Isilme throws open the door, exclaiming "Jod!" so as to startle the bored gnome. After a moment she continues, "Have you news to report?"
Isilme spends her time on the trip pondering the sensation she'd received the day before as they had left the tomb. Spotting the butterfly sitting outside, she had felt a sense of satisfaction well up within her, as if the Song of Spheres had been smiling upon her. Clearly, however, consecrating the tomb had not been enough to end the curse, an oversight they would need to correct now.
As they head down into the tomb, she takes a closer look, no longer having to avoid trampling upon the remains of the sarkorians they had found within. Hopefully today they would finish putting the last of those tormented by Skulgrym to rest.
Ehren rides to Sesker's Gully in contemplative silence, pondering the solemn task that awaited them.
While he understood the reasoning behind Ary's desire to move her ancestors' remains, it was a shame they had to do so. For whatever reason, it seemed that even Skulgrym had not gone so far as to disturb the Bishops' bones. But then, he was not exactly familiar with Iomedaean funeral rites - under the circumstances, taking them to Drezen might well be their best course of action. As long as Ser Alrys could rest beside his siblings and father, Ehren sincerely doubted that it truly mattered where.
Down in the crypt, Ehren takes solace in the fact that he no longer has to tread on the bones of the fallen. With the malevolent presence banished, it truly felt like a different place. In the final chamber, he looks to Ary, awaiting instruction on how to best handle the delicate process.
Jod leaps up into the air with a squeak, gaining an altitude of several more feet than one would expect of such a small man.
"I-Isilme!" he gasps. Jod was never the type to use titles nor honorifics, which earned him punishments varying from winded laps around the citadel bailey to mess hall duty from his previous captains. Once he had regained his composure, he says, "The poet has another submission for you to review. He requests an audience at your next convenience."
Isilme of course understands the meaning behind his words. Nurah Dendiwhar's continued presence at Drezen was largely being kept secret, should the enemy decide to attempt to reclaim her... or simply dispose of a loose end. The Lord-Commander had ensured that her cell was less of a prison, and more of enforced house arrest - she had a small, miniature suite down in the dungeons that was kept under heavy guard. She spent most of her days writing, though, due to her confinement her subjects were limited to the things she already had access to, or from her conversations with Ary Bishop. Whenever she finished a work, as spymaster, Isilme was to study her writing to ascertain any hidden messages or notes that might be cloaked within.
"Additionally, the Lord-Commander is readying a wagon to return to Sesker's Gully. She requests your presence once you are ready."
"Just let me know if I'm starting to do something that will cause major problems." Ary says to Hulma Yhon.
"I'm sorry." Ary says as she lifts each of the Sarcophagi from their resting places, moving them back towards the entrance, being careful to protect them from harm as she takes them back up the stairs to the wagon. She does so with little other additional hesitation, it was something that the commander felt needed to be done.
"Once we've moved everyone back to Drezen, and laid them to rest together, we'll hold another funeral rite. All that I know about the Fallen is that we have to both bury them and hold the funeral... and call out their name. Alrys wanted to be buried beside his family so... I guess that means moving everyone together. Sesker's Gully will be valuable in its own rights once we can supply it... and we can repurpose the tomb for safety." she tells the others as she continues the work.
Hinagiku’s mien darkens slightly as Ehren confirms her opinion about the half-nabasu’s soul. She had thought he would show interest in helping the soul… but he truly seemed to have given up all hope for its soul.
”It is true that everyone has choices… but the ones we can take are the ones we are aware of…. Being likely raised by an oni doesn’t let much options shines. Without knowing about this wound, I would never have come here…” she says, with a little sad smile, not at their disagreement, but at the topic.
Hinagiku keeps to the end of the line with Hulma while they all make their way back into the tomb. And, while Ary starts to move sargophagi with eyebrow raising strength, she takes the young cleric of Iomedae aside.
”These poor souls were reanimated by the nabasu. I placed them in this position so their souls might rest, would you do anything else to help guide their souls to the Inheritor?”
It's at least a comfort to know that the tomb hadn't been bothered by anyone else while they had returned to the city once again. "Let's focus on getting all of them back to Drezen where they can be buried properly and we don't have to worry about them anymore," Val suggests as she helps moving the bodies. "We can worry about retaking the town entirely once we're not cursed anymore."
"We'll have to keep worrying about them." Ary says as she comes back into the room proper, "As our graveyards grow, we'll have to add more and more clerics and guards to keep everything... I can't think of the word." she says after a moment of thought. "The demons and cultists will try to use them against us, and protecting them is its own sort of headache." she says, wiping her forehead as she heads into the littlest Bishop's room. "Sorry little one." she adds as she continues the grim work. "But... even with everything going wrong here, it's actually a bit better for it, because we were able to get out here and fix it... and I guess that's kinda the goal, yeah?"
Hulma Yhon smiles brilliantly at Hinagiku, her face framed with a tangle of frizzy black hair parted to one side. "No, by freeing them from the nabasu you have done all they need. It is part of the miracle of our goddess that, upon death, should our souls be worthy they will find their way to the Inheritor's side on their own! My father had a saying, 'funerals are for the living'. They're for... reminding us that death doesn't always have to be a goodbye. And a chance to let our loved ones know how they feel, even if we're the only ones who hear our words or see our tears."
She traces her hand along one of the many statues of the Inheritor in the crypt. "I can tell this town is very old because we don't really maintain graveyards anymore. They... would take up too much space." she says, trailing off. A shadow of sadness passes over her face, but it only lasts a moment. "We Crusaders often cremate our dead, and spread them during a service where we take turns speaking of the bravery and valor of the fallen."
