Andrew Reid - Letters Home

[RollinsCat]

Originally posted by cbnicholson:

Daniel settles back stroking his mustache lightly with the tips of his fingers, "I am unsure if such a tale is for Toran's faithful alone or for all, but aye, Toran was saved by Lady Daniella's actions, that much I can tell you. I am sorry, but I dare not say more without leave." He frowns slightly as he finishes.

[RollinsCat]

William's eyes shifted to Daniel, then to some point on the far wall for a moment. "Fair enough, then." He returned to the remainder of his supper.

Both Vanessa and Opal let out an "awwww" in concert, then Opal raised her hand. "MayIbeexcusedfromthetableplease?" Her face had a little glow and Shuichi raised eyebrows at her and spoke softly.

"Supper is not over, shasha."

"I just need to get something." She tried to slide a surreptitious look at Daniel and Margret smiled.

"Not being rude but Opal can helping me. We be back in shortly." She stood as Opal beamed, then gave William a pointed look. "You ask guests if they have music or art, hobby?"

"Thank you Oba!" Opal and Margret slipped into the front showroom as William muttered a "yes dear" that made him at that moment sound remarkably like Andrew. He looked at Lana and Daniel again as the sweet rice-coated melon was passed.

"Pottery is our art, as you see."

Andrew broke in. "And music."

"And music. What arts do you enjoy?" He leaned back as Andrew gave Lana a smile and a wink.

[RollinsCat]

Originally posted by cbnicholson:

Daniel brightens, "I do not have the artistic skill that your pieces have, but I find beauty in simple things that I make with my hands, I do a bit of pottery, woodworking, and these.." He sets a few fine topax, garnet, and feldspar on the table that glow with energy,"These are infused with the power of the Great Dragon, when used properly they release their magic granting strength, a skin of stone, the ability to cure poisons, nearly any prayer of use I can call upon can be captured. Do not fear, none of these stones are made to harm, only protect or enhance." He finishes with a smile.

Originally posted by Serissa:

Lana smiles. "I like to sing, especially with Andrew."

[RollinsCat]

Andrew's grin matched Lana's smile. "Before you both go, let's sing - how about the Deep Mother song? A little entertainment after supper? We can swap stanzas. You start..."

Originally posted by cbnicholson:

Daniel chuckles softly, "A real treat, these two in a duet." He sits up a little straighter to hear better.

[RollinsCat]

Originally posted by Serissa:

"It was all so delicious, but I can't eat another bite! I'd love to sing for my supper, though no song could do this feast justice."

Lana takes a last sip of tea, pushes away from the table a bit, and sings.

"Darkness surrounds me, covers me, hides me.
Lest light betray me, in darkness I'll bide me.
Heart of Beryl, oh, give me your fire!
Gems flashing bright I desire."

[RollinsCat]

There was a scurrying when Lana began to sing as Margret and Opal hurried back, each with something behind their backs. Opal hopped into her chair, turning all her attention to Lana; Miyu smiled and Shuichi put his arm across her shoulders, sitting back to enjoy the duet, both studiously ignoring Vanessa making a little melon and rice sculpture on her plate. Margret was a rapt listener, her arms folded on the table and her eyes only for Lana and her son. Even William relaxed a notch and listened with more than polite attention.

Andrew joined in on the last line, his deep tenor underscoring Lana's beautiful feminine voice; he shivered, as he always did, at how well they sounded together, before he sang the next lines.

"An emerald wink, a diamond kiss
The Deep Mother's eternal bliss
Light from inside crystal and stone
Brighter than that which on surface shone..."

[RollinsCat]

Originally posted by Serissa:

*Lana smiles at Andrew and joins in on his last line*

"Skill in their making, long have I prayed for.
For Your Perfection, I'll polish and cut more.
Perfect Beryl, you've set me on fire,
Gems flashing bright I desire!"

[RollinsCat]

"...Gems flashing bright I desire!" Vanessa and Opal joined in with Lana and Andrew, the children's voices adding an sweet choral note to the line, then fell silent as Andrew picked up the next verses.

"A ruby heart, a topaz sun
The Deep Mother's glory done
Chisel and file her hymn and chorus
A thousand points of light before us..."

[RollinsCat]

Originally posted by Serissa:

*Lana motions Andrew to join her in the final verse.*

"Sparkling from fingers or shining from chest,
Wrapped in gold and Deep Mother blessed,
Marriage of passion and mineral fire,
Gems flashing bright I desire."

Originally posted by cbnicholson:

"Good show!" Daniel claps for the two as they finish with a smile.

[RollinsCat]

Their voices carried the last few lines together, and the table clapped along with Daniel. William sat back, wearing his first geniune smile of the evening.

"Milady Lana, that was lovely. You even made him - " He gestured to his son with a glint of amusement " - sound good. Now, you are welcome to stay if you wish for conversation."

Miyu rose and nodded to her girls. Vanessa took a plate back to the kitchen and Opal put the wrapped box she'd been holding on her seat and threw a snowy white cloth napkin over it before picking up dishes and following.

...

Dinner dishes were cleared, some conversation indulged in, much less antagonistically with Margret alert and keeping a close eye on her blunt-spoken husband. Shuichi discussed pottery with Daniel, curious about the cleric's style preferences and technique; Miyu, quiet for the most part, shared a few "parent moments" with them that brought laughing, embarassed protests from their girls. Andrew - for once - kept him mouth mostly shut and listened.

As Daniel and Lana made to leave (Andrew choosing to stay a little longer), Opal hopped in front of Daniel holding the small box elaborately wrapped with red cloth ribbon that she'd hidden under the napkin.

"For you, Daniel! I made it! Oba helped me wrap it though." The box was pressed into his hands with the incandescent smile of an eleven year old girl with a crush. Margret stepped to Lana, handing her a white box a little wider and taller than her palm with blue and green cloth ribbons tied together in a complicated knot.

"You open when home, that is proper. We enjoy visit, you visit again." Waving from Margret, with William and Andrew standing close; Shuichi and Miyu had said goodbye at the table and left to put Vanessa to bed. Andrew walked them out with smiles and thanks, then walked to the barn, humming...

[RollinsCat]

Originally posted by cbnicholson:

Daniel excepts the gift, "Thank you, Opal. Such a gift deserves a return I think." Reaching into a pouch he withdraws a fine topaz humming with power. "If ever you are in the direst of danger, call upon the might of this stone and the fury the Great Dragon will smite your foes, stunning them, allowing you to flee. Keep this stone safe until then for in the wrong hands, it can be a very potent weapon," He finishes gravely pressing it into her hands, he leans forward kissing her forehead and whispering, "The Great Dragon has chosen a mate for myself, but I will always look upon you with favor and as a friend, Opal. Until we meet again, may the Dragon's scales protect you child."

Daniel then turns to Andrew's parents, "Tokaya Willian, Rediou Margret, " he bows with the honorific, "Thank you for the fine meal, I enjoyed my visit immensely. I know this is a house of Illsare, but all fall under the protection of the law and by extension the Great Dragon. May your household continue to be blessed by both love and prosperiety, " Daniel waves and smiles.

[RollinsCat]

Originally posted by Serissa:

Lana accepts the box and hugs Margret, saying, "Oh, Margret! The box itself is a present--it's beautiful! Thank you so much! I'm not sure I can wait until I get home to open it, but I'll try. It's an awfully long trip."

"I loved the food you prepared. Thank you for sharing your home with us. I'd love to visit again someday."

Lana takes a heavy gold chain bearing a pink faceted stone out of her pocket and fastens it around Margret's neck. "I'm just learning to make jewelry, so this isn't very fancy, but you might find it useful in carrying heavy things--it will make you a little stronger. I hope you'll think of me when you wear it."

After saying goodbye to everyone, Lana leaves with Daniel, and frets about the mysterious box all the way home.

[RollinsCat]

Originally posted by osxmallard:

* Aya carefully lays a letter on Andrew's pillow at the inn *

Andrew,

I have been searching for you relentlessly for the past few weeks, but you are nowhere to be found. I am praying that nothing bad has happened to you or has placed you in a predicament out of your control. I shall next travel to Elohanna's school to see if she may know where you are or have been.

I travelled back home a week past but could not bring myself to enter the house or face father and mother. I longed to see Vanessa, but it is better that I do not disturb her and let her go along with her schooling and placement with her new family. Perhaps when she is older she might forgive me and desire to be a part of my life, and I a part of hers.

