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8 Arodus, 4714
It feels strange to be keeping a journal again. The events of the past few months are many and yet I have no idea where to begin in the telling.
And in truth, after all the pain my previous writings brought about I do not feel entirely comfortable with this.
Naella insists I pursue familiar routines but
I have made mistakes. I have made terrible mistakes and those I love have paid for it. When we began our work in the Greenbelt, there was so much promise, so much hope ahead of us. And all too quickly things fell apart for us. After what hap
Too many complications. There were too many complications blurring matters of right and wrong.
That is why we are here now. My sister and I have always avoided this place. We have always tried to avoid even entertaining the idea of coming here. But both of us have long known that we could not stay away forever. This is where everything began for us. Where everything went wrong for our family.
Truthfully, I dread what we may find. But we cannot continue as we are. We've so many demons haunting our past and know so little of the truth of it all that we had to come.
Perhaps this is where we belong. Perhaps this is where we are truly needed. But knowing what this place has done to our family and to our fa I cannot shake this feeling of unease.
I pray we have made the right choice, Holy Iomedae willing.
It is Starday. We've a bit less than a day before arriving at our destination, but that leaves us with one more night on the road. I am confident of our safety given our numbers and proximity to Kenabres, but I must admit that having old friends would put me more at ease. Night watch never seemed to be too difficult with Marek on t
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Liath's hand paused, the quill shaking slightly over the last few words. He had hoped putting his thoughts to page would help put them in order, but instead it dredged up unwelcome memories and wounds that were still fresh. He closed the almost entirely blank book and put it away. There's hardly enough time to continue before the caravan starts moving again anyway, he thought.
He looked back down the road from the back of the wagon he and his sister were riding to Kenabres. Hronar was still further down the road with his children, Nica and Seamus, all of them finding some relief amongst the other families in the caravan while it was stopped to gather water and trade with the nearby Kellid village. Sioba waited patiently at the front of the wagon for her husband and sons, humming a pleasant tune to herself and the horses and doing her best to ignore her passenger.
The young tiefling smiled softly, trying not to resent the treatment overly much. After all, she and her family were among the few who were willing to take them on. Hronar had outright refused at first, but Naella's assurances, their obvious faith in the Inheritor, and their skill as guards eventually swayed Sioba. And Hronar proved unwilling to challenge her decision. Of course, that didn't mean she felt entirely comfortable with them.
"Brother."
His head whipped around to Naella, returning from a few wagons ahead. She was akwardly carrying a stack of two grain sacks with some difficulty. The stack was working its way loose from her left hand. "Father Dieran wished these returned. He insisted Hronar and Sioba would need it more than..."
Liath had immediately rushed in front of her, quickly taking the sacks from her hands. "I'm sorry, I should have gone with you." he stammered as he returned the offerings to the pilgrims' wagon.
Naella let her hands fall to the side, her mask of calm belying her frustration. "Brother, we've talked about this."
Liath did not turn to face her, keeping his attention to stowing away the grain. "I-I know. I'm sorry." He winced, realizing he had just done it again.
Naella sighed, turning to face their destination. "We'll be in Kenabres tomorrow. And if we're to prove ourselves worthy of joining their number we must show that we can both hold our own. Try to remember." Her rebuke was firm, but gentle, so typical of her tone.
Liath nodded, feeling like a child. "Yes, sister." He carefully measured his words, fighting his worrying instinct. He looked over his shoulder after finishing with the sacks to see Naella tranquilly staring into the distance. He joined her, his eyes slowly widening as he took in the view. "Goddess..."
They could see Kenabres now, a tiny, gleaming speck on the horizon. A tiny glint of light framed by a low-hanging cloud of hazy darkness beyond. It was disconcerting to see such warped reality in the distance while natural blue skies remained overhead and green grass and brown earth underfoot. It was like looking through a crack in a wall into another world.
Both felt a chill in their blood when the weight of it settled in. This was the Worldwound, their ultimate destination.
Liath was lost in the enormity of it all when he felt Naella his hand with her right. They looked to one another, finally taking their eyes from that unholy blight. She asked, "This is what we agreed upon. Right?"
Liath understood the nature of her question. One last chance to choose any other path than this. He hesitated only a moment, and only because he knew whatever his choice was, it would be hers as well. "Yes. This is where we belong."
Both felt uncomfortable with it being phrased as such, even if the priests of their monastery told them as much two months ago. Naella truly wanted to believe the priests' claims of a divine mandate, but she could not help but suspect that the true reason for their proclamation was to rid themselves of the two siblings and the troubles that followed them. And even then, she found it hard to blame them.
They glanced about at the rest of the caravan around them. Many others were just as entranced by the sight, but other drivers kept their gaze on Kenabres itself; a silver torch in the dark guiding their path and steeling their will. More and more wagons began to move once again, towards the final stretch of their journey.
"Let's be off then!" called Hronar. He and the children had already rejoined Sioba on the wagon. He was looking everywhere but ahead, focusing on keeping their sons' attention likewise occupied. Sioba though...the Kellid woman kept her eyes locked on their destination and readied the reins.