Her fingers stop at a candle-holder left on the base on the statue. It is empty. She turns to bow to Lady Magdelene respectfully. "But I think this crypt served another purpose for this town. It was a place to honor the heroics of the Bishop family... our people need heroes to look up to, to serve as role models. This was a place to remember what they did, and to meditate on what we can do as Crusaders to live up to their legacy. I mean, wow! Sebastian Bishop," she breathes, eyes wide as she gazes upon his image. "I don't know if the Crusades would have gotten anywhere without him. I remember listening to stories about him at my first Armasse. And maybe, with our lady of Valor at my side, next Armasse I'll get to be the one telling stories about him to the next generation of Crusaders." She presses her palm against the cold metal of her breastplate.
To encourage Hulma, Hinagiku nods every so often while she explains to her some of the tenets of her faith.
"People's passing can be hard on those who knew the departed... yes." Hinagiku finally acquiesces before nodding some more as the cleric pursues her explanation.
"Your knowledge of this crypt is impressive... a place were to drawe courage from past heroes. From where I come from, we sometimes have small shrines in memory of our ancestors to remember them, and sometimes draw strength from their achievements. Who do you think Ary?" she asks as the woman comes back for the last sarcophagi.
Isilme chuckles at Jod's leap into the air. "You should have been listening for my approach!" she says, teasing him. "Thank you for relaying this news, and Ary's message as well."
One of the benefits of her base of operations was the comings and goings of various performers within. The traffic combined with Isilme's ability to alter shape allowed her to leave in various forms other than her own without attracting attention. "Very well then, I shall pay him a visit before we leave," Isilme says as her form shifts into the form of a male black-haired human crusader.
After working her way down, she leaves through the front, heading out towards the citadel. Once inside the front gate she drops her guise and heads in to visit the halfling. While she didn't need to directly read the book to know what it contained, she always made sure to double-check that the book itself was free of any markings that might function as code. She wasn't certain it was possible to have something like that escape her notice, but then she had never exactly tried to push it either.
Once down at the bottom, Isilme greets the halfling. "Good day, Nurah. I understand you have finished another work!" she exclaims, curious to see what she had written this time.
Isilme interjects as Ary begins to worry about the sanctity of any graves they might place within Drezen. While normally such a thing would be something to worry about, she felt it would be less of an issue except in the case of all of Drezen falling. "As long as we take care to hallow our gravesites, I do not believe we will have to worry. Of course, as Hulma mentions, one does not need to worry about the bodies of the fallen if they have been cremated."
"Sebastian was certainly impressive in life. He came by to attempt to convince Elan and I to join once..." Isilme says, drifting off into her memories for a moment. In some ways it was like remembering an entirely different life now, even if she was beginning to get a glimpse of how she might return to her original form. "I think having a tomb with all three of them within Drezen might help with the crusaders' morale, though I can certainly understand if you might wish for them to be located someplace more secluded. Alternatively we could put up a small monument to honor them, similar to Hinagiku's mention of a small shrine. It is good to remind everyone that we have made it here together, each and every victory today is the result of the victories and even holding actions fought by those that came before."
"Returning here after we have removed our curse will help, Val, but I believe we will also need to spend some time considering how to purify the town itself. Some of the buildings had malevolent spirits within them, and we will need to help them find peace as well," she says in response to Valaria's comment. "I agree that we should return to do that when we have the chance."
For a moment, the druid contemplates what might have happened had Hinagiku fallen into Vorlesh's hands all those years ago. Would she even remotely resemble the person she is today? The answer was fairly obvious, the possibilities predictably too horrid to consider. Never fond of wondering what could have been, Ehren is quick to banish those dark thoughts.
"You ended up exactly where you were supposed to. Whether you knew of it or not, it was the path you chose. I believe the very same thing about him."
"Even if your family must be moved, perhaps this crypt should remain, exactly as it is now," Ehren says to Ary, concurring with Hulma's sentiment.
"They can't be cremated." Ary says simply, but firmly. "The destruction of the body would purge the Fallen and deny them their way into heaven." As she moves past Hulma to begin to lift up Magdelene, she pauses. "Do you know anything of Ser Alrys that you could share? Things from before his fall here? I think if he's near he'd appreciate hearing about them. Knowing he's remembered and honored, you know?"
After listening to the others converse for a moment on the subject at hand, Ary rolls a shoulder uncomfortably and chews her lip. "It's complicated, yeah? While I understand that the people need their heroes, I'm coming to find, more and more... that the people need to be heroes, too. Making a monument to House Bishop just seems... I don't know, vain? I understand that we accomplished a lot and made a great deal of sacrifices.." she smiles mirthlessly as she looks towards the sarcophagus, meeting the image's eyes. "But I think it'd be better to have a monument to all of the fallen than just my fallen.
She shakes herself from her reverie, "Honestly... I'd hoped that the town might be cleansed once we take care of the funeral rites. I mean, we'd have to do a lot of rebuilding, regardless. Make some sturdier stuff. I do agree that the crypt doesn't exactly need much in the way of renovations, perhaps expansion... but keeping it enclosed and deep, so larger Demons can't get in and can't just crush it could be a godsend to anyone trapped out here."
"I do not think it is vainglorious to be acknowledged by others," Ehren replies, mildly amused by Ary's persistent humility. Though, perhaps it was something that ran deeper than that. "What you say is true. There are many crusaders who have laid down their lives without receiving the same kind of recognition. But that does not mean that their sacrifices are not honored or remembered."
"People get to choose their heroes... Your family just so happens to be full of them. I am sure that not all of them intended to be icons to crusaders everywhere."
Deciding that he should not push Ary any harder on the topic, Ehren shifts to the more practical matter.
"There are many considerations we will need to make if this town is to be restored. I am sure the finer details can be settled back in Drezen. But first, we have a funeral to plan for."
"That, or bards create them." Ary says with a small eyeroll and a self-deprecating grin. "Not that I'm complaining about bardic stories of real heroes that get retold... I mean, the stories at Armasse are what made me join in the first place." she pauses for a moment, before settling into the new topic.