Would you help me in contacting that elven woman you travelled with, Jaelle? I deeply desire to speak with her about religion. I have been doing some soul searching as of late, and I feel that I am no longer drawn by the arts and beauty of Ilsare. My want is for something more fitting for my soul, a bond with another goddess, and I think Jaelle may be able to assist me with this decision.

Please come home soon. I miss you and love you.

Love,
Aya
__________________

[RollinsCat]

Originally posted by Serissa:

Back from her long journey, Lana finally unwrapped her present, with Katelyn and Bria watching. She carefully untied the twined ribbons and opened the cloth to find the delicate ceramic bowl she had so admired. The vivid blues and greens melted into one another and even seemed to shift back and forth as she turned the bowl, which was so thin that the light glowed through it. The girls gasped in awe and both wanted to hold the bowl. Lana allowed it, just this once, showing them the stylized initials intertwined to make a symbol on the bottom of the bowl. "See, it says ASR, that's Andrew's sister. She made this masterpiece. We're going to put it on its own shelf, so we can look at it every day. It's too beautiful to use, though, so you must not touch it."

After the girls settled down, Lana wrote a letter and sent it on the long journey to Huang-jin.

Dear Margret,

Thank you, thank you for the tea bowl you gave me! I shall treasure it always and think of you and your family when I see it every day. I wish I could have met your daughter--the one who made this lovely thing. She must be a very special person. I know you are very proud of her.

Thank you again for having Daniel and me in your home, and for providing such a delicious meal. I'll have to come visit again sometime, just to get more of your cooking! I really enjoyed getting to meet you and your family, and I hope to see you again someday. May all the good gods bless you.

Sincerely,
Lana Poetr

[RollinsCat]

*sent by bird*

Hello Mother

As promised, I write.  I thank you for the letter and I will let Aya know about Vanessa's new interest in the harp and piano, should I find her.  We've not crossed paths in some time and I will confess some worry.  I'll have to trust Ilsare is keeping her busy and happy.  

I'm hardly surprised about Opal's glass working, the girl's always had the manual dexterity for it and a heart for creation.  Please bid her to make me something that I can display in my room to show off - that should bring a smile!

Things are quiet for the moment and I am preparing to take my lover on a brief but much-needed vacation.  Minu and I will be going to the Breath of the Muse for a week, only fair since I've spent so long under the roof of her Healing Light.  I can't wait to show her around and I pray they'll let her loose in the kitchens.  I look forward to putting on a few pounds that week with savory anticipation!

After that it's back to Tyr'riel and Lor.  In order: your grandson is doing much better, all traces of the pox except for his scarring are gone.  He remains a quiet boy and has only two friends that he plays with regularly.  I fret like an old woman over his introspection but Tyra finds it normal and is unworried, although I think she is glad to be less inconvenienced by him.  He enjoys having his own room, the spare one I rented from Tyrian, although I have had to lock my crates as he can't seem to stay out of them.  

We brought back the swing I made for him and lacking a better place we tie it to the arm of one of the dragon statues and he swings there.  A few of the guests have ratted us out I'm sure but so far Tyrian has not said anything.  The statues are firmly in place, not to worry - they won't topple onto him, I made well sure of that.  

Autumn remains with us although she's been out more often, when I am home, and good for her I say.  She's a beautiful woman and I hope Ilsare touches her soon, despite the loss of her presence and help that would entail.  She will be a fine mother to someone and she's had enough practice!

And, Lor.  My adopted home, and one I need to make official, somehow.  Once again there is a lull as the latest demand is digested; an easy one, this time, reasonable to the citizens and government and of itself something I would support, namely protecting merchant caravans to the Rael border.  Because, yes, there really is a war on, and I was shocked to find it so.  I'm not sure if the news has traveled to Huangjin yet but dark elves attacked Rael's kingdom in coordinated multiple locations.  Mother, I really thought it was a farce, and knowing it's real makes everything that much more complicated.  I can't side with the dark elves, knowing what I know about them.  The damage their raids will cause the citizens is horrific.  I can't side with Rael, because...I just can't.  My only option is to do what I can to protect the citizens who will lose either way.  Although, and it is a cheese grater on my tongue to admit this, they're currently less in danger from their ruler than from his enemies.  

I need to write a song about his "law and order" bringing chaos and war to our surface, as opposed to the peace that the "chaotic" former government maintained.  People forget so quickly.  I've been reminding them as much as I can before the as-yet unfinished law governing what the citizens will be allowed to say in public is finished.  And learning as much as I can about modulation and projection in the context of the Heartsong to boot.  A firm understanding still eludes me but I figure out a little more each time I try.

So, say a prayer for this little jut of land that kisses the ocean, still trying to be free as one "request" after another anesthetizes them to their eventual fate.  I will continue to sing the truth...but I have a sick feeling that the snake will swallow us eventually.

Ty and I will be there for the holidays.  I will try my best to bring Minu with me so please stop sliding that hint into every third sentence, my not-so-subtle progenitor.  If her schedule permits, we'll all be there.

Love to the family

Your loving son and grandson,

Tashe
*scribed in a child's hand, in carefully printed letters*TYR ' RIEL

[RollinsCat]

*scribbled onto rain-spotted pages in a journal*

Oma
Grovel
Nonac
Kylie
Jil
Lance
Flynn
Griff
Ysgraine
Xanya
Zig
Griff
Trouble
Aerimor
That weird guy from the spider caves
Quiet elf male, tribal tattoos

We're deep in the forest near the Great Oak.  Tried to catch a glimpse, could not see it.

Group is shuffling about - Grovel has gone to ask about seeing the Council.  He thinks he's in charge, this should be fun.

Saw some very cute druid-y type females.  They might have been males, come to think of it.  I'm not sure it makes a difference to me right now - must remember to behave.

Talk of the forest and the Cult.  Grovel is completely against letting the Cult through, Zig seems more inclined to listen, Trouble is keeping an open mind.  I think we should rig the deal as much as possible.

Took some water from a stream to fill my canteen, best freshest water I've tasted in a while.  It's nice here, even if there isn't any room service.

Supposedly there are a couple High Druids here from East and West, but I can't tell them from the low druids, or the bargain-basement druids.  They all are kind of leafy and tan.  Walker of Horn, Shinto of Nesar, Larina from Hilm and Morimer from Kuhl - druids whose names are being bandied about - are also speaking.  And Lance, but he's mum on why.

Two mystery speakers are also coming.  And Kuhl's ambassador, Lister Tremaine.  Puppet for the Cult, probably, and I've been a negotiation like that before - we'll see how smug he is.  He does like his Drach Garra bodyguards, and that mustache.  I wonder if he has his own personal groomer?  You could deflect arrows with that thing as waxed as it is.  I wonder about him, this Lord of Ash.  He had been in charge of Ash under Queen Alise Langovale before the takeover...a plant, or an opportunist?

Queen Dierdre of Horn is here somewhere but she's keeping a low profile.  I wonder if she's single...

They're moving us from the tents to the meeting area.  Still can't see the Great Oak.  I estimate fifty people plus entourage, and I'm sure there are more I can't see.  Very noisy.  The Queen is seated - pretty, not stunning.  Still...

Stars and song, Oma just sat next to the Queen.  I am choking trying not to laugh.

Mortimer is a chunker, as I was told.  He looks like an easygoing old guy who's been put through a wash-ringer.  He can't stop clenching and unclenching his hands and he's not making eye contact.  Someone got to him.

Grovel's talking to him, I can't hear over the din of voices.  He's offering him pie - Muse, goblin pie.  This could end negotiations right now.

Good, he didn't eat it.  He's not that stupid.

Walker of Horn was pointed out to me.  Tall for an elf - slim, blond and blue.  Icy eyes and the look of a hunter.  

Shinto's big.  Big hands, strong legs, wide shoulders, smug expression.  Either he knows something or he's just cocky.  He's got Island blood from somewhere, Corsain or Tilmar.

Larina, there she is - she just came out.  She's a halfling, I like her look - friendly and open.  Walks like a mother tiger.

There's a human man, a little older than I, expensive robes - Muse, Black Wizards!  Silver and red threads in that pattern on that cut of black robe.  Has to be.

I've been told that's Andras fen Carwyn.  I'm afraid I might have a guess why a Black Wizard is here...

Wow, the elf behind Larina is gorgeous.  Really, really gorgeous.  She looks young but she has the same confidence I see on Minu so I don't think she's that young.  Muse she's lovely.

