad!
There are some things you should never do.
Like eat something you find on your shoe!
Don't take a nap in the middle of the road,
and don't ever lick a toad!
Don't lick a toad, don't lick it!
You'd be better off to just kick it!
Better yet just leave it alone...It wasn't bothering you.
Don't lick a toad! Don't lick it!
JUST SAY NO TO TOADS!
Sir Daniel, Aylana.
I met a woman of some mystery last night who claimed to know you, Mister Reid, Ty, and Charlie all. She wields two curved exotic blades and favors dark purple colors and black. Her eyes disturbingly remind me of a dark elf in that they are large and strikingly violet hued, but she seems to be a human woman of some fifty years. Niamh joined us but refused to help me identify this woman so I appeal to yourself. Rofirein's insight into her character revealed not a thing, but my own judgement is one of a mixed soul, light and dark. She took great delight in both teasing me and attempting to scare me with her manner, but then was most helpful in repairing Niamh's worn boots. If you can identify her please send a return letter as soon as you able. One other bit of information , she referred to herself as a Striker, someone who leaps into the fray.
My other duties recently include helping resolve some conflict stirred up by our ancient enemy in Brenuth. It seems a Brother Strife was in collusion with some mercenary deep dwarves and was encouraging attacks against the Grannocian giants of the region. The small group of adventurers and myself were able to convince both groups we sought the truth and investigate. We uncovered the plot in Ulgrids itself and will be departing for Krashin to bring more of these instigators of chaos to justice.
Yours in the Gold,
Jo.
Sir Daniel, Aylana
I finally discovered who the mystery lady was, one Tyra Dragonheart. You were right, Sir, she does have a reputation for being a little odd.
I passed Charlie while traveling through Center. He told me he was traveling to Auderia with Katelyn to attend some manner of carnival there. If the rumors I'm hearing are true, this carnival's highlight the practice of putting a prisoner to death! I'm hoping to run into Charlie soon, but I'm not counting on it. I'd like to hear more of how it all worked out. I've been on a leave of absence from the Siphe Garra due to a quiet time on the front. I came back to Mistone for some rest and found myself involved on some strangeness. I'm sure you've heard some reports, but fire pits have grown to monsters and attacked folk, winds and water from creeks and ponds are doing the same. Fern, myself, and few others have travelled to the Grannocian Temple near to Vehl to ask for help in understanding what is occuring. Your old friend, Andrew, is leading us. I can't say I'm entirely comfortable being led by a Ilsarian, but I know you think fondly of him and I must say, he's a competent if somewhat quirky leader. I'll write again as soon as I am able.
Dutifully yours,
Jo.
Sir Daniel, Aylana
I've been busy tracking down information on liches, seeking help from the Shining Hand in Llast. I've not had much luck. The Toranites tolerate the Lord Protector, not much more and being a soldier with the Garra Siphe hasn't helped either. I did manage to find out a few basic facts about Liches and how they survive with their souls in a phylactory which I hope to use. Do not worry, the Gold is still with me strongly.
Dutifully
Jo.
Journal entry
Water - Moselle - Lagoon
Air - Phoon - Mistral
Earth - Maia - Jahun
Fire - ? - ?
Our party has a pair of rings, but they seem to contain the souls of these beings and something else, a corruption. We are still not certain how to release them safely. I suspect , if called upon, the Great Dragon would enable me to destroy them with a holy blow, but I hope not to have to resort to such a drastic measures.
//a note - Brothers of Strife
Brother Blizzard is making snow in Auderia.
Last seed is being broken. Zalagor Cinder comes to unleash havoc.
Jo checked his appearance in the shine of his tower shield for the third time, running a hand through his wavy black hair in nervousness. Sighing he swung the shield to his back and stepped round the corner of the Toranite Temple in Llast. Ahead, a man, Mari's father worked on the corner of a wagon. A much younger man was helping lift a multi spoked wooden wheel onto a well greased axle. "Steady, a bit to the left, now in." The older man said as the wheel slid into place, he drove a round peg into a hole clearly meant for such a purpose at the end of the axle - locking the wheel in place.