"Yeah... maybe with liberal use of wall of stone and stone shape you could create a fortress long before we populate it." Ary responds with a small grin, teasing the archdruid, and happy for the change of topic.
Nurah regards Isilme dourly, as usual. "Isilme," she says, simply. Despite being trapped in a windowless, barred cell, her quarters more resembled a small, cozy studio apartment than a true jail cell. She had comfortable seating with plush cushions, a rug, a small bed, and her own desk. She also had several bookshelves, each filled with history books she had requested. Sometimes she borrowed them from Aravashnial's library. Others were gifts. Isilme had screened each of these texts, just in case she was actually trying to research a means of escape, but ultimately they were almost entirely focused on the Worldwound, Sarkoris and the surrounding nations.
Her recent works, interestingly, were more focused on the Sarkorian kellids than the actual Crusades. The fifth Crusade is a misnomer, she wrote in one of her more recent works. For it would be more accurately named the Sixth. The First Crusade, after all, happened nearly 300 years ago, and culminated at the famous battle at the Lake of Mists and Veils....
This one was no different. Titled Holdings of Clan Wintersun, this text was a dry compilation of the history, customs, and lands of Clan Wintersun prior to the Crusades. Since she couldn't full-well go research this information herself, it was drawn from several other sources that she had managed to procure.
"Hmmm," Hulma says, thinking to herself. "I don't know anything about an Alrys Bishop. As far as I know, Lady Magdalene's successor was Ser Lucas Bishop, who lead a mission deep into the Worldwound to excavate the nexovar needed for the wardstones. Was Alrys one of your great-cousins?"
"In any case, I agree, sometimes we need to see greatness in another before we can realize it in ourselves." She smiles. "If you are ready to be going I'll help collect these bones for travel."
"Bards generally do a better job of telling a story when there's a story to tell in the first place," Val says with a small grin. "They have a tendency to... exaggerate the details, but most of us aren't good enough to make us stories off the top of our heads."
"Alright then." Ary nods, "He was my great grandfather. Sebastian's son and Lucas's father. Survived by and Elizabeth." she pauses for a moment, "Probably the only folks who managed to get out of here or close to it. History tends to rhyme like that." she adds grimly.
As Ary finishes gathering the last of the bodies, using the crates they'd brought with them to pack the unliving into separate boxes to carry back up to the wagons, she pauses for a moment. She looks around expectantly. She had expected him to stop them before if they'd made any sort of mistakes, or to appear at all. Finally, she calls out, "Ser Alrys! We have need of you for a moment more."
The air seems to chill for a moment, then Ser Alrys appears, attended by his small contingent of ghostly crusaders. His brothers in unlife. Despite this, he appears to be doing better. His face no longer bears signs of decay, and his eyes are bright beneath his helmet, rather than sunken and empty.
"Lord-Commander Bishop," he responds. He glances at the crates and sarcophagi in the wagon. "You are moving our family for burial?" He asks, then nods. "It is just as well. This town is a rotting corpse. It will attract more flies, sooner or later."
Then he smiles. "My mind is clearer of late. I feel less confused...I no longer feel despair. I thank you." His eyes sparkle with excitement, likely at the prospect of finally being rid of his own unholy curse. "What do you need of me?"
"A requirement, I'm afraid. We can't be certain that your rest would be anything but fitful here. The lore that I have about your condition is patchy at best, and there are too many uncertainties. I'm not certain that interring you in the vault will put you to rest, and I know that cremation would likely destroy you completely... so burial it is. I need your assistance in a bit of grim work... I need for you to help me locate and identify the bodies of your Fallen brothers-in-arms. Ending your curse will do little if we leave them and their deeds unnamed." Ary says as she looks to each of the guardsmen.
"We intend to bury you alongside the Sarkorians who fell here, allowing your vigils to continue... though without extreme measures we'd be unlikely to give them the same degree of acknowledgement, we can be certain of all of your rest. You'll all be buried in the fertile grounds of Drezen's outskirts."
Alrys nods. "Of course. There may not be much left to find... but we have a connection to what remains of our bodies."
For the next few hours, Alrys and his soldiers slowly lead Ary and the heroes throughout the city in search of the places they had fallen. Sometimes they had to excavate through rubble and fallen buildings to find some scrap of a jawbone or femur, but in the end they find them all.
She also learns their names:
- Owen Dôlyrhaul
- Vanuath Ariessus
- Ilanis Amastacia
- Winifried Chwiban
- Azaki Yaeldren
- Seraphina Highhill
Once all of the sarcophagi have been removed from the tomb and loaded onto the wagon, Ehren erects another wall of stone, layering it over whatever remains of the first one. Despite being cleared of anything an unscrupulous treasure hunter might desire, the tomb was in itself still a sacred place, well worth protecting.
"Ser Alrys, do the other spirits in this town rest easy?" Ehren asks as they search for the remains of the other Fallen. The knight's remark about the town was not without merit, but it did not have to be true forever.
Alrys watches as Ary lifts a beam of a house up high enough for Valaria to dart in and pull out what appears to remain of an arm, its fingers still tightly clasped around the rusted blade of a sword.
Seraphina Highhill watches, smiling sadly. "I thought I heard an infant's cry in this home... but it was just a trap, laid by fiends. I was unable to return to my squad," she says.
Alrys turns to the archdruid. "There are haunts that remain, in some of the hidden places still left in this town. But a proper blessing by those who follow the noble and true gods should quell their angry spirits. For instance, I no longer feel the anguished cries of your people. I hope that they have found eternal rest with the Green."
"We can attempt to clear those today, or call for the aid of those more properly specialized in exorcism." Ary suggests, looking to the others. Isilme and Valaria in particular seemed likely to chime in about freeing the souls trapped in their recursive dooms... though both had limited capacity to do anything for it. "Though, if we're to get all of you buried tonight, along with the villagers, we'll need to return sooner rather than later." Ary says as she slowly eases the beam back down so as to not disturb the building's balance.
