Serra:
Slowly, swirls of cleanliness appear on the armor, and continue to widen until they overtake the whole set. "Of course, Sir." The boy nods, and sets to polishing the armor.
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Serra: Kastor smiles and gets to his feet, ready to help as needed. " Yes, Sir." He sobers and glances back at the Cole, then quick steps to fall in with Sir Serra.
Serra: As Serra focuses on his parents, Kastor fades back, becoming somewhat insubstantial. Her parents solidify, his father's brow furrowing, "How have you failed me? Do you live? Do you continue to do good in everything you do. Protect the weak, fight evil? If you do this, then how could I not be proud of you?"
His mother joins his father, her arm wrapping round the man she loves. "You are our son, Serra. We love you. So long as you live we will love you and should you die, we will love you still." His mother unwinds from her husband and moves, her scent of cinnamon and apples and baking bread surrounding him for a moment as she hugs him tightly. His father too hugs him, then steps back and offers a lastwall fistbump to his only son. "We are proud of you, son. Trust this." Having said their piece they step back, and Kastor becomes solidly present once more. "We have to go back, Sir. Mendev still needs us. It's time to let them go and focus on Mendev now, Sir." He holds out his hand, though. The choice is yours. It seems important, though, to make the choice, whether to stay or to return, and he does not rush you, for it must be your decision and yours alone.
Cole: The boy nods, his smile somewhat sad. "You're closer now. It's hard to see with all the world in the way. But don't worry, I'll be around. "
He settles down near the big man, but nods at the other.
Serra: the darkness rises to swallow you, pulling you down down down into its nothingness. Slowly, though, there is a flicker, one, then another, then as if candles been lit, the world comes alight again. The sound of singing comes from the kitchen and your father's warm rolling tones come from across the bar. The fall must have knocked your head harder than you thought, though, for it is hard to make sense of what their saying. Still, it is a good day, a warm family day, one of those that you never seem to appreciate until their gone.
You try to focus to hold tight to what is going on around you, but it slips away in bits and pieces until finally, your mother's voice seems to meld with your father's and finally, finally, you can understand what their saying... "it would be nice to stay, Sir, wouldn't it? I think so too" not their voice, then, but another. He sits at your feet, polishing a bit of armor. " but Mendev still needs us, Sir. " He looks up his eyes full of admiration and certainty. " ...and knights go where we're needed, don't we,Sir?"
Cole: The darkness swallows your consciousness as the ground rushes up to meet you. There is nothing for an eternity, but slowly tiny lights begin to pass by through the back of your mind. One, then in twos and threes. The sparkling lights seem to murmur, a muddle of voices, some happy, some sad, a few scared. They mingle and become a stream, flowing in an ever rising spiral up into the air that is not air, in front of your eyes that cannot see, but somehow do. A warmth begins to glow within your chest, vibrating as it knocks at the walls of your soul. Once...twice... it could join the river and go wherever the lights go. Somewhere better than this world, surely.
The urge to follow becomes great, then greater still, and when at last it seems as if you might break free of your mortal form, you find a hand in yours, holding you within yourself. "It's lovely, isn't, Sir? I' often think it would be good to follow them." the young boy, for surely he can be no more than 9 or 10, sits next to you in mismatched armor, polishing your bow.
"Far be it from me to tell you what to do, Sir... but Mendev needs you too." He gives the bow one last looksee, then hands it back to you. Dusting off his knees, he gets to his feet and heads towards the stout body lying in the dirt and sits down, beginning to polish his armor.
Serra: The room is full of people, standing, sitting, all with a look of hopelessness about them. the scent of death, and worse, hangs in the air. One whispers, "it's a trick..." hope and despair mingled in his hoarse voice.
"tis no trick, Sir Bertram. Tis your salvation." comes another voice, clear and high, and very familiar." Dusting off his knees from where he's been kneeling, the blonde head bobs into view. "I told them you were coming, Sir. Most paid me no nevermind, but still. I told them." His gaze far older than it should be for a lad his age, Kastor nods quietly. "It was all I could do."
Serra: Kastor nods and snaps to attention then falls in with the others, ready to do battle against Evil.
Serra: Kastor joins the others, staring in awe at the little gnome, shaking his head. "He wields the shining sword. and seems to shine with Her holiness too. If he is a fallen paladin, sir, he has upwards rather than down." His eyes as wide as saucers, he nods slowly. "He seems more knightly than ever, doesn't he, Sir?"
Serra: The boy comes out from behind Cole."I-I'm ok, Sir. But this world is an ugly place. And one of them ran off somewhere. I didn't see which way."
Serra: Kastor gasps from the other room, a whispered "Help!" following quickly.
Serra: Kastor hides behind some the boxes, peeking out at Serra.
Kastor: The boy peeks out as Serra casts valiantly in mid combat. "Good spell, Sir!" No more than that encouragement does he offer, though, so overwhelmed is he by the horrible fighting going on about him.
Serra: Kastor nods, but says little as the company moves out. Every now and then his gaze goes again to the boy as he ponders a Knight's mercy.
