*Storold is still not very happy with the situation of the stones being closer to civilization. But having given up on straight up taking his frustrations with the acting commander out on said commander, he spends most of his time weaving protectings around the stones. Thereby hoping to minimize the threath they pose to Layonara as a whole and keeping them safe from outsiders trying to steal or manipulate them*
Unit Captain Vercilaas nods in approval as he watches Storold weave his enchantments around the stones. The containment barriers and wards he brings to life glow briefly before fading from the sight of those not trained in seeing and recognizing them. He leaves the room though without saying anything. Storold gets the impression that the Captain is still irritated over the heated discussions in the swamps.
The Lucindite Jason is in the room and informs Storold that he is going to start installing wards on the exterior walls of the monastery.
Mangus finds himself paying quick, close attention to Storold. His understanding of the wards that he is placing on the stones is distinctly limited by comparison yet one or two aspects of one or two of them almost seem vaguely familiar to him. Not enough to in any way truly comprehend them to be sure, but just enough for him to realize, that with specific training and focus he will someday be able to place such wards and have such wisdom.
He addresses Storold.
"Some day Er want's to learn yew prayers and prayers like dem. Some day... Er wants to be dat strong. Prove to me Gram Er turned out to be er good enough Orc. Good enough."
He looks directly at Storold.
"Et gonna defend dese stones Mr. Storold. Er gonna do deh best Er can. "
To himself he mumbles inaudibly and not comprehensively, "Unless ert all falls apart"
Vincent brings his horse to a halt as his way is momentarily blocked he gradually focusses attention suspiciously on the duo before remarking "Half Elves I'd expect. Long time since I have seen two half elves." He looks around the trees behind them, and back to the harmless pair. "Longer still since I have seen two half elves waving. Or were you perhaps drowning there, who can say ? No matter, I would have the road if you please!"
Foresta arrives at Jesom’s Hope somewhat later than the others having made her own way there after doing things druid. She contents herself with checking over the lifestyle of the monks and their garden areas while waiting for things to develop. Where she meets monks she warns them of impending imbalance to their ordered world. She appears neither specific or particularly worried on their behalf.
"Merely a greeting to a fellow traveller, sir," Connor says in polite reply. "This road belongs to all and no one. It is not mine to give or deny, but if you might spare a moment... You seem to be trying to put distance behind you. If you would, is there anything on the road south that might pose us a threat?"
Vincent seems to dramatically consider the land to the south, staring as if something might appear at any moment. "There is terrible danger everywhere for ..the unwary. Death stalks the dim and trusting. The road will take you careening through the darkest of dangers, into the ominous mysteries of petulant pitfiends, a veritable tempest of thrilling terror. It cannot necessarily be outrun. Indeed danger may come from a different direction. Some say true terror is the soft cold caress of a creatures wing. But I bear open my heart - perhaps these are merely the fears of a specialist, and nothing you should concern yourselves with. You should walk where you would. " He looks back from the still empty, and frankly rather unremarkable road to the south and turns to study the half elves once again, adding in a renewed and determined voice "I will be heading to the north, and Moraken's tower - whoever of us lives might revel in the fact that they chose the right direction!"
"Ah...well...." Connor responds with a nod. "We shall be cautious then, for if there is something on the road to bring fear to a specialist, it is possibly worth note. Farewell then on your journey north. Since you are destined there anyway, do please give my old colleague Moraken my regards. The name is Connor. Might I know your name, sir?"
"I Sir am Vincent Coste, be cautious if you will, or continue with your merrymaking and act according to your natures. But tell me, you say you know Moraken, then if so you will know he is a master of travel to the Pits. So am I of course! but I would consult with him. I have a need to travel. " He pauses reflecting on something and adds. "You half elves of all people must understand affairs of the heart cross races from time time, continents, allegiences, why not the very stars I ask you ?"
Connor spares a slow but brief glance at Anna for just a moment before his eyes return to Vincent. "Indeed, I do know this of Moraken," he replies. "It is quite common knowledge for those of this world who know his name. Though it may interest you, sir Vincent, that I know something Moraken does not."