She caught me staring.  Just smiled politely and looked away.  Probably going to wash out if I try.

I'll probably try anyway.  Hot!

The High Druids just arrived, both female.  I'll never spell this name correctly - Laudel Antha Earl-Ethreal and Bella - Bella?  I must introduce them.  Bella Wyvenstrom.

Lance better quit cracking his neck like that or he's going to end up in traction.

Grovel's standing and calling Zig up - Laudel is speaking.  Welcoming us all, very formal, Trouble's gone wandering.

Good, the rain's stopped, I need a cigar so bad my teeth itch.

She's calling it an alliance between Horn and Kuhl - mutual understanding, trade, and military.  Grovel warned us they'd be looking to stick Horn in front of them like a shield.  There is it.

Lister's up first to speak.  Dusting his coat, how nice and symbolic.  Formal court bowing.  He's well trained.  Thank you, admiration and respect, blah blah.  "Proud to offer you the opportunity to ally with the strong and benevolent kingdom of Khul".  WHAT IS IT WITH THE BENEVOLENT??!!  Is there an evil empire out there that actually has the guts to be what they are?  I have so heard this song and dance before.

Now he's listing the benefits.  Right.  "Guarantee safety of Horn and Great Forest".  Yes, he's from the School of Rael Ambassadors.  

Now he's on about how they care about nature in Kuhl - not taking too much, not cutting down trees, not hunting for sport.  Admitting room for growth and asking for ambassadors - clever.  Some rumblings from around me about all the farms they have in Kuhl - that would jive with the first Triple S target...

Oma's pouting about not being allowed to sit up with the Queen.  This time I did laugh.  Funny old witch!

Loyal and proud to be allies, sure you would.  And it's raining again - bloody pits, my cigar's out.  At least Lister didn't slip and say "demands" but it's the same story - we're more powerful, and we'll destroy what you love if you don't accept us.  Bloody tyrants - they have nothing but power to leverage and the will to do it.  And when we fight, we get blamed for collateral damage.

Walker's up next.  He's not happy.  "No matter how the coin falls, the outcome will not be in our favor".  Truth, brother.  

Kuhl captured a Great Eagle and nailed it to a tree to get Plenarius' attention?  Sick.  Good thing Keppli's not here, she'd attack the entourage I'd bet.

He's pointing out the lives and forest lost to war.  Once again, the will to destroy trumps the desire to preserve.  Go to war, and battle Kuhl - ally and battle their enemies for them.  Smart man.  He's pointing out what a major shaping of the land might occur -

Good, now he's putting some druid muscle on the line.  "Think of what 'we' could do once our anger is aroused".  

Oh, he's against that.  Muse.  He's asking for us to consider the implications of refusing the alliance.  Yes, Belinara would change - but change can be good.  And hiding behind what always was gives you what always is.  They win.

Shinto's up.  He's smiling in a self-satisfied way.  Trues to pastries the Black Wizard is here with him.  I'm betting he'll vote against the alliance to weaken both kingdoms for Nesar.

Not fond of doomsayings?   You work for Corathites by the Muse!  You guys take classes in doomsaying and monologuing!

Now he's going on about how Kuhl has never been a problem for Nesar and dragons are not our friends.  Hard logic to argue, actually - we're ants to them.  Annoying, loud ants who smell funny.

The utterly gorgeous elven woman is tense and just cursed, in what language I do not know.  Shinto just finished up weighing in for an alliance - I lose my bet.   Good thing I didn't wager with myself.

Larina is next.  She's too short for the rock slab podium.  Not steady in her confidence for some reason.  She's asking to stand beside the bolder...she should stand on top of it!  Make a statement!

Kuhl helped Hilm with Xandrial's pit spawn problem?  Before the Cult, then.  She said that like someone was yanking a splinter, so she's trying to be fair.

Ah - here we are.  Transforming human beings into half dragons or lizardmen, yes, that's relevant.  She's pointing the finger right at Lister.  Good for her!  And speaking of controlling dragons, and enslaving creatures, that's not going to go over well.  Kind of a sentient habit to enslave creatures.  Hells, I own a horse and an ox, so I'm not really one to talk either...

Aerimor says it's slavery to own a horse - well, he said "yes" when I asked myself that.  I should have a druid talk to Sonata and see what she thinks.  I'm pretty sure Ribs is happy to hang out with other oxen and eat all the time.

She doesn't want to fight with them but doesn't want to pick up the sword with the other hand.  She's recommending neutrality.  Force them to show their hand!  "If we cannot side with peace, then why side at all?"

Mortimer is speaking.  He's walking slow, is he ill?

He's not sure he should have a voice?  He has no right?  Interesting...

Grovel's trying to take his place.  Mortimer's saying he's not fit and someone else should speak for Kuhl.  Laudel is arguing with him, telling him to speak his mind.

He's speaking for Kuhl but he doesn't want to.  His shoulders are sagging, he won't look at anyone.  Either they are all blind or they've never faced a hostile audience before - he's not speaking his heart.

More than that he's saying the opposite of what some seem to remember.  He's been threatened.  I'm calling out for a replacement.

He's trying to stand straight - come on man, take a stand...what do you care about that they hold from you -

Wait, he's saying he refuses to be a slave - I'm trying to send song to him, using my lower tones, maybe it will help.

His daughter!  He's accusing Lister and his entourage of being murders, criminals, corrupters...he refuses to bow, even if it means his daughter's life!  The gallery's erupted in noise!  Lister is confronting him, looking outraged -

Mortimer is saying Arian, Kuhl's best tracker, lost the scent of his daughter as if she vanished or was picked up.  Lister is playing the disbelief card, now Mortimer's calling for war on Kuhl, "we must be the bolder that rolls down the mountain".  He looks like a bolder.

Laudel's trying to calm him - daughter's name is Neria.  She's asking for proof.  Either way the Cult wins this round unless he has proof.  Unless they let Grovel speak for Kuhl.  Please, let the goblin up there...

Mortimer's arguing they want to sway his voice, good point but not proof.  This will go badly.

There it is - he's not been approached with terms from any kidnappers, he has no proof.  Let the goblin and the dwarf speak!

What the pits is Zig building over there, a pyre?

Mortimer is broken, he's sitting like a statue - "do you know what this will cost me?"  The druid from the spider cave is comforting him.

Lister is doing outrage again.  He's good.  He's promising to put "his best man on the case" to Mortimer.  Odd, he seems sincere...  Now he's addressing the panel - saying this was a set-up to make him look bad, a criminal -

Muse, he's not kidding, or at least he seems really surprised about the accusation.  He's saying he's a father and I just don't hear any of the usual tells...

Grovel whispers "kidnapping dragons ok though" in the squeakiest sarcasm I've ever heard from a goblin.  Truth.

He's saying he won't hold it against Mortimer.  He's sitting down.  Slippery kusatta roba but I don't think he's lying this time.

Gorgeous elf is next - Y'ogoldrania...

Maybe a dragon in human form?  My heart just went double time.  Still hot!

She knows first hand of the poison.  Dragon, I'd stake my voice on it.  She's saying it's not a new poison but not completely in it's ancient form either.  She's against the alliance, saying the taint will spread from Horn.  I can't stop staring.

Zig's next.  He's lit the pile next to him - pyre, right again.  Some druid thing?  Stars and song, he's putting his arm in the fire and charring it!  Smells awful. He's put it out and walked up.  He's holding his arm up - "you burn my skin and I will be in pain, I will eventually heal and recover, you cut my heart out and I will die."  Dramatic pause - don't hold it too long, Zig, timing, know your audience...

He's speaking: A war may or may not take place, and will do damage and burn the forest, but if the taint is allowed to form an alliance Horn will eventually be taken over and no longer have a neutral voice for it's protection, it will be corrupted as Phaal was, that's how they work, Muse my hand hurts, starting small but building power through deceit and intimidation...

By the Muse, Zig, slower!  Comparing Kuhl to Prantz with the promises and protections, now about the farming until the land is barren, that's why they look to Horn's woods - Zig saw Kuhl troops mutilating forest renders, despite their assurances they don't hunt - leaving them to rot - can you eat forest render?  I wonder if they taste like salad? Nonac looks hungry all of a sudden - Zig's saying Mortimer already sent emissaries to teach them to protect nature -

Some woman is talking to Lister, wearing an eye patch, thank the Muse Zig's slowing down.  Something about Kuhl listening but not hearing on how to best preserve their farms, so they're seeking new forest.