The tieflings shared an understanding nod as they hurried back. The wagon was already moving when they got there, no time to wait when all others before and behind were being pushed to hurry. Liath leapt up to the back and seated himself, reaching out to take Naella's hand. He silently cursed himself when he saw Naella's annoyance as she continued to hold out her right hand. He had reached for the wrong one again. He swiftly corrected himself and grasped her hand with his, pulling her aboard. "I'm so-" he started.
"Liath!" Naella snapped at him, more harshly than she wished and immediately regretted it. Liath's face fell. The Kellid family fell into uncomfortable silence.
She sighed, frustrated with herself now more than anything, and silently prayed that Iomedae would grant her more patience.
She placed her arm around her crestfallen brother's narrow shoulders and softened her tone. "It's alright. Don't worry about it. We've plenty of more important matters for that. And we've Armasse ahead of us." She hoped that would liven his spirits. He had always cherished the celebration since their days at the monastery.
Liath leaned into his twin's shoulder. "Do you think we will learn what happened to our great-grandfather?" His voice barely more than a whisper.
Naella held her brother more tightly as the wagon continued down the bumpy road, suddenly feeling like they had been like before, a lifetime ago. "I don't know. Hopefully." She wasn't entirely certain she truly meant the last word.
Liath's gaze remained on the blue skies behind them. "...do you think we'll make it through this?" It was obvious where his concern truly lay within that "we".
Naella paused, at a loss for an answer that was honest and that she could bear to give her brother. She settled. "Iomedae willing."
It would have to do.
The wagons continued onward towards Kenabres; that distant beacon growing more bright as the skies darkened with the coming of night, drawing more and more souls to its fragile light.
I'm so looking forward to more posts. :) Great start!
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9 Arodus, 4714
Enyana Wek slowly woke with the sun's rise, the light gradually brightening her small room and glinting off the painstakingly organized vials, bottles, and beads adorning her shelves. Books lined almost the entirety of the remaining shelf space, as well as a good portion of the floor.
She took a moment to get her bearings, then pushed herself upright and out of bed to begin her morning routine, each movement methodical and practiced. Stretch. Eat a small breakfast. Wash the face. Clean teeth. Dress. Check appearance in mirror. Frown at disheveled hair. Give up once again on fighting with hair and tie it into a bun. Cover it with a hood anyway. Study spellbook. Take stock of items needed for the day's tasks. Everything in order.
She took a deep breath and readied to leave before catching herself. She turned and grabbed the azure butterfly pendant sitting before her parents' portrait on the nightstand. They were a striking couple; a beautiful fiery-haired, green-eyed Mendevian woman clad in a hooded, soft sky-blue robe and adorned with spiraling blue tattoos of Sarkori design and a bald, dark-skinned Zenj man clad in typically bombastic Nexian fashion, with gems adorning his bare brow matching his impossibly blue eyes.
"I'll be back," she promised as she fastened the pendant and tightened her hood about her head, leaving only the face exposed. She turned to study herself, checking one last time before leaving. Everything had to be right. She took after her father, far darker in skin than most even in Kenabres' populace, but both parents showed equally in her eyes, one azure blue, one emerald green. She dressed fairly simply, long robes tripped her up to the point that she gave up bothering. Simple leggins and soft boots, and a modest, soft blue, sleeveless shirt with a tight hood that wouldn't slip and blind her. Two satchels we fastened to her belt alongside her spellbook's case. Enyana rather felt she was more practical than most. "I'll tell you how it went when I get back."
She grabbed her sapphire-capped staff and finally stepped out into the already busy streets of the Gate District and set out for the Librarium of the Black Wing, not dallying to make conversation or peruse the numerous stalls opening for business. She simply strode with singular purpose, the flopping of her hood's short, rounded back undermining her dignified poise just a bit. No distractions for her today.
Not that there were very many distractions anyway. Few noticed her much of the time anyway. She still didn't know whether she resented it or thankful, though she was certain one day should would command respect and attention wherever she want. Yes, one day people would realize her talents and stop and bow in her pre-
She was rounding a corner when her shoulder was struck, spinning her about and nearly tumbling like the notes spilling from her satchel. She steadied herself and yelled out a partly angry, partly confused "Hey!" at the thin, bronze-skinned man running full-tilt down the street in the other direction. The man was already spinning himself, maintaining his speed and direction, and shouting back, "Sorry! I'm terribly sorry about that!" before turning back and continuing his flight down the street. Enyana fumed. The stranger sounded sincere, but she wasn't certain he knew which of the many people currently milling about he bumped into. "Some people..." She continued on her way, mentally reciting formulae and theory to soothe her temper before arriving at Blackwing. Besides, the damned fool was probably going to break his leg anyway. She could have sworn he was jumping a cart when she lost sight of him.