Anna returns his look, her eyes relaying some silent message back to Connor. She turns a cool expression back to the traveler and begins to take in every inch of his demeanor, tells and that which cannot be seen by the average observer.
"Well I suppose we all know something Moraken doesn't - but please, enlighten me." Vincent quietly requests of Connor a little uncertainly.
Connor takes a step forward, his face and eyes focused on Vincent with an expression of curiosity and examination.
"Someone has written all over you," he says as his head tips slightly to the right.
"If you mean a bond and protection of supernatural strength of love even beyond life itself, then I may concur." He replies to Connor tilting his head to the left as he follows Connor's movement. "What kind of a man are you to question love this way?"
"Well..." replies Connor. "that certainly is a wonderful metaphor, and I would not be one to judge such a thing...though in truth I did refer to the play of strange, glowing runes about your skin. In such a case as they are one in the same, then I would ask you to entertain but one further question, and we may all be on our respective ways. Exactly how many Pits are you currently courting, sir?"
"I do not court a Pit, or Pits, I merely follow my heart, or the writing thereon you so aptly mention." He grimaces, mildly distressed at the apparent enormity of his words. "I cannot say how far it will take me or even how....so I cannot necessarily answer your question -why do you ask?" He looks at the two a little concerned and looking slightly like a trapped animal.
"Oh...No reason really..." Connor says with a shrug and a hint of a dismissive gesture. "except that you have strange writing all over your skin... and several Pits seem to be firmly attatching themselves to you, much like a fleet of boats held by the same anchor." There is a slight pause. "This just got a bit awkward, didn't it?"
Vincent clutches at his chest as he replies. "I feel the tapping at my heart, it guides me but others too, some visitors from the Pits perhaps, but for the love of such a rare and radient maiden I will not still my beating heart. From here I have endevoured to see into the darkness there - deep into the darkness peering, fearing, doubting even my own ability, doubting the truth that real love demands. It is as you say, by it's very nature, .....awkward. Merely this and nothing more!" There is a pause as he gathers his thoughts before he adds more dismissively. "But I have delayed you long enough I would be about my journey."
Five full squads of Rofirein knights stood at parade rest in the failing evening light outside the old stone walls of the monastery of Jesom’s Hope. Firelight from burning oil in a large brass urn reflected off their newly polished and cleaned armor. The urn was burnished to a bright gold color, and a large dragon was embossed on its side, its great body encircling the item. Unit Captain Vercilaas stood a few feet in front of the knights, his face solemn as he watched his friend’s father walk among the fallen before the ceremony began. Approximately five yards further were laid the bodies of 25 fallen knights of The Gold on wooden pyres, piles of tinder and dried wood branches stacked around each one. Wool blankets emblazoned with The Order’s compass were laid over the full length of their corpses.
The adventurers who had accompanied them from the swamps near Halin watched from the gate.
Protector Ognas Dreardan stopped at his son’s body. He placed a hand on the wool blanket covering Section Commander Dreardan and whispered, “I will miss you greatly my son. You have brought happiness to this old man and order to a land in need of the structure and guidance of our Lord Rofirein. You have served the people and your order with honor.” He then took his place near the burning urn, glanced at Ausir’s bright point in the evening sky, and gave a hand signal to proceed.
A bell was rung by a monk, its clear tone piercing the silence. Captain Vercilaas called his men to attention and a crashing sound echoed off of old stone as they did so in military unison. Protector Ognas Dreardan intoned in a firm and unwavering voice: “Lord Protector, we bid farewell to these knights who have fallen honorably in your service. They have given all there is to give. We now consign them to the protection of your embrace and the cleansing power of your fiery breath.”
The bell again rang and the name of a fallen knight was read by Protector Dreardan. The process continued until the name of each of the fallen was read. When the last name was read and the sound of the last ringing of the bell faded away, several monks carrying torches ignited the pyres holding the dead.
As Captain Vercilaas dismissed his men, a small meteor streaked through the sky and landed in a nearby clearing with a thudding sound. For some it was merely coincidence... but for the faithful it meant much more. Most headed off for bed or other duties. Protector Dreardan and Captain Vercilaas continued to watch the flames until they had consumed all there was to consume.
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Topic: End Game (Read 6806 times)
