The man leans forward, laying his hands upon the table. His eyes lock onto Zeldana's, unblinking. Allowing me to remain alive he cracks off in a mocking mimicry of Zeldana's voice. Not my body? he drums his fingers on the table once. In an equally mocking tone he says Oh, hey, Jorn. Im sorry, come claim your gold coin. he pauses a moment, and then looks at everyone in the room. Oh, seems to be that Jorn is unable to claim his treasure. To continue your analogy he snaps it would seem i am holding the coin and he isnt on this road.
he snorts loudly You know zel, youre a real c*nt! I would love to wish a horde of orcs to savage your body, but id hate for the orcs to have to put up with your presence and the filth youd spew. he spits on the floor, emphasizing his disdain and disgust of zeldana.
The man then looks at Loxley. I owe no one Nothing.. If anything, it is sheer dumb luck that brough me back.
You seek the guidance of Desna, and ponder the situation. it is truly a difficult situation. on the one hand, you have the desire to resurrect Jorn to life. on the other, this stranger inhabits his body. Does he have a right to this body? But if not, does anyone have a right to their own body?
The teachings of Desna are, well, ill prepared to handle this situation. You think about your eight scrolls, the holy text of Desna. You know them backwards and forwards. you can recite the scripture at will. and yet, they provide no help for in this situation....
except for one tenant.
Luck.
From the perspective of Desna, it is possible that this new man was indeed bestowed a boon from Desna in granting him luck to leave whatever demse held his soul and brought him back to life. Is it your place, or those in the group you have elected to join those weeks before, to deny this man his gift from Desna? Is it a gift from desna?
Perhaps a discussion with Father Zantus about this is in order....
or, perhaps, a visit to Magnimar to request guidance from other Desnarian Clerics.
The moment he called Zeldana a certain word he moved. No warning no words just a solid fist.
"You will keep a civil tongue or i will still it."
"Thank you Corrin, but there is no need for that." Zeldana simply stated as she offered her friend a small smile. She seemed unphased with the spewing of vulgarity from whomever this really was. "You only insult and jab because I have used your own logic against you and you do not like it. You have been told and notified of the coin's true owner, so far as even given the address of who the gold coin belongs to. Yet you would not return it even if it means getting a gold coin in return?" She pointed out, her duel color eyes narrowed in a mixture of confusion and disapproval. "You say I am a cunt, and this is because I thought if a way to keep you in that body, us get our friend back, and cause the least amount of suffering... for what?" She inquired. "Walk me through your thought process, what is so horrible, so terrible, that you are throwing a tantrum over this? The one who benefits the most out of this whole process is you! You get to keep living, when as you said if not fore sheer dumb luck, you would still be dead! You get to create a completely new life for yourself, a total blank slate, down to even choosing your own name. And the only thing requested is a finger... That might I remind you, can be healed"
Completely calm (maybe even bored?) Yeda half unsheathes her sword.
With an even plainer expression she asks So are we getting this finger or not?
She looks down at not-Jorn as Corrin has knocked him to the floor, asking
Are you drunk enough yet?
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Gunnar is still pondering in his thoughts when a sword is drawn. He raises his head with his eyes wide and says "Wait!" Breathing heavily, his mind races thinking of what to say. To buy time, he says "Before we go from being in the right to slicing someone who has done, so far, nothing wrong, there is..." He pauses to breathe a bit and to calm himself down.
"There are some matters to discuss. Matters that pertain to divine... discussion. I ask that we have an hour recess.", says the priest. He looks at the drunkard and says "I wish you no harm. But I do recommend you donate a finger. It will do wonders to buy the goodwill of your" he looks at all the others present and finishes "captors."
Not Jorn pushes himself up to his feet. He looks at corrin with his bloodshot eyes bulging Bit of a limp wrist you got, tree lover.
hearing Gunnar's exclamation of WAIT, he pauses his angry retort.