A Kuhl plot against Hilm?  

*big ink blot*

He's accusing Kuhl of having blood pools to make the dragon poisons, abusing the lands, using Horn to attack Hilm - with an alliance with Nesar, they'd have the whole continent -

Lister's trying to horn in, Laudel's refusing him - Lister is angry, staring daggers at Zig - saying how blood pools caused the great darkening, something about Bastion dying full of blood well poison, corrupting the woods around it where it landed - alliance is the antithesis of what the druids stand for - good point, nice word Zig.  He's wrapping up, I think, the alliance goes against everything druids strive to preserve and give them credibility they don't deserve.  

Gallery is erupting in applause.  Lance is whispering his job is a little easier now.

Grovel is up.  Gods, my hand -

Introducing himself as Grovel Foaming Wolf, Druid of Wolf totem, shaman of Warg Tribe, etc.

He's groveling.  Ow, it hurts not to laugh.

Speaking to how much we've heard today, about adventurers and what they see and hear and experience, and the scary news...calling the Green Dragon Cult the Kuhl Cult.  Can't say that ten times fast I bet.

Speaking to the poisons fed humans and dragons that warp and destroy the natural form - asking is it good for the Oak?  Asking if they respect the ceasefire, his answer, no - back to the renders and chopping of trees, attacking druids on sight - saying allowing them free passage gains Horn nothing, gives Kuhl everything - by the Muse he's speaking clearly, dropping the goblin accent.  AHA!  I knew it!  

There, it's back.  Saying if they walk free in the woods, they'll attack the cities, capture dragons, bring angry mobs back to burn the woods, the dragons will burn the forest with dragon fire, more on the poison and corruptions, speaking on the magic as bad as necromancy...

Okay, he's brought Bloodstone up.  I wondered when someone would.  Calling him the last dragon hunter.  Talking about Bloodstone bringing Eon's fire to the woods, bringing Rael to take power and spread, the blood wells, the death that destroyed half the world - how he attacked the Great Oak directly - he's very animated, the council seemed either amused or repulsed at first but they're listening now - tying all that to the new dragon hunters, using a blood well, putting the world at stake - speaking of the backlash, the Toranites, Steel's mercenaries, who would see Horn as Kuhl's ally.

Asking the council to drive Kuhl out - "Out of our woods!  Defile not our forests!  Th KUHL Dragon Cult should know no refuge in the sanctity of the oak!"  Good passion, there.

Now he's raising his fist and cheering "No More Kuhl Dragon Cult!" - there is some cheering, no, wait, that's Nonac and Kylie - now Ysgraine, no response from the other side.

*the handwriting's slant shifts from right to left*

Andras is stepping up.  Y'ogoldrania looks as if she's going to have kittens.  He's being respectful and smooth, of course.  He's saying he has nothing further to say on the matter, and is thankful they've all been given voice.  He's sitting down!  Interesting...

Lance is standing.  He's being called forward - he has a proposal?  Lots of whispering, Ysgraine is murmuring, Grovel thinks we've won.

He's representing Hilm in a proposal for an alliance between Hilm and Horn!  Good stuff, Lance.  Speaking of shared ideals, the need that allowed the kingdom to be born...he's speaking for Lord Protector Alexander Fortain, a general and leader of Kuhl and now in Hilm - standing for peace, and the cause of peace - keep going, Lance, keep going, they're listening - speaking now of the alliance being safety for both kingdoms, good.

Talking now of how he's not one with the land, no kidding Lance, you tin can - assuring them that they know the priorities, and they understand what is important to Horn - acknowledging differing points of view, but putting forth hope of working together instead of praise and flattery, nice one Lance - asking to be considered an ally standing for the good of Belinara, created by the wisdom of the three Kingdoms in the past.

Applause, well done Mister Stargazer - maybe I have to quit calling him Navelgazer now?  Nice polite bow to the Kuhl ambassador, no smirking.

Lister's rebutting.  Murmuring from the Gallery.  Does it do nothing but rain here?

Playing the "groundless accusations" card.  Coming to extend a hand to the Kingdom of Horn, good will and a promise of future peace - and are accused of slaying renders, now saying the renders are bloodthirsty and attack farms, killing indiscriminately, men women and children - speaks about blood wells, saying history has taught not to mess with those and Bloodstone is old history - not that old, buster - and being offended that Hilm has put up their own proposal - Lance looks offended.  Or constipated, hard to see -  now Lister's refuting that Kuhl is about to go to war with Hilm, saying he'd know if that were the case...he's looking at his men now - does he know, or not?

Now he's talking about how Kuhl helped with Hilm's pit creature struggles, saying Kuhl is selfless and acts for the common good.  Now about the dragons, how Molten Isle was the end result of letting them loose - well, Fisty's a nice host even if the cover charge is a little steep - he's talking about the aftermath of the dragon wars, looking at Y'ogoldrania specifically - trying to justify enslavement by comparing it to a rabid dog in the yard - Grovel's accusing him of using the rabid dog to attack others - Lister says no, Grovel's standing up now - Ysgraine is trying to restrain him.

Lister is saying that the people of Ash and Phaal delight in their dragon protectors, says they are allowed to ride on their backs and feed them - Grovel is on about the necromancy again, Nonac thinks they're feeding the dragon children, clean out your ear wax Nonac - Grovel's yelling, Laudel's demanding silence.

Gallery is quieting, Laudel is allowing questions, asking it to be short.

Trouble is raising his hand - Trouble Tempest of Palden Lake, to Lister - asking if the alliance - he's nodding to Aerimor - had a mutual non-aggression pack stating neither Horn nor Kuhl could go to war with any other body would Kuhl honor it?  Lister says what if Kuhl is attacked.  Trouble says it exempts the right to defend one's self.  They'd only goad someone into attacking them, such as Hilm.

Lister weasels, saying it would have to be negotiated, and he's confident it would prove favorable.  Trouble's nodding and moving back.

Griff's moving up - full armor, the druids are sucking lemons at that - Griff Silversand, Paladin of That Dwarven War God - he's got a question for Trouble?  Why not just ask him quietly?  Confusion in the gallery.

Trouble's telling him he's not in charge.  Ysgraine and Admorian - note to self, spider cave druid's name - placed a bet because payment is being worked out.  Ysgraine is looking smug.  Griff is pointing out how Kuhl would only force an attack to get around the non-aggression pact, my point exactly - Lister's calling it an accusation, Griff's telling him to shut it but politely - Trouble's answering, he's fidgeting - he thinks they would?  Grovel's yelling for Lister to sit down - Trouble's amending his statement, saying they'd honor it until Horn had served it's purpose, then they'd be turned on - notes this as personal opinion.  Notes that this is all about what's best for Horn.

The wild-looking druid next - Drogo of Alindor, druid of the Oak - goes back to Lister's statement of the dog being chained - asks why they believe the wilds and dragonkin are dogs.  

I've been requested to ask a question.

Drogo is saying no dragon of free will allows itself to be chained - he's looking to Lister - Grovel seems to like saying Mister Lister - Lister is doing the soothing statesman now, saying it's only a figure of speech.  Drogo says his common is not good, then brings up that children ride and feed the dragons in Ash and Phaal.  Lister says that if you have a life threat you act to prevent it or wait until it's too late - after Bloodstone fell, dragons came "seemingly from nowhere".  He says some may not seek to conquer adn enslave, but many do.  Drogo says that Lister/Kuhl sees themselves as the new Bloodstone and thanks them for the clarification.  Lister speaks over him about who will challenge them - Drogo says all beings have places - Lister's backpedaling on the Sinthar comparison - Drogo's as calm as a rock, leading him with simple words, Muse this is interesting to watch - Drogo says his words say one thing, then another - Lister says Kuhl can negate an all-encompassing threat to all races - Drogo says that is why they are not of the oak, dragons are part of the whole - Ow, cramps - Lister offers a tour to Drogo, Grovel accepts, Drogo steps back.

Last questions, I'll find out after the council debates.

Mrs. Ysgraine Ursus of the Ursus clan, shaman and druid of Krashin - go, my Sister! - asks bluntly how Kuhl can be trusted.  Lister responds that other nations would go to war with them if they backed out of a treaty - except they are allied with Nesar, bloody liars, and that leaves Hilm all alone.  He's speaking about trust now, how if we didn't trust leadership we wouldn't be standing here today.

