Keildrithe:
Kajetan, as you (and anyone else who is heading there with you) enter the dormitory and approach your room to pack, you hear the low murmur of voices coming from Pharris’s cell through the partly ajar door.
Laithe is satisfied with the Abbott's response about the well and the inquisition's need to know about it.
As Kajetan departs from the room he moves to follow. "We should go and make preparations for leaving. It may also be prudent to have someone watch the road, to provide forewarning should the inquisition turn up sooner than expected. Would you be able task one of the monks with this?"
After leaving the room, he hurries to catch up with Kajetan, and notices the talk coming from Pharris' room when they arrive back at the cells.
"Everything ok?" he inquires softly, gently knocking on the door as he does so, but not opening it immediately.
Moth:
Keildrithe rises, takes a few steps back, then slumps down against the wall beside the door. He pulls his knees up and buries his face in his hands. "I've made a fool of myself," he murmurs.
After a few moments of utter and uncomfortable silence, he says, coldly: "Fine. You have made up your mind. I wish you well, Pharris."
At that moment, Laithe knocks at the door.
The bard gets up abruptly, and without looking at Pharris, he yanks the door abruptly.
"Everything ok?" he inquires softly, gently knocking on the door as he does so, but not opening it immediately.
An ashen and sunken-eyed Keildrithe yanks the door open and stares coldly at Laithe. "Everything's fine... just fine..." grumbles the bard as he shoulders past the other Karand, striding angrily towards his own cell.
He promptly stuffs his belongings in his pack, then runs out of the dormitory.
Kajetan looks on uncomfortably, unsure what has gone on, but worried that it may spell trouble for the party. He stands there looking awkward waiting for a few seconds before he ducks into his cell to start packing.
Nicholai is the last to leave the Abbott's room, staying behind to offer one last word of gratitude for the information on Stephan. He shakes the Abbott's hand firmly and warmly, then looks almost embarrassed.
"We, really should go get ready." He mumbles as he makes a hasty exit and follows the others.
He enters the dorm hallway in time to see Keildrithe's door shut loudly behind him. He pauses, giving Laithe a raised eyebrow that asks volumes. A glance at Pharris' still opened door answers a lot of them. But before he can ask the Karand what happened, Keildrithe reemerges with his pack and storms down the hallway brushing past Nicholai and Laithe alike.
Clearing his throat, Nicholai raps on Pharris' open doorframe.
"Pharris? We are preparing to leave. Ah. It looks as if you are almost ready." He says conversationally as he takes in Pharris' room and her general state. He leans casually against the doorframe, not wanting to intrude upon the usually private elf maid, but making it clear that he is concerned.
"Pharris. What's the matter?" He asks softly.
Alton gathers together his things and moves back into the corridor hefting his heavy pack with a grunt. Feeling somewhat awkward in the obviously unhappy scene before him, he makes his leave, informing Laithe that he will head up to the walls and keep an extra pair of eyes on the lookout for unwanted visitors.
Alton finds his way to the top of the wall overlooking the approach that the group arrived by, and starts to keep watch
Pharris looks up at Laithe and Nicolai, her face paler than normal, and her eyes wet and red.
“I’m leaving,” she mumbles, then looks back at both men earnestly. “I mean, I have to go home. Don’t try to talk me out of it, don’t try to make me feel guilty, don’t say you’re coming with me. I can’t ...” She breaks off and resumes packing.
Understanding at Keildrithe's abrupt departure floods in as Pharris explains her decision. He glances quickly at the recently arrived Nicolai, wondering how the dandy would take the news. Realising he should probably give the two some room to speak, and wanting to make sure his countryman was ok and not about to do something rash, he says briefly,
"I will not to prevent your leaving, but I will miss you sorely. Be safe Pharris; I hope to cross paths with you again some day. My Ehlonna look out for you."
He moves over and gives the elf maiden a kiss on the cheek, before backing out of the room. He wastes little time grabbing his meagre belongings and hurrying after Keildrithe, looking to find which way he headed after leaving the dorm.
Pharris looks entirely relieved at Laithe’s reaction. “Thankyou for understanding Laithe,” she says softly, and gives the druid a hug, returns his kiss on the check, then turns away, wiping away a tear.