Oh now the priest is getting squeamish. he hurls his cup at the lot of you, and follows it up with the pitcher of wine. Screw all of you! Come on. do it, I dare you. he looks at Zeldana You want it? you do it, you half breed slut. he smiles a wicked smile mmmmmm yeah, you want this body dont you. you want to feel this he grabs at his groin you want this dont you?
It was almost instant, the look of realization that passed over Zeldana's face. "That is what this is about!" She declared in a chastising tone. "How did I not see that before? Could have saved us a problem from the start." She said, obviously speaking to herself.
"I want Jorn back. The flesh is not what mattered to me, the soul was. Who he was is what mattered. If I could grant him another's form to allow him to live again as you have been I would. But I realized just now that is the problem for you is it not? That we have thinking on how to return Jorn, as if you do not matter. The fact we want him back, means that we do not want you. That is how you are taking this, are you not?"
Crusk says, "You are crass. I don't want you, I don't want to mate with you! But I stand with my friends. If they can resurrect this Jorn, then so be it."
Loxley instinctively gripped the slender case hanging on her belt, just behind her sword. The new one with the arcane lock only she should be able to easily open.
Mentally, she gave Bandit a ‘look’ at the suggestion she had anything he would find snack-worthy in her hair.
’This hardly seems worth the trouble that would invoke.’
She countered, still not fully at ease with the revelation she had thrust upon her little more than a week ago.
It was strange that so many worlds have been turned upside down in so short a time. Strange… and sad.
Loxley had little time to dwell on this as ‘not Jorn’ chose that moment to become ‘ungentlemanly’.
She started to her feet but Corrin was quicker than her and had already struck the man before she was fully to her feet, a harsh word on her lips.
“Why you-“
But to her credit, Zeldana’s calm was seemingly undisturbed.
Resettlinging Bandit on her shoulder, Loxley stepped up and placed a hand on Corrin’s shoulder. She glared at ‘not Jorn’ with open disgust.
”You are being far kinder than I fear I could manage given your loss dear Zel. Perhaps it’s not a new body for Jorn we should be considering. Mayhaps a new form for this one, an ass may be more suiting. Thus leaving Jorn his original vessel whole and unharmed?”
She suggested only half joking.
”Or if we insist on letting him keep this one, perhaps we could cut off something else to grow a new vessel.”
The venom in her words made it clear just what Loxley was suggesting they could remove.
”Clearly he has no need for it as I would hardly think any woman would want to lay with someone who acts so childish.”
Loxley hesitates for a moment, her brow furrowing. She steps away from Corrin and approaches ‘not Jorn’, looking up to meet his eyes with her own narrowed gaze.
”As much as I like Zeldana, I would say the coin in the road analogy is not wholly correct. Jorn’s life was taken by violence.”
Loxley’s tone grows colder.
”I would compare it to finding a stolen purse. One taken by force. One you ‘claim’ to found by chance. A purse whose coins you would freely spend like unto a child at a fair. A purse, who when those that know the owner and ask it returned or compensated, you would throw a tantrum and claim: ‘Mine, mine, mine!’.”
Unconsciously the arcanist’s hand slid to the rod’s case.
”Continue your tantrum if you feel you must, but know that if we so wish to take from you, we could with little effort. So you would do well to not spit in the face of my friend’s kinder approach.”
Loxley pauses to watch ‘not Jorn’s face.
”Or don’t, and maybe we should see if you are lying to us. Perhaps you are attempting to conceal who you truly are from us and we should, for our own safety and for that of the town, see if we can not pry that information from you.”
Loxley doesn’t even realize she has opened the case, nor that her hand waits mere hairs widths from the handle. The overwhelming power of it calling silently to her in her anger.
He tried to calm himself and succeeded partially if only because Loxley put a calming hand on his shoulder and for Zel. He wasnt entirely sure if harming the body was the best option if they needed it. The man wasnt going to willingly give up a finger or toe or whatever peice they asked for.... so holding him down might be needed.... His eyes widened and his grin grew.. he focused on his connection to nature and he began to transfrom slowly into a very large and long reptillian form he coiled patiently his eyes locked on the form in front of him. 'Notjorn' his tongue sticking out momentarily to taste the dsmells in the air. He was now a very large sixed python.