Nonac tried to push me off Y'ogoldrania, the little booger.  She's not fond of crowds or being eye to eye with people - didn't have a chance to ask her for a stroll, the council's back.

They've decided.

They declined the offer of Kuhl!  Score one for the non-poison-using good guys!

Oh dear, they're looking at Lance now - he's about to get shot down as hard as I will be when I try to take Y'ogoldrania to supper.

Yep.  "We're not prepared to enter an alliance with the Hilm Protectorate.  We have negotiated before and may do so again.  Our past links us.  We will consider your offer in the future."  Don't write me, I'll write you.  Boy do I know that line.

Lister says it's most unwise, he's sorry to be forced to say this - here it comes - if you're not with us, you're against us.  Most definitely the school of Rael, there.

Saying what a tragedy it would be if the day were to arise that Horn was "against" Kuhl.  And, he leaves, with the eyepatched woman leading.  Laudel is calling the druids out - Lance, seriously, you're going to hurt yourself - and if you end up in a neck brace I'll find a way to laugh at you every single day -

Laudel is asking the druids do not stir up the hornet's nest while they figure out the balance.  Nothing to give them a reason to come at Horn.  Druids are agreeing, most of them - the goblins, not so much.  She's saying a sending will come out soon.  Trouble is speaking of increasing defenses, Aerimor to speak to the High Druid, Grovel on Mortimer's daughter - Muse, I'm hungry - they're debating whether Mortimer should stay in his post, Lance wants to talk to me.

He wants a copy of the events.  Must edit out some things.   I'll offer this to the High Druids and the Queen as well.



*The notes end here - he shares most of this information in conversation with those he knows have a stake in Cult goings-on; EDIT, not the superfluous parts and not his suspicions about the gorgeous elf woman being a dragon - he will not mention these things*

//This was scribed live during the proceedings.  Nothing was added or edited from the above commentary after the event was over; everything is exactly as it was written moment to moment.

[RollinsCat]

They walked in to the Twin Dragons, the father nodding to a few of the patrons, the son gripping two of his father's fingers in a warm and sticky hand.  The rock-sugar bribe the father had offered had not cheered as it would have any other day; the boy accepted it with a weak smile that made tiny ovals of his facial scars, and sucked mechanically as they strolled from the Arms to home.

They moved together across the great room, the father taking it in with a suddenly critical eye given what he was likely going to be purchasing soon.  The flow of people, the placement of the bar - I'm an alcoholic, and I'm buying a bar.  Brilliant, Tashe - the stage area, the kitchen.  The physical protections, locks...any large openings, the height of the windows.  He'd scanned as much of the roof as he could walking up and fully intended to do a walkabout up there as soon as he could.  Slate, it looked like, which was good.  He wondered briefly what the roof of the Weary Traveler was made of and if it would resist clawed feet.

"I'm tired."  Plainly put, without whining.  He shot a worried look at his son.  

"You can nap soon, Ty.  Let's talk first - your mother tells me you both went to Rachel's funeral."  The child gave a hesitant nod, his face scrunching.

"We used to play tag.  She showed me where the frogs were in the creek, where Charlie showed her, when I got babysatted there."  The boy paused just short of the door to the private residence hall.  "She's dead.  That means we can't play anymore, ever..."  He didn't move, as if the understanding were mortar around his feet.  His father scooped him up in a fierce hug before shifting the child to one arm.

"Death happens, Tyri.  It's a sad thing, it leaves you empty - right here - "  He tapped just left of his breastbone - "But it does happen.  It..."  Soothing words tripped and fell, useless.  The child understood enough to hurt but not enough to be comforted.

"Why didn't she come back?  Come back to the...the stone?"  

"Not everyone does that.  In fact, most people do not."

"How come?  Will I?"  Intense dark eyes, with the same slant, the same folds, almost the same color as the man he stared at.  The father forgot, often, that the son was not of his body.

"Not yet, Tyri.  That's a decision that you can make when you're older."

"I'm old enough.  I want to be binded."  The father opened his mouth to argue, then deferred.  A tired child made for a very long argument.  

"We'll talk about that later, when you've slept and when your mother is around."  He braced himself, but Ilsare smiled on him and the child let it go.  "Ty, I'm going to sing for Grandmother and Grandfather - my grandparents, your great-grandparents - do you want to play for them?"

The small dark eyes narrowed, and the boy sucked on the bend of his thumb for half a minute.  "Yes."

"Okay, I'm going to put you down now and I'll set up.  Watch what I do, Tyri, and ask questions if you wish."

"What are great grandparents?"

The mahogany box was in a bottom drawer of his desk and felt warm to the touch, or so he imagined.  He opened it and removed a green crackle-glazed bowl, a phial of oil, a candle - he'd made the candle, and the bowl - and a pouch of grey dust.  The boy's question hung unanswered.  He held the little pouch in a cupped hand, one thumb stroking the thin leather.

"You know I'm your father, and Tyra is your mother."  A nod from the child as the father poured water from a carafe into the bowl.  "And you know that Grandfather Shiff and Grandma Val are your mother's daddy and mommy, and oji-Reid and Oba are my daddy and mommy."  Another nod.  "Liang and Rose are...were...oji-Reid's daddy and mommy."  The oil drops spread across the surface in a whisper-thin rainbow slick.

"What're you doing?"  

"This is a way for me to - it's a tradition, something Grandfather Liang taught me.  A way to honor them.  I miss them very much."  Just a pinch of the dust over the bowl, and he wiped his fingers carefully afterward.  "It helps me feel closer to them."

The child watched as the candle was lit and a wavering blue flame swirled across the water's surface.  His father crossed his legs, leaned over, and folded his arms across his chest, bowing his head toward the bowl.  He sang, some long-ago song that the boy kind of remembered.  The boy's guitar was lying inside the door and he scooted to get it, settling himself in front of the little flame.  He didn't know who he was playing for and wasn't sure if the spirits would be in the room to hear him or in Ilsare's heaven or somewhere else, so he played his song, his first song, and thought about his grandparents instead.  His father's eyes were closed and the song was wordless now, just sound, just melody.  The boy relaxed even though he was really tired and strummed to match the feeling he always got listening to his daddy sing.

The flame vanished on the water.  The man rose, unfolded his arms, opened his eyes.  The boy set pushed his guitar aside and crawled to his father's lap.  Neither spoke for many minutes, until a growling stomach made the boy giggle.

"You need snack, daddy."

"I know.  Ty, look at me."  The child looked up.  "You heard how Rachel died."

"The mist monsters got her."

A nod.  "She got Rebecca home safe before they did, but there is no one to get you home safe if you're out playing and the mists come.  I've asked your great-grandparents to watch over you, but you have to do your part.  I know you are sneaky, and I know you can hide.  So if the mists come, Ty, you sneak, and you hide.  Just like I've taught you, your mother has taught you, Autumn has taught you.  No running, no screaming, just find a hidey-place and be still, and be quiet.  Can you do that?"

The child's nod was solemn.  "Good.  We'll practice."  The man patted the boy's head and stood.  "Let's get some supper, and then you can nap."

[RollinsCat]

To:
Margaret Reid
2 Clay Ward
Huangjin
Tilmar

Hello Mother.  I write hoping things are well, and business is good, and to let you know I'm buying an Inn.  I'll let that sink in a moment.

Still with me?  Good.

I don't own it yet as I still need to meet with the owners and negotiate.  I have the money, I was able to line up investors -- who knew I had any skills with securing capital?  The Inn I have my eye on is a place in Mariner's Hold.  It's a large building, using up much of the land it's built on, so there are no pastures or gardens.  Finding a place to put the stables is going to be tricky and its waterfront property which limits any front yard.  But, it is well kept up and in good repair if a bit outdated in décor; it belonged to a merchant guild since passed to obscurity from what I was able to find out.  And, Muse willing, it's going to be mine.  I'll keep you posted on the purchase.

I imagine you've just asked yourself why a boy who could never keep two feet in the same place thinks he has any business tying himself to one -- I asked myself that also.  But I know the answer.  Lately, as I have slowly become marginally less a mystery to myself (more on that later), I've looked back on things I've said and done and a letter came to mind that I wrote to Angela Swann -- she's the former member of the Lor Diet that I told you about, and a friend.  I was writing to her about ways to impede Rael's march to the corners of Dregar and a personal truth came out on paper.  I am a man with no standing, no reputation save that of a musician, no permanent address, and no property.  While this has never been a problem before, when I think of things I may want to do someday -- assuming Ilsare blesses me with a long and healthy life -- it will become one.  Clout and respect are earned, not freely given, a lesson I'm trying to impress on Ty right now I might add.  And one I'm still learning.