Moth:
Keildrithe rushes out of the monastery grounds as fast as he can, goes back the way the party came when they first reached the monastery, and runs as far as his lungs and legs will let him through the snow... Where he goes, really does not matter... He just feels the need to run... run... run... run... and once he reaches the point of exhaustion (or Laithe reaches him, whichever occurs first), he falls on hands and knees in the snow...
Alton, as you stand watch at the wall, you see Keildrithe walk out of the dormitory, then begin running, across the snowy ground, out the main gate and down the path that leads up to the monastery.
Laithe, heading back outside, you see no sign of Keildrithe ... but you do see his footprints in the snow, spaced far apart as if he was running, heading towards the main gates.
Alarmed at his friends reaction, Alton gathers his things and quickly heads after Keildrithe. Poor bastard. Still, don't think its wise to be alone out there...
Pharris looks up at Laithe and Nicolai, her face paler than normal, and her eyes wet and red.
“I’m leaving,” she mumbles, then looks back at both men earnestly. “I mean, I have to go home. Don’t try to talk me out of it, don’t try to make me feel guilty, don’t say you’re coming with me. I can’t ...” She breaks off and resumes packing.
To say that Nicholai is shocked is something of an understatement. However Laithe's gentle response gives him time to recover. Sort of. He nods to the druid as Laithe swiftly leaves to follow Keildrithe. He watches Pharris shove her few belongings into her pack blindly for a few moments, gathering his own thoughts. When he does speak, it is slowly and softly, as if from far away.
"My dear lady, Obviously if you feel that you must leave, then that is what you must do. I will not try to talk you out of it, I would never try to make you feel guilty, and I'm fairly certain that I couldn't stop you even if I were foolish enough to try." He murmurs wryly.
A part of him wonders if she will notice which plea he left out of his response.
Nicholai slowly steps across the small cell til he stands directly behind Pharris. He starts to reach for her shoulder, but stops himself before actually touching her. He bites his bottom lip, as if struggling against something that he normally has no trouble with. Seeing Pharris' hand blindly searching for something on the cot to pack that does not exist, He seems to reach a decision. He gently catches her hand in his own, and slowly raises it up. He bows his head over it and gently kisses it, his lips not actually touching her knuckles. Looking into Pharris' eyes, he slowly steps back, allowing her hand to slide from his.
"My dear Pharris. 'Song of Light and Laughter'. Thank you for the pleasure of your company these past few weeks. They have been all too brief. You are by far the most vivacious and, living person I have ever had the pleasure to meet. Your joy of life and the light of your living it shall burn forever in my memory. Home, or wherever you go, shall be quite lucky to have you." He says with a charming and sincere smile.
"I confess I am saddened by the thought of your leaving. But if you must go, please accept my best wishes for a safe journey, and a long, healthy and happy life. I only hope that we meet again someday. Adieu, Cympharrissong."
Nicholai slowly steps back from Pharris, and gives her a low, slow courtly bow. His small smile is warm, but does not quite reach his haunted eyes. He turns and glides from the tiny room, noiselessly shutting the cell door behind him.
In the hallway he pauses, straightens his neck, and glides the few steps to his own cell, which he immediately enters and closes the door.
Inside, Nicholai slowly, ever so slowly, steps to his cot and sinks onto it. Sitting there, he steeples his fingers in front of his mouth and stares off into nothing thoughtfully. If Wij'kan's faint cry is heard, it has no visible effect.
A short time later Nicholai exits his room. Gone is the borrowed brown robe, left folded neatly atop the freshly made cot. Instead he wears his usual traveling clothes, complete with ascot and properly fluffed ruffles. He closes the cell door softly but firmly, as if closing the door on a chapter of his life. Swinging his pack onto a shoulder he snatches up his skull-headed 'walking stick' and turns to go. There is the barest of pauses as he glances at Pharris' door, and then he is off.
During the funeral, and the planning and the brief travel they manage to make that day, Nicholai seems fine. But there is something, off. Something even the terror of the day and the funerals cannot account for. His smiles are too bright, his quips too brief, his sadness too silent. His every motion planned, precise, practiced. The original dandy is back. Complete with the wall that he had not even realized he had been tearing down.