Serra: The boy is quiet for a good long while, but finally, he cannot stop himself. "Sir... he seems very...*very* injured. Someone will need to take him back to the City... or we will need to take him with us....Or...." He pauses, swallowing hard, then spills his thoughts in a rush, before he loses his nerve...."Sir,He doesn't deserve knightly justice, but...this certainly seems like one of those tough decisions. Is this one of the ones you mean? We have to help him, don't we, Sir?"
Serra: Kastor moves to the other side of the child murmuring soothing assurances to him, but receives no sign back. After a long moment he returns to Serra with a troubled expression on his face. "I think he's broken, Sir. He doesn't seem to even hear me when I talk to him. Maybe he should be taken to Kenabres?"
Serra: Kastor gasps. "You are not Sir! You could fit down there just fine." He glares at Jurin, shocked that he would say such a thing.
Serra: Serra's armor is laid dramatically upon his bedroll when he returns to his tent, positioned for inspection. Kastor is not immediately visible but comes tumbling in after Serra grasping a bedraggled and empty little bag in his hands. "Oh! You're back! I'm sorry, Sir. Master Jurin is very quick and very quiet, apparently. I couldn't find him anywhere!"
Serra:
The boys voice filters through a pile of tent fabric, "I think I just about... OH! Thank you, Sir. I nearly had it, but it is much easier with help." Once the tent is up, he nods again at Serra's request. "Yes, Sir. Coffee or Kavu from The Quarter Master."
Serra: "Of course Sir. You'll be able to see yourself in it when I'm done. " The boy grins and gets to work, first on the tent, but with every intention of doing his best on the armor, once Serra has a suitable place to rest.
Serra: Serra eventually catches up with Kastor as the boy circles around camp. he walks, leading Daisy beside him. "I went to see if I could see anything, but I didn't go very far. I didn't see anything, though. Shall I see to our tent, Sir?"
Serra: "Yes Sir. Did you see? Goats and goats upon goats." The boy marvels, equal parts of awe and horror in his tone.
"Yes, Sir. At least one was broken. I could hear it, even over here."
Serra: Kastor hands off the ranseur with a wistful look on his face, not having seen Serra fly before. It was clearly something he had not realized that he could dream of dreaming. When he is startled out of his reverie by Serra's orders, Kastor limps resolutely to stand in front of Amber, wishing he had a weapon. He stands bravely, nonetheless, his fists balled and ready to do his duty.
Serra: "Coming, Sir!"
Kastor continues hustling across the camp to retrieve his Master's Ranseur. He slips easily through the scurrying warriors, his small size obviously aiding his adept bob and weave. So good at it is he, that occasionally, he almost seems to pass right through the knights.
Serra: The boy runs off to grab Serra's ranseur, quickly disappearing into the buzzing hive of activity that is the stirring campsite.
Serra: "SIR! YEs SIR! I am here! I was just seeing to our horses! What should I do? Is it breakfast? I can get you breakfast."
Serra looks for Lusila. Serra: Though Serra does catch up with his squire, it takes him a moment. By the time he gets there, there is no sign of Lusila. Still, Kastor stands next to a small and sturdy pony, loaded with bags. "This is Daisy, isn't she something? The Lady Lusila had things to do and told me to tell you that she would find you once we are on the move."
Serra: "Oh, she's right over... well, she *was* right over there. Her name is Lusila and she is from Nerosyan, I think. I think I remember her from there. Can I go get my pony and bring it to show you? She is the sweetest thing. Her name is Daisy and she like's oatcakes." The boy nearly bounces with enthusiasm.
"Well, good luck with that. I will leave you to your packing. I must see to mine own," Serra smiles politely and takes his leave, seeking Kastor. Serra: Kastor, never too far away, walks beside Serra with a new spring in his step. "It's almost time, isn't Sir? And you're to have a horse. I have a horse too. A very nice woman over there, with a scar across her nose said that I can ride on her pony so I might keep up with you. Uhm... Is it hard to ride a horse, Sir?"
Serra: The boys eye practically pop from his head as he eyes the medal. "Oh my goodness, Sir. I think Beagan has the right of it. That is both Righteous, and Wicked Cool!" He nods,nearly reaching out to touch it, but pulling his hand back as Sir Serra puts it back upon his chest. "Yes, Sir. I think we might be already beginning. Jurin found us! It is very good he caught up with us, isn't it, Sir?"
Serra: Kastor works diligently as Serra talks, nodding at the appropriate places. Finally, he stops and looks up at the knight. "You know, Sir, if only there were time, I would say a visit to Graeme was in order. Your armor grows tighter through the shoulders, and is too big here, in the middle. Do you think it's from carrying the ranseur all the time?" he grows silent as Serra offers a way for him to be even more useful on this journey.
"I would be honored, Sir. I do worry that I may not do it justice, but I will do my very best. Helen believes this is the 5th Crusade, Sir. She says that this is either the beginning of the end for us, or for the demons on Golarion. Maybe she will help me with my journaling. She has very good penmanship."
Serra: Kastor falls into step with Serra as he goes about his duties, whistling along with the knight. As Serra pauses, Kastor offers, "Perhaps I should polish your armor before the meeting with the Queen this after, Sir. I wouldn't want her thinking you had a shoddy squire seeing to you." The boy peers at the armor,as if trying to see himself in it.