So I am looking to secure and run a business, and bless the Muse for Minuet.  She's not only offered to teach me how to use a ledger and some basic bookkeeping but she's even considering moving into the Inn with me.  Her place in Fort Llast is under increasingly bold attacks due to small minds and fearmongering.  I'm afraid she'll end up having to hurt someone -- I'm not afraid she'll end up hurt, her magic is that powerful.  But she's one of Aeridin's and even to be forced to kill someone in defense would lay her heart low.  So I asked, and she's considering -- I sweetened the pot with an offer to let her be in charge of the large and very functional kitchen, and her own personal storage room off of it.  She liked that idea very much.

That and I told her she'd have to sleep with the boss!

So while that deal simmers, and I await the owners who may be a few months yet due to travel, I have spent a great deal of time with Tyr'riel.  His normal quiet smiles are dim right now over the loss of a friend, a girl-child named Rachel who was attacked in the horrifying mists that were everywhere recently.  Tyra took him to her funeral and he came back very upset.  He's been talking about binding himself to the stones so he won't die which tells me he's got some concept of what death is; I've forbidden him to do that at this time.  He's also become overprotective of Rachel's little sister, Rebecca, who survived the attack.  I should mention both these children are Daniel's girls, the Daniel Poetr who came to supper long ago.  You remember him I'm sure.  I know father does.

With all that Ty's experienced he's become a handful lately.  His mother bought him a sword for his sixth birthday, not something she discussed with me, but we both agreed he'd only practice with it when one of us was attending.  I'm pleased by his choice -- a single wakazashi and a fine one at that.  He's true to his blood, my son.  

You asked me if he was thinking of what he'd want to do someday.  He shows no signs of any innate connection to the Al'Noth, nor any desire to learn, and although his guitar playing is quite good now he's no singer.  What he does want is to practice swords with me.  I'm flattered that he's interested in his old dad -- it's always been his mother who's taught him blades, but he's become enamored of my style of fighting, so this last month I've split the training time with Tyra.  I'm going to have to get Master Damon involved at some point as I'm not really qualified to teach the moves I practice but for the time being, it's nice to share the intricate dance of the unarmored fighter together.  And I cherish this time that I can actually beat him in a duel, because the way he's going, it won't be for long.

In fact he's awash in people who are happy to help him -- myself, his mother, Viper, a woman who does not speak but fights with two swords as Tyra does and is a patient teacher.  And surprisingly effective for her lack of speech; he watches her quietly when they train since he knows she won't yell.  And Steel, who has just reopened the Arms.  He's...unique...in appearance due to his heritage, and I recall Ty walking up to him and kicking him in the shins without hesitation upon first laying eyes on him.  That's when I informed your grandson that he'd better pay attention to his lessons because he'll only get away with that once.

If you're skimming, the short, not-Andrew answer to your question is: he's going to do some kind of bladework, if he doesn't grow sick of it all and just become a carpenter.  Not that I'd blame him.

As for me; Lor is quiet at the moment, no new demands made that I know of and so I when I received an invitation to meet with some members of the Resonance of Being I was happy to accept.  Ty traveled with me, although he stayed with his mother in the Tower while I traveled to outskirts of the Breath of the Muse.

I'm not sure what I was expecting as it's been so long since I was in contact with the Resonance.  What I got was a lecture from a stern elven woman named Keisha who told me I was untrained (true), impatient (also true) and typical of a human male.  Which I guess I am, but I risked her ire to argue that point.  After all, isn't the heart of racial hatred assumptions and stereotyping?  And here she was, stamping me with the "Male, Human, One" mark of doom.  It irked me -- and of course, I caught myself thinking, "Elf superiority.  Typical."  I despair that we'll ever find common ground as two races.

(I will add that if an elf challenges you to guess how long they've been learning something, don't rise to the bait.  Because the next words out of their mouth, especially the women, will be "do I look THAT OLD?!".  No winning, there.  You think I'd have learned by now).

As it turns out, I was offered a mentor, something that I confess I've desperately needed.  Keisha offered to aid me in dampening emotions, a shy but enthusiastic young lady by the name of Elaina offered assistance with augmenting emotions, and a man by the name of Francesco Westford was introduced who is learning both paths.  We all played together and the music nearly sent me over the edge.  I've sought sensation my whole life, in all the wrong places, and yet here it is -- the feelings that my music has teased me with, the deep peace it lends when I burrow into the notes, expanded and bursting, leaving me shaking and wanting more.  For just a moment I was madly frustrated that I don't know how to create that feeling except in lucky flashes here and there.  Being aware and impotent is worse than ignorance.

When I'd settled down I was asked to choose.  After our verbal sparring I didn't feel Keisha and I would have a smooth rapport, and Elaina is painfully shy when she's not performing and a woman who comes from downtrodden roots that I sensed I have little in common with.  So while the ladies were lovely and certainly interesting, it was Francesco whom I felt most comfortable speaking to.  He's from Arnax and a man with bodies -- literally -- in his past.  There is kinship there, both from my adventuring and from the hearts I've left behind.  Straight away we were talking about how one makes up for one's past.  I think it was foregone at that point and both ladies left quietly as we continued to talk.

I know this is getting long, but I'm reliving it as I write so indulge me, mother.  Franco -- that is what he asked me to call him, as he calls me Drew which I find I don't mind -- and I talked for a while longer, then came to a place in the conversation where it felt right to play.  He is also a violinist, by the way, another thing that gave me a sense of familiarity with him.  We took up our instruments and started on some common tunes.  At some point it became improvisation and he took the lead.  His song was sorrow and I followed, finding myself drawn in, playing on even after he shifted to accompaniment.  I can't say when this was for by then I was crying and totally lost.  I ended up playing parts of Willow, something I wrote for Minu, and another song that I've practiced so many times with illusionary sound as a part that apparently I was casting the illusions as I bowed, while crying.  I remember little; I was completely absorbed in the song.

It shook me.  Franco said I was influencing my own emotions, but again, I didn't feel the control; I didn't feel like I knew what I was doing, or doing it consciously.  So we worked on that when I'd calmed down.  We did exercises in selecting the notes that create the mood, and being open to that mood even while choosing it -- being the performer and the audience at once.  It's trickier than it sounds.  He gave me his address and told me to practice, and we parted ways.

I think I miss him a little.  I have few male friends.

I've practiced since and I can say this: not only is it not easy, it's painful at times.  How can I explain?  When I play to myself, to try and influence how I feel, and on the few times I've succeeded, it's not been as deliberate as I'd like.  I want to raise my spirits, so I play with my own ears and heart open -- and what pours out are things I never expected.  Things I have long prided myself on being above; fear, anger, lust...hatred.  I've sat, furious at myself and twice as much so for having played myself to that state, and wondered where all this is coming from?  I'm a genial and easygoing man of jest, an entertainer, who puts up with jokes and little disappointments with a smile and a shrug.  Right?

I'll keep working at it -- I know I can do it now, I only need to figure out how to control it although frankly, all this anger and fear and whatnot is making control difficult.  I should have time to practice coming up.  I will be out of communication for some time as I'm traveling to Sedera with a friend who happens to be a giant -- a short giant, but a giant.  I do not joke; he's over eight feet tall.  He makes me feel the way a lot of people feel around me and I get a little kick out of having to look up at him.  We're off to try and negotiate for silver, trying the bloodless path for a change.  I've traveled the Dregar deserts and fought the giant tribes without flinching years ago, but meeting this measured son of stone -- he follows Grannoch, and is a cleric of her faith -- has changed my perceptions.  It's not the same as making a promise to an animal-loving halfling, although I've done my best to honor that.  It's knowing that these giants have children, and dreams, and make music, and are not just oversized pells for us to practice on.  I hope that I can do something to make up for my past (a theme for me, redemption, it seems!) and I'll let you know how that goes.

And now to pack and give your eyes a rest.

Daisuki desu, mother.


Tashe and Ty

[RollinsCat]

The bedroll was thin comfort over rock, his pack tucked behind it in a shallow crevice.  Two giants kept hard eyes on him; one standing close, spear in hand and muscles twitching, the other sitting and blocking entirely the sole exit to the chamber.