Jo advanced, "Morning sir!" The older man glanced up and a flash of sunlight nearly blinded him off of Jo's shoulder armor. The older man grimaced, and held up a grease smeared hand to shade his eyes. Maybe the extra shine wasn't a good idea after all. Jo thought. No help for it. 'Attack through it' the voice of one of his instructors from Vehl said in his mind. He squared his shoulders under the heavy armor. "I'm sorry to disturb you sir, but I have some business to discuss. An order and something a bit more personal." Jo leveled a gaze at the older man's assistant.
Mari's father, Jo mentally kicked himself for not getting the man's name, looked at the assistant and gave him a small nod, "Off you go, Anton. We'll be fine here. Why don't you go check in with that girl you're so sweet on?" Turning to Jo, he managed to look unimpressed and curious at the same time.
Jo drew forth plans for a wagon handing them over, "I'm in need of a special wagon, for hauling timber, stone, and the like. It'll need special wheels, ones that can handle the strain of rubble, tree roots, rough ground. Think you can help me, sir? I'm willing to pay whatever it takes, although, I might not have the full price right away." He finished, his voice shaking slightly.
"Alright, I'm a wheelwright lad, not a magician, but I think," a glance at the specifications, "I can make something that will work. What's your other business, Jo Poetr ?" The man missed little, Jo thought. Good thing I'm nothing if not honest.
Jo stood up as straight as his six foot two inch frame allowed, eyes straight and focused, chest out, "I want to ask you sir." he paused as the man's name came to him, "Owen MacMurray, I formally request your permission to court your daughter, sir." He finished in a long rush of words, formal as they were. By the Dragon, that was harder than fighting the yard master at Vehl Temple.
A frown, consternation lines formed on Owen's forehead, he started to say something, then stopped, then looked away a few moments. Jo felt sweat building all over his body, another minute and his padding would be soaked through. Finally, Owen looked back at him, "She's my little girl, Mari. I'll always see her as that, you follow?" Owen said quietly finally seeming to take in Jo's trappings, the heavy golden armor, shield, blade, stirrups, the golden dragon amulet on his chest." Owen settled on Jo's face and the lines on his forehead relaxed. "I'll tell you what, let me talk to Mari bout it first and give you an answer then?" The older man offered not unkindly.
A nod from Jo, "Alright sir, that's fair. Although, I should tell you I came to you first, she might feel um, well awkward with your talk." Jo relaxed slightly and turned to go. "Thank you for your time, sir. " A pause, "Just so you know, I've always thought of Mari as my squad leader until fairly recently. I have a lot of respect for her as a leader and a soldier. Great Dragon watch over you and yours." Jo marched off.
Jo left word with the Center innkeep that he would be staying in Vale and gathered his things. Stepping outside he whistled sharply for his warhorse and rode for the portal.
(a day later)
Jo took stock, an entire village of rubble, some of it burning, a few handtools, not much food. Luckily, Mister Reid had said the Angels would be bringing supplies. His camp consisted of a bedroll next to the Katian stone. He sighed and went to work chopping at a still smoldering pile of logs and rubble. Vale was home now, better make the best of it.
Days pass, Jo's food stores grow slimmer and he is now down to one shovel and a pick. Small progress has been made in clearing some of the rubble, but perhaps it is only noticable to him. A crude lean to of rubble stones and fallen logs is now his shelter from the elements. Fallen sticks and trunks are stacked in a pile as a resource against the cold for his small fire, right outside the shelter.
He can probably hear the bard coming a half-mile away. The song's tempo is contemplative, and the tenor, while not at the bard's younger heights, balances with a soothing depth of baritone on the low end. The song carries over the stone wall along with footsteps, although no bard can be seen.
"Once round the sun I licked your fingers
Snow’s come and snow has gone again
Salt and warm and sticky lingers
Less of now and more of then
Snow’s come and snow has gone again
Words exchanged with interest due
Less of now, and more of then
I see more, and less, of you
Words exchanged with interest due
Rate’s not what it was last spring
I see more and less of you
Low risk does not ease the sting
Before the snow was molten skin
Once round the sun I licked your fingers
Words dry as winter leaves but…
Salt and warm and sticky lingers"
"Good morning Jo!" There is a thump and a sack, stuffed to capacity and with several tears where trowels and small picks have ripped through, appears next to the protector albeit sans hands or a body that carried it. From about two feet to Jo's right; "How goes the restoration?"