"Do you know if there are any Menhir or wardstones located nearby? It could speed our passage to and from this location, and... it seems almost strange to go somewhere and not have Ehren talk to a rock."
Alrys' expression is blank. "Wardstones? Oh.... you mean Lord-Commander Pernigrais' project? No, no, nothing like that here."
Hinagiku works tirelessly with the others to find the remains of Alrys’ companions in arms. As always, Ary was thinking about everything and everyone; her energy was impressive even for her age.
Hinagiku hangs back to leave enough space to Ary and Valaria while they are busy recovering Seraphina’s remains
”There are many restless spirits here, but sometimes it is better to finish what one has started before undertaking more tasks. Especially when one has time plenty of time to do those things” Hinagiku says, preferring for Anevia to be free of her curse sooner rather than later.
"I think bringing in some extra help to clear the remainder of the restless dead is going to save us a lot of trouble," Val agrees. "There's only so much we can do if we try to do it now anyway. Ehren and Isilme can't just keep hallowing everything on their own."
Ehren smiles, appreciating Ary's inquiry. The possibility of acquiring more insight into Clan Sesker was something he had not given much thought to. But even if there were a menhir or ley node nearby, he somehow doubted that he could transport a whole wagon. "Sorry, Ary, but we will have to take the long way back."
"In any case, I agree. Burying the Fallen is our top priority. The rest can wait, for now."
"It is not such a long trip, we will be back to Drezen shortly," Isilme says. "We can make haste to return so Alrys and the others can finally be laid to rest."
Once the remains of the Fallen were carefully loaded into the wagon, Alrys lingers near Ary for just a moment longer.
"Lord-Commander, I see that you have not donned the family arms. That breastplate has adorned our family since the days long past whence our Lady of Valor walked the earth alongside her faithful soldiers. I hope that you will reconsider. It tormented me to haunt these streets, knowing that I had died with that armor on my unworthy back, unable to pass it down to another Bishop." And with that, the ghost simply vanishes, though Ary can feel his eyes still watching her, as she drives the wagon down the worn roads to Drezen.
After the fresh rain, earthworms seem to boil up from the ground in droves, their impossibly long and fat bodies squelching under hoof, wheel, and foot as the heroes pass. After a few hours, it is now very late into the afternoon when they finally emerge through the western gates of the city.
Ehren smiles as worms wriggle between his toes, living proof that Sarkoris could be reclaimed from the Worldwound. But as much as he would like to stand around and appreciate nature's miracles, there is still more work to be done.
"I still need to speak with Grumtarr, but if that goes well I can start digging," Ehren says, taking note of the sun's position in the sky. The funeral preparations have to be done right, but they also have to be done quickly, lest the curse continues to wear away at them. "If all goes well, things could be ready before sundown. In the meantime, perhaps some of you can see about gathering those who should be in attendance?"
"I have not, no. I'm still uncertain. The armor would be better utilized by a paladin and I have not yet ea-" Ary begins as she turns her attention towards him, but sees that he's no longer there. She huffs slightly. "I won't wear it until you're put to rest." she finishes, before preparing for the trip back.
* * *
"Right, I'll inform the Crusaders and arrange for those who desire to be there to be able to have time off compared to those who aren't interested... as best I can. Would one of you mind stopping by Galfrey's Banner to request some alcohol? I'm sure we could all use a bit of a break after all of that. Oh, and get some more bread if they have any?" she pauses, nervously rotating a shoulder in place, working her current armor. "Should I... put on his armor before the funeral for the speech? I feel I should wait until after."
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Having already pushed the matter of her family's legacy earlier, Ehren gives Ary's question some serious thought before answering. Ser Alrys would soon receive the deserved rest he has been denied for so long, but the Bishop name seemed to be every bit as important to him.
"Before passing on from this world, I think Ser Alrys would very much like to see his descendant donning the family armor," he says slowly and deliberately, before adding, "Even if only for a short while."
Ehren pauses before broaching the topic of the funeral itself again. "How would you like their graves to be arranged? I could have the plots ready for them."
-----
After asking and hopefully receiving Grumtarr's blessing, Ehren goes on to ask the durdalis for his assistance with the undertaking Kule had suggested. While he has never gone so far as to construct one himself, burial mounds were hardly a foreign concept to him.
Aside from the ones he knew of from the memories he acquired from the menhir, he had visited a few of them himself in his own lifetime. During their ill-fated mission to Storasta, they all saw the burial mounds of the extinct Clan Bedde; they even took shelter in one of them. But even before that, when the druid was much younger, he had visited the barrow of a proud warrior. As his father told it, Argyll of Clan Penhaearn had insisted on having an entire hill all to himself, so that his bones would never have to suffer in the presence of the unworthy. Clearly, that is not what he had in mind for Clan Sesker.
Lacking the skill to carve out an elaborate burial mound, Ehren simply takes on the form of a dire badger and digs deep into the hill, intending to hollow out a small space in the dirt. The bones of Clan Sesker and their allies would not sit on stone slabs and be preserved for years to come. Grumtarr would not approve of such a construction, in any case. Rather, they would be immersed in fertile soil, where they would decompose and rejoin the Green. Back on the surface, he selects one of the menhir and on its outer face uses stone shape to carve a series of druidic runes, in such a way that would not interfere with their ritual carvings. They read: Thíos tá an fine Sesker ina luí ar ais go dtí an Gwyrdd.
Of course, there was also Ary's family to consider. Placing a traditional Mendevian cemetery right next to a Kellid burial mound was a tad unusual, but neither unheard of nor outright offensive. On the contrary, given the home the two once shared, it only seemed appropriate for them all to be close together in death. Accounting for the sarcophagi they removed from the crypt, as well as Ser Alrys himself, Ehren digs out an appropriate number of plots. Not at all an artisan, he determines that someone else could add an appropriate monument or memorial in time.