He finished singing a lengthy healing song, having been 'helped" to the corner of the cavern in a manner that resulted in a dislocated shoulder.  Re-locating it had been trial and excruciating error ending in a POP that cut his knees from under him.  Agony faded to mere pain, a dull spiderweb masking other, less demanding hurts.  There was nothing to do but wait and see what else they would do.  

He began to figit.  Well, he could play, if his socket would bear movement - he leaned forward and rotated the shoulder.  Showers of needles followed by a stab in the gut, and he froze against a wave of nausea.  

Right.  Singing it is.

Folding his legs to sit, he began to hum.  He had to time it with his ragged breaths until he'd reached equilibrium with the throbbing in his shoulder.  Then a tune, a framework for the sense of calm he was trying to project and listen to.  It was still odd to hear his voice this way -- before he met Franco he'd never listened to himself without being critical.  There was a certain detachment necessary and he was thankful to know so many songs that he could sing by rote.  He closed his eyes and listened to his own singing, relaxing into the sound...

Another starburst of pain as something slammed into the left side of his chest.  He fell over, tipping left while he tried to find breath mid-hum and landing on the recently re-located joint.  And then there was nothing but panic, he had no breath, he could not sing, starry blackness absorbing his vision as the searing twins of chest and shoulder screamed for attention until they found unison.  He threw up.  

His closest guard grunted and pulled the spear-butt back with no expression.  Fighting not to inhale the sick, he managed to get on all three's -- his left arm would not support him -- and crawl away from stinking mess, curling up, waiting until he'd found balance with this new and heightened hurting.  Lying in a near-fetal position, he had nothing to do but pray and did so, entirely in his head, until sleep gave some shelter from the pain.

A hollow thump woke him but didn't leave him in a wave of agony.  He listened; nothing but the rumbling language of the giants and the sound of heavy, bare feet receding across stone.  Then it was quiet although he could hear the mouth-breathing of some guards.  He weighed options; if he rolled left onto his back, he'd hurt.  If he stayed curled up, they'd poke at him again.  If he tried to stand he'd fall.  That left more crawling.  He pulled in the limbs that were able to respond and rolled so he was facing the rock floor, pushing up and leaning back on his knees.  Under the motion's fresh application of pain, a tense liquid gurgle ran through his lower abdomen.  Stars and song!  Not now!  NOT NOW!

There was a new guard, and beside his freshly aired breakfast, a slop bowl or what passed for one to a giant.  It was nearly large enough for him to bathe in.  The smell of the clay was indescribable -- this was not a water bowl, and he knew what he was to use it for, and needed to, but both guards were watching him and he was suddenly and inexplicably shy.  The unrelenting gurgling was about to decide for him and he put his right arm out and shuffled forward on his knees, inching the makeshift privy behind a large rock.  It wasn't perfect cover but at least they'd only see his upper half.  

After sacrificing a part of a silk undershirt in the name of hygiene and a little more to clean up his sick, he packed  -- with comedic slowness, stiff and one-armed -- his cloak, coat, hood and gloves.  No point in getting them filthy.  He'd already noted a scarcity of water.  The guards continued to watch him as he folded and tucked, moving this or that around.  He brushed Bella's pebbled leather case and pushed her deeper into a cocoon of spare clothing.  She would not see the dim, lichen-lit room; too risky.  He found a pocket with only an old spare journal, removing it to stuff in the hood and gloves, and a sheaf of papers slipped from the journal's pages.  A letter drifted out.  He held it an inch from his face and squinted; he was not adjusted to the perpetual dimness.  His handwriting, addressed to his mother, dated Jular 1464.  A letter never sent.  He rimmed the parchment in light from a whisper-sung cantrip and read.


To:
Margaret Reid
Reid Pottery
Potter's Lane
Obo District
Huangjin
Tilmar

Dearest First Muse

I write because I wish to account for events I've recently been involved in and what better way than to send you a note?  I sit in an inn room in Dalanthar, a town in northern Dregar.  To my right, silent and worrisome, is a dark-skinned boy of about ten whose name I do not yet know.

How I ended up here is a story and so settle back in your favorite chair and I will tell.  I was traveling this way, knowing there to be a settlement of bandits with far-reaching swords that occasionally terrorize the area, and ended instead in a small halfling town on the verge of throwing a festival.  Poor map or I didn't listen to directions, you may take your pick.  Traveling this way were a number of people I know and so we joined to chat and possibly to stay and enjoy the festival as the villagers were quite friendly.  

It did not take us long to realize that these kind Prunillian folk were ailing from something, however -- the food was barely edible and there was precious little of it.  They used everything, no matter how rotten.  The livestock was underfed, the crops stunted...all with no explanation.  Symphony was in fits at the condition of the food and sent Razeriem and some others back to the next nearest town to gather provisions while the rest of us poked around and asked questions.

From what we were able to find out, the village has been having problems with their food supply for decades and began this "Flower" festival in order to send out one young lady as the "Flower", a delegate of sorts who leaves the village to discover the best ways to grow crops and returns to share her findings.

Imagine my shock when I found out that not one of these ladies had yet to come back.  Not one in fifty years or more.  The term "stinks on ice" comes to mind.  Imagine also when we found out that the village "elder" had arrived not long before this sudden downturn in fortunes...

Upon Razeriem et.al. returning with the food the villagers threw themselves into preparation.  I am delighted to say the wine here is excellent and I've been able to sample a blissful number of bottles.  I will be purchasing more than a few!

The pall of the town's overall health was evident still and we poked further, hitting on a plan to get Symphony voted the "Flower" so we could follow her and see what was happening to them.  We also enjoyed the celebration, and it is with joy I report that my friend Emwonk has found, of all things, romance!  Ilsare was smiling on him that day and he's pledged to return to a Jez, who calls him her "little lightning bug" (an appellation that gives me a laugh every time I remember her sweet drawling voice saying it).  He's a happier halfling and I am happy for him.

Sadly our plan didn't go as planned and the Flower chosen was one of the natives.  In determining what to do next, I decided to sneak up to the "elders" house and have a listen, only to find Symphony had beaten me there and confronted the thing.  And thing I do mean -- it is some kind of lycanthropic shapeshifter, not the same as a druidic one or those stories you hear of creatures from the Pits who can meld to assume other visages.  Or maybe it was -- I have no idea really, it was the first time I'd encountered such a thing that had "werewolf" blood but the ability to mimic other's faces.  The change is slow and deeply disturbing and at one point it was stuck in an amalgam of Symphony's face and mine.  Not a pretty sight.

By now we were all frustrated and, may I bluntly say, ready to beat this thing to death.  It was most smug regarding its fate and let us know that "the others" would be coming soon -- it was with immense persuasion that we were able to determine that it was supposed to meet someone or someones.  To prevent retaliation on the village we evacuated them to a safer location nearby and others of us took the thing and tried to find those with whom it was supposed to meet.

 We found the "someones", and after failing to bluff them into surrendering we ended up on the defense and took them down, to be tied and delivered to the authorities.  Not that they seemed too concerned about this.  The mystery deepened just as we thought we'd finished the job with the discovery of a special mark on some papers that lead us to information about who and what they were; a slaving ring.  All those Halfling women, we thought, sold into slavery -- the shapeshifting thing was merely an opportunist, selling off his yearly prey for a handsome sum.

I wish, upon writing that, that it had been true.  Slavery is preferable to what we eventually found.

Some of us took the villagers back home after the capture of the slavers, others of us started to take the slavers to some form of justice -- and some of us wanted to do away with them right then and there, no trial necessary, but with Symphony and Daniel along that would have been difficult.  You can guess which camp I was in.

We ended up in Dalanthar and turned over our prisoners before heading in the direction of the slaver's hideout in the Rift, information obtained in our long trek to the city.  At this point we were still blissfully ignorant of what was ahead of us.  The fighting was difficult but we had a robust force and were able to both find and penetrate the caverns hiding the slaving group.  So far so good...until we came across a Pit fiend in the guise of a woman who tried to turn us away.  She didn't attack immediately until our refusal to leave forced her hand, and as we pressed on, things got more and more difficult and even horrific until we came to a room with pits of bodies  - I'm not sure I'm going to send this to you now, Mother.  I can't hide how gruesome it was and you won't thank me for having to read it.  But gruesome it was.  Some of the bodies were skeletons, others fairly fresh, most of them showing teeth marks and disjointing that indicated consumption.