Soon, the companions hear a mournful ode ringing through the snow-shrouded valley that falls away beneath the monastery... Laithe hears the ode before he finds his friend on hands and knees in the snow at the edge of a bluff, head down and wisps of brown hair drooping before his eyes...
There's a place that she goes given time
Shadows come
And they come down hard
So I try to relieve what she sees
Still she goes
And she goes so far
I'm looking everywhere
I'll never find her there
When she changes it comes from within
Nothing less
Something more shall be
So I search for her soul in the night
But this butterfly,
She flies away from me
I'm looking everywhere
I'll never find her there
She's looking back at me
And now she wants to make me see
I need to find a way
Just need to find a way
Say what you want but you can't break free
Say what you will but you won't change me
Say what you want but it all takes time
My love will know no end
How I miss my beautiful friend
The bard remains silent and motionless for several moments, oblivious to the cold, his heart falling with the snow. After a long pause, he pulls his beldach from his pack, and, still on his knees, launches into another ode while beating an urgent rhythm on the drum...
Oh, I hear the winds
I see the fire
I feel the flame
It doesn't change
All the faces I want to blame
For the spaces in between the shame I'm feeling...
The Kingdom's calling
The Kingdom's calling you
My faithful friend
My precious angel
Can't you hear me at all
Because the winds of change will blow again
And when that causeway ends
Will you hear it calling you
The Kingdom's calling you
I'll be calling you...
Episode 5
The Beast Within
The funeral for the dead monks – including Abel – and Anastasia was intensely sad, but beautiful in its own way, with the late afternoon sun streaming through the west facing stained glass windows of the church, bathing the interior is a golden glow, and the monks singing their prayers.
Pharris did not stay, saying a quiet goodbye to everyone, looking sadly in the direction that Keildrithe had run, then striking out, back towards the gully with the stream where the strange watery girl had been encountered a few days prior.
After departing the monastery, the group made camp a few miles along the trail that Brother Anselm had indicated led to the cabin where Stefan was to be found. The cold night passed uneventfully, and the next day the adventurers continue to wind their way north through the high, rocky hills, the shining sun doing little to melt the snow that covers the ground.
It had taken considerable effort by Laithe to convince Keildrithe to not abandon his companions. Broken hearted, the bard had trouble seeing beyond his pain. All he wanted to do was run away, and crawl inside a hole in the snow... and to lay there until Lady Ice herself claimed him...
He was just as tired as Pharris was of their flight from the Inquisition, of the evil in the world. Despite their small victories, the greater war seemed unwinnable, their efforts futile...
But eventually, Laithe won, and Keildrithe followed... for the time being...
A long-faced Keildrithe trudges through the snow alone, several paces behind the party, playing shepherd and rearguard for the shorter and less physically strong members of the party while he keeps humming sad melodies to himself.
The bard sighs heavily time and time again... and shivers uncontrollably between sighs. Thoughts swirl constantly. One moment, he wallows in regret, the next clouds his mind with anger and the need to blame, and then with romantic delusions.
How could she just leave me like that... How could she play me like that?... Maybe she'll change her mind... I can't give up... She's bound to come around... It isn't over... Maybe if I... I need to send her an apology...
He wants to cry, but tears won't come.
Sometimes, wiser reflections take root...
Grandfather would be ashamed that I would give up so easily on my friends, on the fight against the Inquisition... and even more ashamed of the way I treated Pharris... What I did was unworthy of a hedilye... I made a fool of myself...
Yet ultimately, Keildrithe's mind is too preoccupied for him to apply the little bit of wilderness lore that Laithe taught him during their travels thus far...
Nicholai follows Laithe obligingly through the drifts of snow. He trudges alongside Kajetan, intending on keeping the young wizard company. But it is a poor traveling companion Nicholai makes as he seems distracted, and continuously looks around, as if looking for something. Or someone. The usually chipper dandy seems downright grim, only coming close to smiling when looking up at Wij'Kan circling overhead.