Serra: Kastor helps Serra with his armor, chattering about the queen and all the knights that traveled with her. "There were so many, weren't there, Sir? One could hardly walk without stepping into one. Isn't it exciting? Lift, please. Thank you. What should I pack for us for the trip? There really isn't much time, and will you be able to read to us on the way too? I wonder if Helen and her uncle will want to go too?"
Serra: Kastor gulps as Cole
Serra: Kastor gasps, then slaps a hand over his mouth. He stares oggle eyed at Cole, then at Serra, wondering what power he may have kept silent about.
Serra: The young boy, already standing out of the way, copies the actions of his elders, first going stiff and standing as tall and still as he can, then relaxing when Serra does. An audible sigh whispers from his lips at the sight of the queen.
"She's beautiful" he whispers; but it is likely to low to be heard by many. The knights close enough to hear have the kindness to overlook his slip.
Serra: Kastor covers a giggle with an unconvincing sneeze as the The Widow Draella flutters about. "uhm, perhaps I should go scout closer, Sir? See what there is to see? I would hate to get lost looking for lavender."
Serra works, crafts, and teaches. Serra: Kastor watches as Serra crafts, dutifully trying to help by grabbing and fetching as needed, but young boys are not meant for such tasks, and eventually he begins to ask questions. "What are we making? It really doesn't look like much right now, does it? Oh, but I'm sure it will be great when it is done. When will it be done again, Ser? Can we read afterward? My friend said she would come this evening, but maybe we could read before then too? How long does it take to make...what is it we're making again, Ser?"
Serra: The young veiled child scuffs her feet and then leans in to whisper, "It's me, Sir, Helen. From Neathholm?" One multifaceted eye peeks out from a slight tear in the veil.
"Don't you recognize me?" Kastor blushes as Serra points out his lack of education as well. "about knights, though, right, Sir?"
Serra: Kastor spends much of his time with Serra, though he also spends some time running about the 'Heart with his friends. He is sure to be back each night and sits with his friend, the little veiled girl, as Serra reads from his books. At the end of the second night, she waits until the others leave and tugs on Serra's sleeve. "Thank you, Ser Serra. Do you think some day you could show me how you read from the book?"
Serra:
Kastor gathers close, listening to Serra read. Soon he is joined by one, then two, then several children cluster, listening to his tales of the First Defense of Lastwall. One girl, hunched close, and wearing both a hat and a veil,sits close to Kastor, his hand resting lightly in hers. A few adults stop by as Serra reads, listening to the tales before going on again with their work. At one point, the literate knight looks up to see Amber listening in. She quirks a grin and tips a nonexistent hat, then heads back to her work. Sitting next to him are several of his requested scrolls.
Serra: Kastor smiles, catching his lord looking his way. " we can make a lot of things better. Like we did those Helms. They are fine looking helms now, aren't they, Sir? Much more Helmier!"
Serra: Kastor, faithfully attends Serra when they return to the Heart, but his attention often strays to the gate, watching as it rattles with the wind, and as people come in from the battles throughout the day. "Some of them are hurt so bad, aren't they, Sir? And some look so confused. Maybe I should go see if I can help at the door?"
Serra: The boy eventually comes out from behind the door. Shamed face and scuffing his boot, he apologizes to Serra, "I'm so sorry, Ser. I don't know what happened. I could see you and and and, I could see the demons, but I couldn't move. I couldn't move a single muscle."
Serra: Behind the door, Serra can just make out Kastor where he hides, as he was told. His eyes stare wide, but they don't blink or even twitch.
Serra: Kastor obeys as he always does, doing his hop skip thing on his good leg to get behind the wall before before Serra uses the rod. "It's ok, Sir. I'm here. I'm safe. It's ok!" But he's Serra's squire and he can't help but peek, to make sure his Master is ok. The blast does not catch him as it does the others, does not pull his whole body up and make him shine like the sun. But it does catch him, for a moment. A vision of Kastor as he will be, tall and strong, in shining armor, a valiant knight among men. His walk is sure and steady, and his head held high. But it is only a moment, and then the vision is gone, and it is only Kastor's face peeking out again, as angelic as it ever was.
Serra: The boy nods, then peeks around the corner. "Maybe we should, as one unit, go look into these rooms for more demony things?"
Serra: The boy scrunches, then looks at Serra, then back at the words. He hobbles back, then looks back again. "I can't see it from over here. Only from over there. I have to duck my head a bit too." His voice falls to a whisper as he leans up trying to whisper. "I think you have to be gnome height. It's a Tropical d'lusion."
Serra: Kastor stops what he's doing and
Serra: With the unseen servant cleaning, Kastor eventually heads into the next room with the heads and bodies of the slain knights.
"Poor men. To give your life for a worthy cause is the so knightly, but it seems unkind to leave you here like this." Unfortunately, they are too heavy for him to move. Saddened by his failure to pull tem into the shrine, he does the second best thing he can think of, he kneels in front of the prayers of Iomedae and the newly mounted Radiance and says a prayer for their souls.
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