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"Thank you, Ehren." Ary says, inclining her head to the archdruid. "Would it be awkward to place them along the northern border of the gravesite you're creating for the rest of the population of Sesker's Gully? While I'm certain there were other defenders, we know for certain that these men fought and died in defense of them. It would be... symbolic to say the least."
* * *
Ary takes the time to put the word out to throughout the citadel that there would be a funeral for the fallen of Sesker's Gully... and that while death was often a somber thing, the reclamation of their bodies after such a long while was cause for celebration, not despair. She intended for there to be at least light festivities, and for the focus on the death to take a back seat to the focus on the noble sacrifices made and the progress of the war efforts thus far within their newest Crusade.
* * *
Ary takes the time to lay out the full plate on her bed, having Fenton come into the room along with her to prepare it all, each piece in its proper place. He'd likely aided in dressing his former knights, something Ary had never had need of previously. While she had grown more comfortable in her current form over time, she had never quite recovered her utterly relaxed attitude towards the physical form that she'd had since her early youth.
The young Bishop had enjoyed having a strong, comfortable form that didn't easily ache, easy to manage blonde hair, and she would be lying if she didn't enjoy the more curvy accentuations. This new form was all different, though. The red hair she'd taken care of - hers but not hers, kept out of sight and out of mind. But the gray and charcoal of her current form was still alien - something that she kept covered. Gauntlets, armor, leather... even a tapestry once. Fenton had never known the Bishop that wasn't uncomfortable within her own skin, and thus had never helped her to dress.
With such heavy, intricate armor, new boundaries would have to be pressed through. They each take the time to shine, polish, and otherwise maintain each, both aware that it would likely need to be refitted for the woman - if it didn't have some sort of enchantment that would fix that inherently. Each piece of her old armor is carefully removed and set aside, before layer upon layer is added to her current form. With a wry smile, she could better understand Kule's complaints, now.
* * *
Ary begins the trek northward to the city's border, now wearing the crimson and gold armor. Red, gray, and gold had subsumed Blonde, tan, silver and emerald of years-gone-by. The trek was slightly uncomfortable; her body had never had need of learning to deal with such heavy armor, and her joints weren't quite accustomed to the armor's joints. In particular, she felt the impact in her wrists, elbows, and the entirety of her legs below the thighs. It was something she'd have to get used to over time... though the weight of the armor made it significantly more bearable than she would have otherwise expected. She gathers the wagons along the way and swings by Galfrey's Banner to ensure that food and drink would be manageable for the attendies.
* * *
Once Ary arrives at the hill, she's only slightly surprised at the speed at which the Archdruid had worked - truly, the proximity to the menhhir was the greater surprise for the crusader. Carefully she moves the wagon over the landscape, easily able to match a horse in strength when it was needed, bringing all of the Crusaders to their final resting places. Despite the fact that she intended for the trip to be one of celebration, she couldn't help but feel some degree of somber empathy. She hoped that at some point, there would be others who owed their lives to these men and women who would come to visit the site besides the young Bishop that acted as hearse and pallbearer.
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"You should don the family gear as part of the funeral Ary, it would only be respectful to do so. It is yours to bear going forward after all," Isilme says, trying to reassure Ary.
"I will see about providing some entertainment, we have several visiting bards who could provide music," she says, thinking about what might work best for the occasion.
"Val, would you like to take care of arranging the food and drink? Perhaps afterwards you can share some bawdy tales to liven everyone's spirits," Isilme adds with a wink.
After taking some time back in Drezen, Isilme arrives with four musicians in tow.
First there was Alys: a halfling with curly golden locks, simple white dress and carrying a dulcimer. She had come from Absalom at the request of Isilme to teach a wider array of stringed instruments to those in Drezen who wished to learn.
Second was Tomas, a portly half-elf in formal attire that had see a few too many days of travel. On his person were an array of drums and the other small percussion instruments of which he was so fond. He had a habit of playing late into the night, which was entertaining to all but those who were attempting to sleep nearby. Wooden walls did little to dampen the deep rhythms he was perpetually banging out.
Finally a pair of elves with long silver hair, brother and sister. Each wore fine short silver robes decorated with abstract mosaics in a rainbow of colors, with light pants underneath. Worship of Shelyn common among elves, and these two were perpetually demonstrating it in their flamboyant dress. The brother, Elthon played the flute and was good enough to have actually shown Isilme a trick or two, and his sister Esia was a virtuoso on the guitar, plucking away at each string with separate fingers in a truly unique style.
She guides the four to a spot conveniently close to the ceremonies, but far enough away to provide plenty of room for people to sit in the grass and enjoy the music, or hopefully even dance. She had taken the liberty of sending messengers out to notify more than just the soldiers of the event, encouraging families and other civilians to come out and celebrate as well. The truth is there hadn't been any true celebration of the capture of Drezen, and Isilme wasn't about to pass up on the opportunity to provide the citizens and defenders of the city that.
In addition, she doubled the number of scouts patrolling the outskirts of Drezen's territory and yet another group near the festivities to ensure they would be warned if anything was going to happen. Ary would of course be worrying non-stop about the people there, and being able to tell her security was already in place would help ease some of the stress.
"Als, Tomas, Elthon, Esia! Thank you all for coming on short notice, I know several of you had planned trips today or tomorrow. I believe many will make it out today, and this should be a celebration of our hard-won success in Drezen, along with an acknowledgement of those who came before us. The music should be upbeat and energetic, especially once food and drink are served. Of course do try to have fun as well! I will ensure we have some food and drink for ourselves to enjoy during breaks."
Isilme chats with them for a while as they get set up and comfortable. She made an effort to know all those who came to her nascent school, not solely for her role of spymaster, but also due to her genuine love of the arts. It had been a wonderful change of pace getting to do more than run around fighting demons and trying to avoid being killed. The thought of which brought to her attention the aches and pains remaining from Skulgrym's draining of her vitality, the second time in two days it had happened.
