Duboris's "A Dirge For Everything"

Game Master Duboris

The next days pass with a mixture of Meticulous craftsmanship, bitter thoughts, and a myriad of new emotions concerning your present situations.

Hana has disappeared entirely, and the lot of you have not even managed to see her around the nexus at all, and boy, did you look. Rumors abound that she's returned to Argosal, the chilling the pass. Barring that, none of you can be sure.

The lot of you recollect yourselves at the pre-ordained time in the room with Arcus, Marco, and Finelia, all of whom are more than happy to see you all still functioning. Their faces turn grim almost as soon as they do, however, as in the far corner, Mephisto walks out, accompanied by the luscious Oswald. Neither of them say anything as Arcus starts to hand out his things to the various number of you.

Hana has apparently came and gotten her things much earlier than anticipated, and Tera did so as well.

An eerie quiet fills the room as the lot of you just sort of look at each other in some sort of awkward gait, almost unsure of what to mention in that blasted woman's presence.

Not even the appearance of the two unsavory characters can distract Bromen as Arcus hands him the finely crafted armor and weapons. The axes are works of art, as beautiful as they are deadly. Arcus has crafted them in a style similar to the longaxe so they look as if they were made to go together.

Then Arcus hands over the golden breastplate with a toothy grin and a glint in his eye. "Like I told ye, wuz a bit gener's since 'ye brought back me' forge." Bromen takes the armor slowly. This was the piece that made him pause: his father had crafted the armor he currently wore, and while Aralak was not in the same league as a legendary smith like Arcus the armor had sentimental value to it.

All fears flew away and the dwarven warrior examines the gift more closely. It is clearly superior in both function and form, but the filigree rune design includes both Arcus's sigil as well as the mark of Bromen's father. Bromen is taken aback by the honor Arcus has done with this homage to the clan.

His eyes widen further as he notices that interwoven into the design are subtle hints of a third runemark. The mark of the Spellbane Prophesy.

Bromen puts a hand to his chest and gives a slight bow. "Ye honor me, Forgemaster. I will do ye proud with the acts I do with 'em" He moves to the side so the others can receive their items as well, still clutching the armor as his rough stubby fingers absently rub the sigil of Aralak of clan Vrektel.

Even after spending much of his acquired free time learning as much as he could about Lichdom, Bannon's efforts were in vain as his fears only increased. Though Marco had proved to be the best arcanist a fellow wizard could ask for, the Abjurer knew that the Lich needed to be put down...if at all it was a possibility.

”Argh, its frustrating knowing that a small bastion of humanity resides within the shadow of such great evil, how even now...I'm powerless to help...” It was the cooing of Cornelius that brought the Wizard back to reality who fluttered and found a place upon Bannon's shoulder. ”Dear friend, what will I be without you?” he said while gently stroking the familiar's snow white feathers.

Faced with the demoralizing realization that a Lich resides within Argosal, Bannon couldn't ignore the plight of those citizens who lived in proximity of such...destructive evil. While not impassioned like a crusader such as Tera Flinders or Orca, Bannon could atleast work towards ousting the undead tyrant...if there was a way. Either case, Mephisto's job offer of routing someone in league with a lich was a step.

Finding his place among the others, the Wizard surprised everyone by speaking aloud.

”Mephisto! What is it that must be done in order to route this so called ally of the Lich?”

As if like a pheonix rising from the ashes, Bannon's purpose resurfaced. His point was further driven home as Cornelius took flight within the chamber, soaring with its fluffy white wings.

Sorry gents. I had fallen off the face of this earth. If yall are still up for it, this Argosal job might be something cool and very dangerous for us. Who's game?

Sounds good to me!

Roman sits quietly, his belt heavy with the weight of newly crafted ammunition.
First was Ma, then Iulia, now that Hana gal... and the paladin too, I guess... women just don't stick around ol' Roman, i guess...

Argosal and the leech... that sound too complicated for Roman. He couldn't even begin to understand wath leechdom meant. He was bad, and he was powerful, and he was someone who knew about the myst. That's about all he needed to know.

You're dead, man. Granted, the folks at Sunday school were wrong and death ain't that different from life so far... but you're still dead. What do you have to lose?

"Yeah. let's get this over with. The dead against the dead, sounds like a victimless fight to me." he tries to grin, but it just doesn't come out.

Mephisto stands aloof with her gold-trimmed mask and grins a wide grin at the sudden eagerness to do her suggestion. Looking to Roman, she wryly states "Hm, yes. Victimless, I wonder? Should you mess this up, Argosal would likely hasten his advances on the village with the threat of a lack of bodies. Hmhm."

Snapping her hair back to Bannon, she stops a moment as she paces around him. At the southern end of the village is the ever-so-lovely crematory. If the bodies are disappearing from anywhere, it has to be there, no?" she says with a laugh. "My informants tell me there's an awful smell that permeates the air, even when the chimneys aren't stoaked..."

She starts to walk a bit, closer to Bromen. Looking to the lot of you, she cracks a bit of a serious tone, unusual, of course. "I wish to learn more of you, as well, so my most trusted will be leaving along with the 3 of you. I imagine you could use the assistance, no? Hmhm." she turns, facing Oswald, who takes a long-drawn-out step towards all of you. He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't seem to care about the majority of you.

"Do be nice." she states.

"Oswald? Can't we have...someone like Bagrin...or Orca?" thought the wizard. Putting on his best face, Bannon tried to be more amiable.

"Yes...Oswald is indeed your...trusted, but why the sudden display of kindness from one who hides behind a mask?" Remarked the Abjurer as Mephisto walked about the group.

While waiting for an answer, Bannon stroked the feathers of his companion, Cornelius while mustering a short statement in dwarven aimed at Bromen.

"Ahk no'tak err bauhn?"

- - - -

YES, A POST!!!

ninja'ed while I was editing!

Who said yer in charge, woman?

Bromen stands there silently for a moment. This is exactly what he had wanted to avoid - in the space of a few heartbeats they went from undecided about their next steps to being set on a path not of their choosing. And to have that path set by THIS woman, and to have her evil pet along for the ride, that did not sit well with the dwarf. Not one bit.

He gives the tall warrior another look, his gaze lingering on the man's scythe. Mebbe he's yer 'trusted', casty, but I don't trust 'im as far as I can throw 'im. Again the loss of Tera's departure hits him, and adding to that Hana's disappearance makes Bromen realize that they are without options: if Argosal was where they were headed, the remaining three of them were going to need the extra muscle.

A quick glance at both Roman and Bannon makes it clear that they are in agreement: regardless of the circumstances that put them on this path it IS the right path to take.

"Nemaz. Kāda izvēle mums ir??"

"These informants ye have....they gonna be of any help once we're there? Don't seem like a lot t'go on, t'be jumping into the fire like that."

And what's yer real purpose there, witch?