"She is correct." Zeldana said with a simple cross of her arms. "Each person in our group has a way of getting what we're asking from you without your concent. Yet we have not done so by force. Is that not odd to you? Or do you find that a failure on our part?" She inquired, rather curious if he would answer her question. He hadn't done so for a single one yet, he just kept spewing insults. And she wondered, why was it all towards her? She figured it was mainly because she had been the one to suggest removing the finger. As he would make a comment to anyone who attacks him, like he had with Corrin and Gunnar, but compared to what he was throwing at herself it was rather tamed. Maybe it was just because he was not getting the reaction that he wanted from her?
But in truth, something Loxley said struck her. "That could also be it..." She muttered to herself. "I did take his word for it that he does not remember who he is, or where or when he was from." Zeldana stated as she tapped her chin trying to think if there was anything odd that he might have said that stood out. "Wait... if he does not remember who he was, or where he was from... how does he know the saying from Port Peril?" Zeldana mused aloud. "Port Peril is months from Sandpoint, past a massive storm, it is not common place for those who would know its inner workings to be here. Let alone for it to be common knowledge to simple people."
A loud knocking draws your attention to the leaders of Sandpoint.
I do believe that I Lady Deverin says with heavy emphasis am the only one in Sandpoint with the authority to take something without consent. she looks everyone in the eye, her gaze falling upon Zeldana last. And even that has limitations to emergencies and special situations. For the lot of you to suddenly think you hold this power.... she trails off, restrained anger upon her otherwise beautiful features. A blood vessel pulsates upon her deeply furrowed brow.
The two men, Titus Scarnetti and Belven Valdemar, look upon those within the room with cold looks....
All of you. Get out! Lady Deverin commands, standing up. She looks at Gunnar. You have one hour. she looks back at the rest of the group I suggest that lot of you curb your bloodlust, otherwise the only blood that'll be spilled is yours.
Anx, and you sir, she points at not jorn, please stay a moment
Crusk wonders what had made that outburst. Perhaps it was just, adventure in the extreme. Or maybe the group has adventures in mind. He looks at Lady Deverin -- get out. He decides not to press his luck, or his lunch, and leaves the room.
"Well, what next, Zel? Do you still want to resurrect Jorn? Is there another way we can?" Crusk asks. He turns to Loxley. "I am sorry, my lady. It seems that I can spin a tale about Jorn. But after he is brought back to us."
There was a ping in the room, almost like the sound of something cracking... no, not a sound, a feeling. Of something deep within ones being. The point of origin for all within the room, Zeldana Emraeal Luminita Dardlara Anca Nordlara Amaria. At some point within Lady Deverin's speech, she had raised her hand up to her lips and pierced her thumb with one of her canines teeth. Blood ran down her thumb, a brilliant deep scarlet compared to her dusky skin. Yet that action was likely not the source of the feeling... Was Zeldana's purple eye always so... cold? So void of any and all emotion? She turned her hand just enough for her to lick the blood from her lower palm and thumb before even allowing a single drop to spill off her flesh. "Bloodlust, an interesting choice of words." She stated in her calm tone. "Here I thought the act of trying to spill the least amount of blood was the opposite. Has the word changed meaning I wonder..." The diversion, the scapegoat, the broken wing act. She was drawing them in to get her friends out without damage any further. Her eyes moved from Lady Deverin, Titus, and Belven to a window. Her golden eye still shimmer with the warmth Zeldana had always been known for... yet that seemed to set a firm reminder, her soft smile had not been seen for what... two moons now? She had not laughed, not danced, nor had her shop been open for the same amount of time.