Once they are warmed up and people begin to arrive, Isilme summons a flute herself and joins the quartet in playing music to welcome them.
Astrusa of Galfrey's Banner was honored and delighted to serve provisions at the service, though ultimately the spread ended up being more of a sort of potluck in the end, with several different families both Crusader and kellid alike bringing family dishes for the feast. It had been a very long time since there was any reason for the citizens of Drezen to come together as one and relax and celebrate, and indeed, very few people stayed home away from the party at the make-shift barrow mound.
Ailig kneels next to the hill itself, reveling a group of kellid children with the mythical tales of Vard Rockgrinder. Meanwhile the two young dwarven daughters of one of the blacksmiths at the keep dance and giggle while wreathing Grumtarr with several flower-chains they had made. The rock elemental doesn't seem amused nor irritated at their antics, he simply sits on top the barrow stoically watching the people celebrating around his hill. Really, the only reason someone wouldn't think he was a statue, was that he occasionally blinked.
Ayavah raises an eyebrow as she paces around the burial site, holding Valaria's hand. "Sheesh, Ehren, did you really finish this all on your own without transmutation magic? And all before sundown?"
Annabelle pouts, her face partially obscured by shadow thanks to Sosiel's protective magic. "You didn't ask for my input? Don't you know I'm the magister of beautification?"
Ayavah rolls her eyes and shuffles her way up the steep hill to look at the menhir. She immediately notices his additions. "Well, maybe it's not as flowery as you'd like, 'belle, but I think he did a great job."
Further away, the musicians pause in their playing to take a break for food and drink. Elthion and Esia laugh amongst themselves, exchanging clever jokes and jibes in the elvish tongue. As Esia waits for Elthion to refill her goblet of wine, a smaller silver-haired elf peeps at Isilme from behind her vividly colored, colored dress.
"Lev'l tiril, Tael, faila glenn-gin na hen," scolds Esia.
"Don't stare, Tael, just go talk to her,"
You look around, noticing that even the dwarves had come out in droves (though, perhaps it was the ale that attracted them). A large group of them stands near the kegs, chuckling and chatting with one another in dwarven. But Joran isn't with them. Indeed, Joran isn't anywhere to be seen at all. Though, it isn't terribly surprising that Joran wouldn't be with the other dwarves. While circumstances often dictated that they had to work alongside each other, the faithful of Torag did not seem to like him, and Joran did not like them.
After awhile, Hulma approaches Ary. She pauses, giving her a salute. "Lord-Commander," she says, respectfully. Then she continues. "I think everyone who said they would be here are here. Perhaps you can give a speech about why we've all gathered?"
No doubt having to write up recycled history from other sources was mind-numbing to the halfling historian. Perhaps plumbing the depths of what Ehren knew of Sarkoris could provide something less dull. And who knows, maybe Ehren would recall something useful in the process that he wouldn't have otherwise. "If you are interested, I could arrange a visit. Of course the Archdruid is busy these days, so it might take a few days."
"Oh, and perhaps you would find it interesting to know that we have uncovered the Bishop family tomb in Sesker's Gully! Quite the find," she says, sounding excited. "No doubt news of it will be spreading like wildfire once it gets out. Reclaiming the bodies of heroes lost when everything fell apart. It is poetic that Ary herself was there to reclaim it. A story for the ages, even without embellishments," she says with a wink to the halfling.
Isilme spends the time performing watching the people of Drezen finally get a chance to unwind. It was hard not to be in a good mood, aches or not, seeing how quickly--especially the children--took to enjoying themselves. Her mind turns to Ai'sintar and she looks around for signs of him having come to join the festivities. She had been so busy she'd forgotten to pay him a visit, and it would be just like him to stay shut in to avoid having fun.
Looking over, Isilme notices Esia prodding the elf hiding behind her and decides to head over. "Y'quel lindale ikotane-hae, lle il'quena-aya?" she asks, her voice almost sing-song. There were many who claimed elven itself had been derived from adding celestial and draconic to sylvan, and her own lilting celestial shone through as she was in good spirits. "Ar'ya naa sina? Lye caela il-am'ar-yeste'omenta?" She smiles at the small elf hiding behind Esia and gives a slight bow.
"And who is this? We have not yet been properly introduced."
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Upon entering the now fertile area surrounding Drezen, Hinagiku slowly drifts away from the group to collect as much wildflowers as possible. Although there were few still growing at this time of year, she now knew of a few species that still flowered in late summer. It was not lost on her that she was now picking live flowers for a funeral while some months ago she had used bouquets of dried grass for a wedding. Yet, it seemed good to her, the people at the wedding had needed to be the focus, and now the symbolic surrounding the funeral had to take greater importance than the actual interring. Hope and memories were now at the forefront, and that is what the flowers should evoke.
And so, after a few hours, Hinagiku guides a horse burdened with huge flower bouquets. In view of the slowly growing crowd, she begins to set the flowers in smaller packs to decorate the entrance of the mound as well as create a alley in front of it so that the remains to be buried are brought to the mound in a path worthy of them.
Isilme glances around the field, and her interest perks up as she catches sight of the purple-and-blue riftwarden robes in the crowd. But upon looking closer, she sees its the hunched over form of elderly Quednys Orlun, walking alongside his students, all decked in the same uniforms. He smiles gratefully as Fenna brings him drink and food, then helps serve meals to her younger classmates. However, Aravashnial doesn't appear to be among them. The children sit on the grass enjoying their food, until little Chiles suddenly exclaims,
"FENNA! Aema did something to my food! It tastes like shrimp and I HATE shrimp!"
The littlest Riftwarden was many things, but a good liar she was not, and she bursts into giggles even as Fenna stalks over to her to scold her. "Aema, remember what I talked about when it came to using metamagic?"