There was no rhyme or reason to the races, ages, genders.  Just a jumble of remains...there is little hope that identities could be reconstructed with any accuracy from that mess.  Also found was a dagger and a book -- a ledger of the "slaves" brought in to feed...whatever it or they were.  We didn't find any one thing that might have been the feed-ee, but did find a number of winged things not unlike the woman (which I use for lack of a better term).  I'm sorry to report that in trying to defend a downed friend against one of those things, my soul slipped a little further away.  I will never get used to that feeling.

Oh, and I found a signet ring on the winged Pit fiend woman, that I kind of forgot to mention to anyone that I took.  It's not magical but the symbol could prove useful to know.  The ledger-book of sacrifices is in my hands now as well; perhaps some peace can be restored to those who lost loved ones, someday.

After all of this action, highly condensed you understand; there was a lot of fighting and we spent days wandering those stone catacombs; it was recalled that there were behind us a set of double doors that had not been opened.  I was late to get there, recovering from the shaking in my soul, and when I arrived found many in our party helping survivors.  Bless Ilsare, someone lived through this.  They were in shock and only by combined and strident efforts were we able to get them to move out of the caves.  We took them back to Dalanthar that they could seek help returning to their homes; but one, this boy, was so lost, Mother, and so alone, I offered to take charge of him that he would not end up shuffled around until he landed in an orphanage.  You know how I am with children, even though I have not been blessed with any.  That I know of.

He hasn't spoken since I led him to the room I'm renting.  He moves and eats like he's dead, barely looking at and tasting his food; he does not laugh or even follow me with his eyes.  He's a puppet and my heart breaks.  I will do everything I can to return him to his home and I intend to start looking for his family tomorrow morning.

With all that off my chest, and a child I must attend to -- I remain

Your loving son


Andrew


The stack of papers was mostly in order; pictures, notes, beginnings of letters.  More notes.  Quotes from the boy, ideas on how to help him progress.  Drawings both he and the child had done.  He forgot the worst of his pains as he skimmed, his mind drifting to the last time he'd seen Jed...memories tugged him back to his notes and sketches and he slid back until he could lean on the curve of the wall, with a quick glace up.  His guards were not interested in his little paper scraps and so he opened to the first page of the old journal and began to read.

//to be continued

[RollinsCat]

The child still will not talk, even as I tend his scrapes and bruises -- I'm out of my depth here but I can't abandon him.  Perhaps one of the others can shed some light?

I have no idea where to start.  A child that will not speak and a handful of emotionally ravaged, fearful, angry, shaking rescuees.  Only one responded to my questions about the boy and...Muse..."The 'lil whiner came in with a lass callin' herself his ma. Iffn' ya ask me they shoulda kilt him instead of her. That 'lil snot got us in all sorts of hurt 'cause he couldn't shut his yap."   How I avoided smashing his face in I don't know.  Except I have a pathetically weak punch and don't feel like listening to the ridicule.  Or having my butt handed to me in a fistfight.  A mother means family, hopefully nearby - too soon to ask the boy about that.

I have tried feeding him things children like, such as pie and cookies.  He eats with empty eyes and does not seem to taste.  I tried soothing talk, comforting -- he does not respond to touch.  I will try music next.

Thank you, Ilsare, there is someone home still.  I played some children's songs for him and the music caused him to sway gently from side to side.  I thought I might be hypnotizing him at first, but when I realized he was reacting -- it was like the world shifted a little.  Until a dish crashed in the tavern below and his eyes snapped open and his neck corded up.  He pressed his lips together like he was holding something back, a scream?  He sat there for the rest of the night until I picked him up and put him to bed and even then, he was a stiff doll.  Yet there is some hope, it was communication if barely.  Perhaps there is something I can do after all.  I am sick with anger that a child would be put through this.  I only wish I could go back to those caves and kill everything again.  

I've taken him for walks to inquire if anyone's seen him and nothing, no recognition.  It's frustrating; he follows me like a drugged puppy.  I catch the looks and fear someone is going to ask a lot of questions soon.  I don't want him to be taken and shoved into a convenient corner...

I think I found a relative, possibly the father, in a field in the outskirts of the city.  He almost approached me -- his skin is as dusky dark as the boy's and his hair as tightly curled.  I tried to speak to him and I saw the recognition in his eyes.  A pained softening, almost a tender look at the boy whom I took with me.  Then the man punched me.  It would have degenerated but the other field hands held him back and threatened me.  The child did not react well to the violence but I don't think he looked at the men.  We returned here -- I know the location and name of the relative, now.  I have no idea why Taorn, for that is the man's name,  tried to lay me out for returning his family but I intend to.  It is best the boy is returned, of this I am certain.  On the other hand, my jaw still aches.

I have a sitter -- the barkeep's sister - and a plan.  Tomorrow I will disguise myself and head to the village past those fields to flirt with the local ladies.  I wonder if it's possible Taorn sold his own family to the slavers?  I have to be sure the child is wanted before I try to put him back.

A long day.  A very, very long day.  It took a good hour to charm the washer-women into loosening their lips, which surprised me.  Gossips around Port Hempstead and Leringard are much easier to convince.  But when I asked them about slavers -- let me see if I can remember..."Any from these parts!  Hells no boy!  Any slavers be hidin' 'round here an' it'd be the last place they be hidin'...'cause we be buryin' 'em deep.  An' keep yer yap shut if ya know whuts good fer ya on slavers an' such.  Too many have lost a 'lil one or their kin ta the bas'ards.  Ol' Taorn there lost both his wife an' boy ta 'em.  Since yesterday he's been swearin' he saw his boy plain as day...the heat does funny thing's ta a man's mind when he's already grievin'.  Now you run along an' go help those fellas get the wheat in 'fore they don't take to kindly to you flirtin' with the womenfolk."  Most of the responses were variations on that.  It seems Taorn mourns his family and is in fact the father of the child so this is good.  I spent the rest of the day with the men -- with a disguise, and they didn't mind an extra pair of hands.  By all the Gods in Layonara's heavens I am tired.  Bone tired, I'm shaking as I hold the pen.  First the hanging around talking to the women -- gossiping is hard on the knees -- then breaking my back threshing and bundling wheat...I can't write anymore.  I have to sleep -- have to go back tomorrow and do it all again...

The child is well-taken care of when I return at night.  I hate to leave him but I've seen Taorn watching me as we work, so my disguise has failed on him.  But he hasn't punched me again.  I never want to see, smell, or touch wheat again.

He approached me today.   "Mis'er I ain't knowin' or carin' who ya be or where ya came frum, but iffn' ya keep showin' off my boy ta git me riled, I'll throttle ya good wit my own hands."  What does one say to that?  Does he think I'm here just to taunt him?  I saw the glint in his eye and he raised a meaty fist to me.  "Jed wus takun frum me an' nuttin' I tried got him back, sos iffn' ya keep tauntin' me...jus lettin' ya knows I ain't got nuttin' left ta lose. My boy an' wife were takin', an' nows yus come rubbin' my nose in it that yus got him an' I don't. Iffn' ya hurt my boy...."  He almost cried after saying that.  My last reservations were gone then -- there was no way he was faking that emotion.  I told him I was there to return the boy, not to hurt anyone.  I tried to explain that I could not just dump the child with uncaring authorities who would probably throw him in an orphanage like their rulebook says -- I had to try and put him back where he belonged.  I told him then about the mother, that she was not among the survivors, and about finding the slaving ring, and that all I bloody wanted to do was get the boy home without getting hit again!  His response..."Iffn' what ya say is true an' ya want Jed back wit' his fam'ly. Then leave him and get yerself gone, Mis'er. An' iffn' I finds out ya hurt him, ain't no place ya can hide. Jus' bring him here ta the field and get yerself gone."  Except Jed is hurt, and does not speak, and resembles in no way, I'm sure, the child that was kidnapped.  Now what do I do?

Something landed by his feet.  A snake - he tried to jump back but the rock wall refused to part and let him through and his shoulder began to ache again - he pushed at it with his feet, praying it would not bite -

His giant guard laughed, a basso rumbling of genuine amusement.  The snake did not move.  After his heartbeat came back to something under a gallop, he set the journal aside and poked at the serpent.  It did not twitch - it had no head, in fact, and the neck was split to remove the venom sacs.  A dead desert viper, what the hells was he supposed to...

...oh.  Dinner.  His stomach turned and he did a quick rations assessment before moving the dead snake carefully aside and picking up his journal and notes again, while the giant's chuckles echoed in the soaring stone cavern...