"The power never leaves." Zeldana stated almost remorsefully, as if the honest truth was a pain that hung in her throat, as she raised herself from upon the door. Then took three gliding steps forward never looking away from the window, though it was deeper into the room, it was obvious to any she did this to allow those of her party and those who had been called and told to leave to funnel out. She even motioned to each of the party to leave as she passed them. The action seemed in almost direct contrast to her current tone. Like she wanted them to leave before her in some way of ensuring their safety. "It is either used, or not." She continued as she was simply filling the time to allow others to leave before she did. All the while her tone was the same. Calm, collected, and... detached? It was only when she had passed her friends, and stood before the three that she looked at them again. Though her form was a perfect mix of her, as the not Jorn had put it, half-breed heritage, her hair and eyes formed two different pictures. The purple eye and pale white hair of her mother was cold and distant. A look not... ever seen on Zeldana before. She had always been a happy child from what anyone could or would remember. The golden eye and black hair of her father shined however. The look so many would say she was known for, the one that followed her joy and her kindness.
"Power is a tool, one of the greatest of them I would say if I was allowed to make a personal opinion known, but the most frail as well. Since it can only reside were one believes it to be. I guess it is in some ways, a lot like faith. Though there is some that cannot be taken back easily..." Zeldana said, her tone finally changing slightly in the fact there was some warmth that flowed in. "Give one power, and you will see what they have always wanted to do with it. I think that speaks louder than anything. Do you not? What one does with power?" Her voice gradually shifted as she spoke, from the calm cold of logic to the spark of warmth to almost a child like wonder of the very thought asking a question that she'd never get the answer to but was proud of asking. Maybe Zeldana was still there... But she did not wait for the threes answer, or anyone's answer. As she turned to follow the remaining members of her party out. While she made her way back to the exit she moved her hair over her shoulders, and there upon her back was her third tattoo. The pair of wings, one laden with angelic feathers, the other a demon leathered bat-like wing.
Loxley had stood up for her, Corrin and Yeda showed they would defend her, even Crusk made a statement against her bully. Gunner at the very least tried to get the man to agree to her plan.
Kendra... had rejected her. Her desire to do the least amount of harm. She wondered what this would lead to. Given Kendra's stumbling in the past that Zeldana was well aware of.
Titus and Belven, they were of hardly a note. What good is a Lord when he cannot make his intentions properly known? Chasing Loxley around like he had, instead of just starting with words? Yet he looked down on her for speaking plainly? Belven she had no firm stance on one way or the other.
But maybe people just did not actually care? After all people in power tend to cling to it with everything they have. In fear of losing it like it is a piece of themselves. But they lived before that no?
Crusk's words brought Zeldana out of her thoughts. "Why is it you inquire to me what to do next?" She asked in return. "Jorn cannot return without a body and a soul can only be called back to a body that was theirs. At least with the spell we plan to use." She stated. "I currently cannot offer any form of aid... I think I am going to go down to the sea shore for a bit. I will return before the hour is up."
The snake slowly and awkwardly looking changed forms and Corrin cracked his neck slowly sliding the mask up. He let his gaze fall upon the lords especially the scarnetti. His gaze narrowed. he waited to Zel had her say and just merely added...
"Thanks for the support next time trouble happens find new heros."
He stepped out eager to be away from the room and those arrogant humans. Short sighted fools.
"Some new home... cant even do whats right. Huma...."
He began to Dewdrop making a chagrinned face. He didnt mean that really he knew some pretty decent humans, his sister, Ol Daven, Jarl and the rest of the Purrens, his friends and party members of course.
"Shall we go se about Mar'du Yeda? a walk will clear Dewdrops mind. He's so angry right now. look how his tail wiggles ever so slightly."
He said stroking the very calm and placcid elks head by the ears.
"Corrin, please. There is no reason to be rude." Zeldana said to him when he stepped out after his piece. "There are still others to think of. It is still my home." She reminded him.
Yeda frowns at Corrin's suggestion.
Eventually, but there is still the chance we can revive Jorn. Still just a finger away. She hasn't fully sheathed Nualia's blade yet and still looks upon not-Jorn.
She glances at the mayor.
On the other hand we may not be resolving this issue now. I very much would like my old sword back...