While this was all going on, the azata strides over to Esia to peer at the younger elf still clutching her skirts. Though small, the elf was far too old for such childish behavior - they appeared around 12 or 13, just at the brink of adolescence. Their long silver hair is worn in thin braids, and several dangling earrings hang from their long ears, connecting at different points with long golden chains.
"Sina naa Tael, lye ai robav. Tael, tul a no', ri tasau," she says, patiently.
"...Ta," Tael squeaks out, green eyes wide.
"Tael naa fiolavien tyal- i' fainnov. Ro poran a' an athraul nanethavien er en' lle fiagarn sinome e' Drezen," she continues, smiling slightly as the little elf's ears turn tomato-red.
"This is Tael, our little sibling. Tael, come on, say hello."
"...Hi."
"Tael is training to play the violin. They wish to ask about becoming one of your students here in Drezen."
Nurah regards Isilme with suspicion and narrowed eyes. Why was she being nice to her, without simultaneously being sanctimonious?
"It's not good, and it's not bad either. It's just necessary work. To consolidate the work of those who came before, into something easier to review. And it's not like I have much else to do, anyway."
She perks up for a moment, more intrigued at the mention of Ary's latest exploits than the opportunity to interview the young archdruid.
"Ah, right, I had almost forgotten that one of her ancestors was stationed at Sesker's Gully," she says, eyes wide. She huffs. "The Bishop family is interesting, but yes, it is difficult to discern what is fact and what is myth when it comes to the tellings of their many exploits."
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Ary huffs as she notices that Joran wasn't there, but doesn't have much to add. Maybe he was still overseeing things from a distance... maybe he was just that degree of depressed that it was better that she not press the issue at all. The crowds were large enough as it were.
"Thank you, Hulma." Ary says as she begins unloading the cart, lifting huge stone sarcophagi and crates alike off of the wagon on the northern end of the barrow. "I'll begin shortly. There's always so much to do and so little time to do it in." she says offering the woman a small smile.
After finishing her work and giving everyone an opportunity to settle in... Ary isn't quite certain how to get everything to die down for a moment.
Once they have, she begins, standing near the plots at the north, pacing slightly as she speaks. "Nearly a year ago, 41 days short, our campaign for Drezen ended. And while the time we spent moving northwards was spent protecting the frontiers and defeating the demonic host at each step, the first leg of our journey ultimately ended in the reclamation of Drezen."
She looks out over the crowd as she paces, "Decades ago, it was Drezen's fall that began a spiral of sorts, one that we have begun the fullest recovery from that we can. Through the Green's will, we've even begun to reclaim the land itself." Ary says, motioning around.
"Sesker's Gulley was one of the earliest casualties after Drezen fell. Less than a month ago, our scouts rediscovered the village, and yesterday we finished destroying the demonic host that was present there. The lost men and women that had been enslaved by a powerful Nabasu, with tonight's festivities, will be freed from decades of unrest... and proof of our campaign's progress continues to mount. As Mother Heartwood's influence spreads, so too does our ability to not only mount assaults on demonic nests, but to reclaim them for the people who once lived there." she pauses for a moment, switching gears slightly.
"Sesker's Gulley was important to me in another way, though. It was a home to my family long before I was even born, and a little-celebrated man who fell saving his son - my grandfather - along with as many lives as he could will be buried here today. His name was Alrys Bishop. And though he and his men, Ilanis Amastacia, Vanuath Ariessus, Winifried Chwiban, Owen Dôlyrhaul, Seraphina Highhill, and Azaki Yaeldren fell that day, they are to be remembered tonight, buried alongside the men and women that they fought valiantly to save. One step closer to righting the wrongs of a long war. One step closer to victory."
Hulma manages to quiet down the crowd with the loud crack of a thunderstone, and soon the attendees were gathered, quietly awaiting to hear what their Lord-Commander had to say. At the end of her speech, the crusaders and kellids cheer loudly, and many cries of "Long live Drezen!" and "For the Crusades!" ring out amongst the crowd.
Once the crowd dies down, there is no visible sign of Alrys' passing. Though those paying attention can hear the clank-clank-clank of armored boots passing down the path, the sound getting further and further away until finally vanishing all together.
Before the crowd can truly dissipate, however, Sosiel nudges Ehren and mutters close to his ear, "Perhaps you could add a few words? You are the archdruid, after all,' he adds with a small grin.
Isilme leans down and pokes the little elf gently on the forehead and smiles at them. "Creosa tael! vano n'e, eller naa n'uma anta nurt! Er il-tyala i' kawa'salma wanne n'alaquel eller! Mankoi uma lle ve'i'kawa salma?"
Isilme joins the crowd to watch as Ary comes up to speak. Seeing Ary waiting to begin, she goes to draw the crowd's attention, but is beaten to the punch by Hulma's thunderstone. Satisfied that people were listening, Isilme turns her attention to Ary's address.
Ary always had a knack for speaking to large groups, she thinks as the speech goes on. Whether addressing the city now, or the troops when there had been disgruntled forces under her command, she had always been able to connect with those beneath her. Isilme wasn't certain whether Ary realized that such a talent was exceedingly rare.
When Ary is finished, Isilme heads over to meet with her. "That was a wonderful speech Ary. You have a way with words at times like these," she says sincerely. "I was in the library downstairs earlier and read an interesting book, one you might enjoy. I will loan it to you later, but there are other books available that might interest you as well." She stops to think for a second before adding "I wonder if we could find some books on your family history somewhere?"
"That aside, how are you doing? I doubt you have had time to reflect on what this means to you personally."
Isilme stops briefly to check on the children and Quednys before trying to track down Aravashnial. She wasn't about to allow him to simply skip out on the festivities entirely. There would likely celebrations going on later into the evening, even after they headed back from the mound, and he needed to take a break and relax. "My favorite students! I am sure none of you have been making mischief," she says cheerfully, patting Aema on the head and giving her a wink. "Quednys, Fenna, have either of you seen Aravashnial this afternoon? I cannot believe I am going to have to drag him..." She stops and sighs, then laughs. "Of course I can, actually. He needs to get out and have some fun."