Jo gives Andrew and appreciative smile at the resupply, then gestures about them. "It goes well, if very slowly Mister Reid. Thank you for the tools. I am not nearly as strong as Sir Daniel nor am I much use alone beyond being a presence of order here." Jo points out specifically the work he has accomplished - the lean to, fire, and the two rubble piles he has sorted out. "This is a task of years for one person, Sir. Months for a small team, even weeks with a good sized group." Jo takes out some rations from his own pack and gnaws on them hungrily, his eyes contemplative, but still determined.
"I can stay a bit and lend my back. I can even sing us some extra strength and speed. But, I will have to move on in a week or so, I'm called to Taur'en. I haven't heard from the others, but I can only presume they'll be coming along. Oh - here - pie!" With a smile and a florish he pulls from his own pack a large blackberry pie, carefully wrapped and sugary enough to stay preserved. It joins a small pile of preserved meats, dried fruit, hard cheeses, and flours. "When I go I'll happily send bird messages to whomever you wish. Give me names, I'll see they are summoned to help at Vale. I'll make sure they bring more supplies as well." He scans the sky. "I think we should build a real shelter here, even just a small wooden one to keep the rain out - there's enough lumber left. What do you think?"
Jo latches onto the food with hungry hands. He sniffs and grins wide. "I never thought I would say this to an Ilsarian, but I love you, sir." He tucks the food carefully into his pack. "Fern is about here somewhere, I think. She's communing with the trees or something. She's got a heart of gold , but is a little off about stuff like that, if you follow my meaning sir. "Jo considers something for a moment, "I could build a more suitable shelter if I had nails and few other tools like a hammer, saws, you know, a real carpenters kit. There's enough scorched finished wood, fallen timbers and stones to rebuild a cabin of sorts. I don't really know if that is what Katia or our group would want, but since you seem to be in charge, I'll do it. Might not be square or level though, I'm only so so with wood working and not much with stone. I could use Oly's strong back for removals, maybe the dwarves for stonework if they're willing. I can't speak for any of them, of course, just my thoughts." Jo shrugs a little.
"There's one person you could send a letter to, Mari MacMurray. She's either in Llast or Center, I can't say where exactly, but if you could let her know I'm here and ask her to pick up a wagon from her father I ordered. That would be a big help, Mister Reid. Oh, I might owe some true on that wagon, I'm good for it, just haven't had the time to actually get payment to her father yet." Jo's expression shifts to some sort of confusion and a bit of longing as he speaks the last.
A half-smile. The bard's eyes are warm but he does not tease. "Oly, Zig, Griff; Quenton, as well; and Mari MacMurray of Llast. I can send ahead the Trues for the wagon, and you can owe me. I'm sure, following Rofirien, you're good for it." A brisk rubbing of his long-fingered hands. "Are you fed? We can get started. Let's find Fern, shall we?"
"My word is my bond." Said almost as an oath. "You know that well from what Sir Daniel has told me of your long friendship, sir. Thank you." With a nod at the mention of Fern and starting, Jo points south, the last direction he saw the diminuitive gnome travel last.
Bright brown eyes peer out of the forest undergrowth, and then a small gnome, carrying a stick twice as big as she is, pops out from behind a bush. "Were you looking for me? I've got a nice sack of bat poo!"
Jo groans and gives a small sniff, "Should of smelled that coming." He mutters. "Well, Mister Reid, there she is, here I am, what will we work on first?"
"Fern...you are the bat dung expert, so I'll leave the spreading of that to your, ah, expert hands." Resting one hand on a hip, he has another look around the former town's center. "Let's...Muse, there is a lot to do. Let's start with one rain shelter. We can use the foundation and walls...there, and put a roof of some sort on it and board it up so animals won't get the supplies. You don't want a raccoon running off with that pie, do you Jo?" The bard heads for the first destroyed house, singing again, and starts hauling out whatever useful wood there is and setting it aside.
//Following Retribution 1/8/16.
Jo watched as a small gaggle of geese moved from the thin ice of the pond to the more open lapping water beyond in search of food. That was himself and his gifts. He knew it. Ever since he'd run that dark elf wench through, bound as she was, evil as she was, all his frustration with the demands of proof and dealing with the minions of Bolga fueling his arm, he'd felt a lessening, a hollowness where Rofirein had been in his heart. His god hadn't left him completely, but he knew he stood on that sliver of ice before the break of open water. How to go about redeeming himself, now there was a question.
The glow of the Gold
was faded. Does redemption
follow retribution?