Loxley turned when Lady Deverin spoke up, her hands falling to her sides as she stepped away from ‘not Jorn’.
She hugged herself with one arm, looking appropriately admonished.
”Apologies, Lady Deverin.”
She glances around at the others.
She holds a hand up to Crusk.
”No need to apologize to me.”
Loxley shook her head.
”We can wait until Jorn has returned-“
She trailed off, sensing something from Zeldana.
The witch’s tone was calm still, but a chill hung in the air around her. As Zel spoke of power and it use Loxley frowned, pressing a hand to the case on her hip. She was surprised, and more than a little concerned to find the clasp open.
Loxley quickly resecured the clasp, the arcane lock reengaging.
She wondered just how long she would be able to avoid power. Her ‘heritage’ felt like a gaping maw she balanced precariously over, fearing the winds of change that would topple her into its bottomless void.
Loxley followed the others to the door last, pausing to look back at those remaining.
”Apologies, again, for our… emotional outburst.”
She offers the men and women gather an apologetic look, though the look she levels ever so briefly at the entity inhabiting Jorn’s flesh more than speaks of her lack of sympathy for them at the moment.
Outside, she nods at Zel when she states her intention to seek solace by the waters.
”Of course.
She glances to Corrin and Yeda.
”I know I’ll feel better once Mar’du is whole and in your grasp again.”
She offers the warrior a smile.
”I think I may find a quiet spot to study some. It always helps me clear my own thoughts.”
|
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Gunnar stays surprisingly calm as the mayor calls for attention. In fact, he expected it would have come sooner. He already knew of the attitudes of those who are born into power and never knew a life without it. Any claim to that power is met with reprisal, and the reminder of who holds that power. Even if that regards a single finger.
However, the young priest is not against her intervention. Especially after Zeldana talks about power. To him, it showcases the very need for institutions and the seemingly pointless power of mayors, kings and queens. As Zel said, power is indeed only a tool, without allegiance, faith or even ethics. And its use by those who do not consider its moral implications is at the core of the discussion of good versus evil. However, he isn't sure how to address this to the group afterwards.
He thinks of the group because, even being relatively a stranger to them, Gunnar feels he has a responsibility to them. Zel is dealing with grief and it shows. He feels she needs support, and there may come the time where she needs to accept that Jorn is gone. The resurrection rod actually makes this more difficult. Still, for now, Gunnar feels he needs to do everything in his reach to help bring him back.
As they exit the room, he interjects and says "If you don't mind, I'd like to confer with Father Zantus. This will be a religious discussion, so I'm not sure you'd want to sit in, but any who feel like it, is welcome to join." He looks at no one in particular as he speaks. In reality, he wishes all will join and stay silent during his talk, but he thinks Notjorn will agree to the plan before that happens.
Gunnar says "Abstalar, I didn't say anything in there because I am not sure my line of thought is sound. I have gone through Desna's teachings in my mind over and over trying to come up with a reasonable position on all of this." He suddenly feels very uncomfortable in his clothes and twists and shifts.
He says "One thing struck me. Whatever soul got pulled into that body is, without a doubt, one very lucky soul. And that is one of Desna's teachings. Should we not take that into account? To mess with that man and his luck would go against what we believe in."
Gunnar also thinks, but does not say, that the finger plan is grasping at straws in his opinion, and going through with it is an attempt at their moral standards.
Crusk starts playing some music. Maybe a small performance can help him clear his thoughts. He plays on his lute a somber tune called "the Dirge of King Fantom." Named for an old Varisian King, the music is meant to be sung as well. But Crusk isn't very good at singing.
Besides, he plays the tune to help him think. What were the moral implications of resurrecting Jorn? Was cutting off a finger worth it? He prided himself of moving through society.
If he went along with the others, how would society view the act. He would be unpopular, and then he would have to leave Sandpoint. No more fine wines, which he likes to taste; no more ladies to woo. "I'll have to speak to Loxley, and convince her that this isn't moral," he said to himself.