Tael blushes harder, which previously didn't seem possible, but steps out from behind Esia regardless.
"A-Amin mela i'ratro en'tura i'fainnov ona amin. Amin mela i' y-yanim en' i' lindale. Amin mela sut, aendav f-faun amin'm il'sai'quel, i'eriatach sal'cyn ve'an taina en'amin, tuulo' i'sai-yeste'coiasira amin bodgad ta de," the young elf replies, gaining confidence to look Isilme back in the eye as they go on, even as they stutter through their words.
"I-I love the sense of control the violin gives me. I l-love the beauty of the music. I love how, e-even though I'm not very good, the instrument still feels like an extension of me, from the very first time I picked it up."
***
Aema grins broadly up at her. "Nooooo mischief here, Ms.Isilme!"
Fenna's lips are still pursed in a bemused expression, but she speaks up first to answer Isilme's question. "Master Aravashnial said he had some work to finish back at the tower. I promised to bring him some food back...if you're headed that way maybe you could instead? It'll be warmer that way."
"Thank you, Isilme, I'll keep that in mind." the crusader responds as she begins moving over towards the food. "I'll need to visit soon, but there are so many other things as well. It's... mostly the things that I already said. That the Crusade moves ever onward. We'll need to fortify Sesker's Gulley soon, though, given that I mentioned it in the speech, it's sure to reach some demonic ears." she says, pausing to begin collecting some food, collecting far more than would feed herself. "How do you deal with constantly being overwhelmed with all of this stuff? Like, there are so many huge, broad things going on, but there's also the absolute need to focus on the individual... and it's so hard at times."
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Val is remarkably quiet as Ary speaks over the new graves, watching the long dead crusaders finally put to proper rest. It seems like she's lost in thought for much of the commander's speech, until Ary finally steps down from the mound. "Do you mind?" she asks quietly. "I want to give them something." The tiefling steps forward and takes a breath before she begins to recite.
In times long gone and ages past
When heroes walked this land
Walls of faith stood against the tide
Innocent hearts to defend
Though demon tide came without end
Valor held ‘gainst foul blades
Though warriors fell to demon hordes
Their legacy shall not fade
So long as wards of valor stand
Evil shall ever fail
And their names shall not be forgot
In Heaven shall they rest
In justice did they prevail
"Ta naa y'urna, n'uma? amin elea i' simpina amin. Lle naa creosa tul - istima yassen lle nosse, manka tanya naa lle irma!" She responds to Tael. "Tul a, lle omenta-aya Mellonea en' amin."
After checking with Esia, she nudges Tael towards Fenna, Aema and the rest of the riftwarden students. Even if they didn't speak elvish, it would be a chance for them to put those copious scrolls of comprehend languages she had left with them to use. She suspected once Tael got over the initial shock they would enjoy themselves quite a bit.
"It is a wonderful feeling, isn't it? I enjoy the flute myself. You are welcome to come learn with your siblings, if that is your wish!"
"Come, you should meet some friends of mine!"
"Thank you, Fenna. This is Tael by the way, you should introduce them to all the others! I will go track down Aravashnial and give him some food. And maybe a bit of a talking to about hiding out in his tower on a day like this!" She gives Fenna a wink, then pats Tael on the head and excuses herself to go track down Aravashnial.
Isilme places a reassuring hand on Ary's shoulder and smiles. "I think you are doing a fine job of it, Ary. You have a knack for staying focused on individuals. As far as everything beyond that, just remember to lean on us. You need not shoulder the burden alone, none of need do so. We have come this far together, after all." Gesturing at everyone around, she adds, "And not just us, everyone here."
When Val begins to recite her poetry, Isilme turns from Ary for a moment to listen. It wasn't what she had expected Val to go for, but it was nevertheless a wonderful piece of poetry. When Val finishes she claps along with the rest of the audience, "Superb, Val! Take a bow!"
Isilme makes the rather long trek back from the menhir to the citadel. Thanks to the blessings of the Lady Starsong however, she has become more and more fleet of foot as of late. She still couldn't speed across the landscape as fast as she did as a raelis, but her pace and endurance far exceed that of a normal mortal nevertheless.
She crosses the small drawbridge from the keep into the wizard's tower, which over the past several months had been repaired and cleaned up. No longer the foul den of Soltengrebbe, Aravashnial's tower was now partially a large study and apartment, partially a school. On the bottom floor was still the grand library, which is where he held classes. On the second floor, the large master bedroom had been converted into several bunks for the children and the Quednys. The third floor was transformed into Aravashnial's own bedroom, which opened up into a balcony overseeing the western side of the citadel's keep.
Isilme finds Aravashnial in the library. Several stained and burned riftwarden uniforms lay on a large table before him. They reek of chemicals and strange reagents. Aravashnial methodically gestures over each one, incanting the spell prestidigitation over and over, occasionally pausing to switch his chant to that of mending.
"Go ahead, Val, good luck." Ary says, giving her friend a nod, as she makes her way to the food, pausing as she begins her speech that turns into poetry.
Ary does her best to give a bit of applause to Val, hands filled with to smaller plates. "I was actually planning to go see Joran now. Perhaps the library later tonight, it feels weird to start a party then leave shortly after, but... It doesn't feel right to see someone who needs wins not celebrating a victory." Ary says with a small shrug. "And I've put this off long enough. I'd intended to speak to Magiggs, but... I don't think there would be a positive result from that. So... maybe some snacks and a friend will help cheer him up a bit." Ary suggests.
"It's still difficult, though. Asking Joran to continue his life without the divine is like asking Xanderghul to live his without the arcane. There are just so many difficulties involved though. I can make suggestions, but I can't really choose for him. And... he also doesn't really have people of his own, so he's just trapped in all of this alone." Ary says, shaking her head.