Alton trudges along with the others, head down, following mutely behind Laithe. Lost in his own thoughts he barely registers where they are going, trusting in the druid to lead the group safely. He sometimes casts looks back at Nicholai and Keildrithe, silently cursing Pharris for leaving the group in such a despondent state. Selfish thing to do… and now we have one less to fight against the mounting odds against us. Alton’s anger is hard to hold onto, and he can’t hold onto his ill feelings towards the elf maiden for long, but still can’t shake the depressed feeling that has settled over the troupe.
Laithe's usual elation at being back on the road again, in the wilderness, is tempered by the mood of his friends. He is at a loss with how to assist Nicolai, and quietly asks Alton and Kajetan to do what they can for him while on the road.
For his kinsman, he attempts to use their common love of nature to lend him some respite from his pain. When they start out on the road, he heads to the front but calls Keildrithe up with him, pointing out the beauties of the winter landscape, spying winter foxes and hares darting across the ground, asking his advice on how to best negitate a particularly slippery section of ice.
When they stop to rest on a rocky outcrop, waiting for the others to catch up, he reaches over and rests a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder. He says nothing, as the cold winter's wind redden's their cheaks, but lends what strength he can.
As they walk along, he picks some winter berries from a bush and whispers a prayer over them, embuing them with strength and handing them out to the party as they walk to keep their strength up.
That night, around the campfire, he chooses a suitable chunk of wood and sets to work with his knife, whittling it slowly and carefully into shape.
Kajetan trudges alongside the others in silence, his hood pulled up and a scarf wrapped around most of his face. He curses under his breath several times as he stumbles where the others walk comfortably fully aware that if it was not for Alton and his short legs, it would be Kajetan that was slowing them down.
He worries about his companions moods, but lacks the social skills to comfort or sooth them. His mind keeps drifting back to Pharris and her sudden departure and he curses softly to snap himself out of it.
Perception 11
Survival 11
The trail winds its way through the snow covered high hills, through wide valleys, along broad hillsides and above narrow, treacherous ravines. From time to time other trails cross the one you follow, either heading down towards the lowlands that you catch occasional glimpses of to the east, or deeper into the hills to the west. There are sporadic glimpses of human habitation – glimpses of villages in the lowlands, thin columns of woodsmoke rising here and there amongst the hills marking thorpes or isolated homesteads.
As the day progresses, Laithe notices signs of recent tracks in the snow – apparently humanoid tracks, but seemingly far bigger. The tracks lead from one of the western side trails and then head north – the direction you are going. Laithe warns everyone to be alert and the group continues.
An hour or so later, as the trail tops a crest and begins to wind down a gentle slope on the other side, Nicolai receives an empathic burst, a warning of danger from Wijk’An, only a few seconds ahead of himself spotting the danger – two very tall, burly figures emerging from the cover of a rocky outcropping about a hundred and fifty feet ahead, coming in your direction.
Each of the two figures is roughly human-like in form and proportion, but stands some nine or ten feet tall – perhaps taller if not for their somewhat hunched postures. Both have prominent noses, jutting brows and wide, toothsome mouths, their skin covered in grime and tufts of course hair. One of the giants is clad in layers of poorly cured furs and hides, has a cow’s skull hanging on its chest and carries part of a tree trunk – complete with roots – as a club. Its companion wears hides as well, but they are criss-crossed and slung with yards of heavy iron chains. Lengths of chains hang from the monsters belt and drag behind it in the snow, the ends of some of the chains adorned with human skulls. In one hand it holds a length of chain with a crude flanged weight at the end of it. The two figures drag some kind of sled behind them. At the moment Nicolai and some of the others spot them, they do not appear to have noticed the group, but it is only a matter of seconds before they do.
Nicholai starts at the mental screech of warning. His eyes growing large at the sight of the two giantkin heading towards them. Without hesitation he stretches out his hand and hastily intones a few words. The air begins to dampen around the group, the chill suddenly taking on a bite as the dampness soaks the exposed bits. In moments the fog rolls out from around them, hiding the group from sight.
"I'm not certain, but they looked decidedly, unfriendly?" He murmurs to his companions. He stretches out to touch Kajetan, barely visible in the magical summoned fog.
"Let's at least get out of their immediate path?"
Alton is alerted to the approaching menace just as the fog cloud descends on the group. Cursing himself for the negligence his bad mood has caused, he darts to the upper side of the trail, hoping the fog and sparse cover will provide a good hiding spot.
"Oh no," murmurs Keildrithe. "Please Lady Ehlonna, let the brutes not see us." At that very moment, Nicolai conjures a fog cloud from thin air. Despite his better judgement, the bard's instinct is stand within the fog and to cast a spell.
"Stay out of sight and hold your weapons for now," says the Karand to his companions. "I know some magic that will enable me to speak their language... and the gods willing, I might be able to put them in a trance, as well."
He begins to softly the chant the words of his spell...
Keildrithe urges the others to take cover, out of sight... and to prepare to ambush the giants, should his hedilye mind tricks fail to work on them.
From what you have heard, true hill giants are far bulkier and more muscular than these brutes are. You think these might be ogres.
Laithe moves of the path, seeking cover amongst the limited vegitation along with the rest of the group
Upon spying the approaching brutes, Laithe ducks behind a stunted tree, trying to stay out of sight.
Nicolai quickly casts a spell, and an unnatural bank of fog billows up around the group, hiding them from view ... however the brisk winter breeze nips at the edges of the cloud, and it seems clear that in less than a minute the fog will have been blown away.
Under the cover of the fog, Keildrithe casts a spell that should allow him to understand and talk to the giants.
The ogres stand stupidly staring at the fog cloud, scratching their heads.
Still shrouded by the fog, Keildrithe begins to recite an ode in Atuscan, hoping the mournful melody will both attract and mollify the giants.
Here I stand,
Alone in the dark
The snow
Falls down
On the cobbles in the cold
All my life
I've been waiting
For a moment
It never came
Maybe never will
Ah,sometimes I don't know
Those days are gone
Now I hide where I just can't say
I'm still there
Watching your tears
As they fall to the ground
You, you're walking away
You couldn't stay
You need a change of heart
You, you're walking away
You couldn't stay
You need a change of heart
...
Surprise Round
Kajetan shudders as a cold feeling runs down his spine and a premonition of danger flares in his mind. He tenses, momentarily catching sight of the giants before his view is obscured by the fog. Nicolai's touch is enough of a sign and he moves slowly off the side of the trail, hoping that the dark shape that looms ahead in the fog is a boulder and not a giant.
Round 1
Kajetan peers back, only just able to see his companions despite the short distance he has moved.
Will: +4(class) +1(wis) = +5
For a few precious seconds he freezes as Keildrithe's voice invades his mind, holding him in place, but another part of his mind screams, this is not for you, and he continues his search for cover.
Kajetan then calls on the powers of necromancy, pricking his finger with a pin and painting a cross of blood on his face. Immediately his life force is bolstered by the touch. Nearby, a small hardy winter weed pokes through the snow, already battered and frozen by the cold weather, a miracle of nature surviving the bleakest of locations. The weed crumbles to dust as the spell is cast, Kajetan lets a small grin cross his lips at the powers at his command.
As Laithe takes cover in the snow and listens to Keildrithe beginning his ode, he takes some of his own precautions, preparing to defend his countryman with his life should the need arise.
'Ehlonna, the mighty oaks of your forests have withstood the fury of storms across the ages. Lend me their strength to help me weather this coming storm.'
As Keildrithe begins his ode, Nicholai carefully begins moving across the rocky ground, following Kajetan.
As he pauses, he feels for his link to Wij'kan that burned so brightly just moments ago.
'Watch. Warn. Stay high.' He mentally calls to his companion. Even in the unexpectedly tense situation, his thoughts are tinged with warmth towards his familiar.
From his position of cover, Laithe casts a protective spell on himself, as does Kajetan.
Alton dashes for cover himself. Nicolai moves carefully through the fog to stand near Kajetan, who has found a hiding place just outside the fog cloud, crouched down behind a high drift of snow.
Keildrithe remains in the fog cloud, reciting a Karandic ode, his magic hopefully allowing the words to be translated in the ears of the giants.