She had managed to consign the stranger to her mental purgatory of mild annoyances when she arrived at the Librarium, its enormous size never failing to catch her imagination nor frustrate her with how little of it she was permitted to access. Soon, they'll give me a position in the halls soon, she reassured herself. She entered the main hall, checking with the similarly dressed librarian currently on shift at the front, who pointed her to the appropriate side chamber. Enyana groaned inwardly. She knew where it was. She wasn't thick.
She pushed her frustration over the abysmally low expectations of others out of her mind and went to the meeting chamber. Few of the other students, most of them her juniors, were already there. She was always early. She ignored the roll of their eyes when she entered. They didn't like her, she didn't feel the need to beg their approval, and they weren't the one she was aiming to impress today. It was Quednys Orlun who had her attention. The aged, hawk-faced wizard was always so serious and dignified, even when he showed any softer emotions he commanded absolute respect. Enyana had taken great pains to emulate him over the years.
The head of the library nodded at her arrival. "Miss Wek. Prepared for today's lecture, I trust." His gravelly voice tended to put many students on edge. Enyana always found it grandfatherly, particularly since he was the closest she had to one.
"Yes sir. I'm prepared to make my presentation whenever you're ready." She was fairly certain she managed to strain any undue excitement out of her voice. After all, this wasn't her "big day" or anything. Simply one accomplishment to lead to the next.
Quendys smiled faintly as ever. Few that didn't know him could recognize it as such. "In a moment then. I'll call upon you when it's time."
Enyana took her seat at one of the long tables with the others. The one at the front of the room, naturally. She placed her books and notes neatly before her as the rest of the students filed in. Most of them were not serving as staff yet, so there was that comfort at least. But still, some of them were already working in the secure wings. Why she continued to be passed over was a question she spent the past year worrying over, but today she was going to prove herself.
"So...Enyana." came an unwelcome voice beside her. She turned her eyes slightly to acknowledge Zakry, offering no more exertion on her part beyond that. "What?" she asked with more venom than she intended to show.
The young Chelish man with the ridiculous moustache (which Enyana was certain he didn't grown on his own) smiled and waved away her irritation. "I was just wondering if you were properly prepared for today. You know to lecture us unwashed masses. I hope we're ready for your wisdom."
Enyana's eyes narrowed. She could see some of the others smirking to themselves behind him and a few others stifling a chuckle behind her. She found it rather hypocritical of them to put this pompous Chelish halfwit forth to voice whatever insecure resentments they bore towards her. She was determined to deny him the pleasure of getting any more of a rise from her. "Pay attention, boy. You may learn something."
Zakry scoffed, but still reached up to check his facial hair. Enyana tried to hide her satisfaction in that small victory.
Quendys cleared his throat and had the last student to arrive close the doors before begining the day's studies. "Now, as you will remember yesterday we were discussing demons and their common ability to teleport across great distances with ease. Today we will examine the various coutermeasures and precautions..."
Enyana glanced through her notes again, mentally reciting the outline of her lecture and the points she would need to cover thoroughly.
"-and to discuss this, Miss Wek? If you will."
Enyana's head whipped up and she rose from her seat, a tad too fast after Quendys' call, judging by the muffled chuckling in the back. She was sure she heard chuckling, at least. She ignored it and went around the table to the master's podium with her chin up. Let them be resentful of their betters. I've no need for false humility in front of this envious lot.
She bowed her head to her teacher as he relinquished the podium to stand aside. She looked at her notes one last time, straightened her shoulders, and cleared her throat to grab the room's attention as she had always seen Quendys do.
Then she looked up and saw that all eyes were turned towards her.
Confidence and certainty promptly fled and left Enyana before the crowd.
Oh gods oh gods oh gods
"Um..." she faltered, shifting back and forth nervously for a few seconds that felt like an eternity. "Yes, demons. As Que-Mister Orlun said, we're discussing demonic teleportation. Countermeasures against demonic teleportation." She coughed, trying to correct her voice, to take on that clear and authoritative tone she had worked so hard to affect. "There are many means available to help prevent demonic incursion or minimize the threat they present. These methods are generally managable only by those with advanced training. However, there are-"
Her eyes kept darting back and forth from student to student. She couldn't simply stare at the back wall, but at least there would have been some escape from those damned, judging eyes. Zakry crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat, utterly smug. That snotty Nadia was leaning close to him, whispering something, she knew. And that infuriating Connor was just staring at her, his expression clearly saying "I know this already, this is a waste of time." Enyana could feel herself blushing intensely, her ears practically burning inside her hood. "-and then there are concerns of cost and resources. Even a city as large as Kenabres must ac- operate under certain limitations. Therefore it is efficient to... important to be efficient in the utilization of-"
She tried to escape to her notes. She knew that looked unbecoming but if it got her through the lecture.... Then she thought she heard a yawn.
"And when you're trying to..." Oh gods, I said "you"! "prevent a demon's escape via teleportation, the spell colloquially known as Dimension Doo-ANCHOR is invaluable. Provided one casting the spell can overcome a demonic target's natural resistance to magic. This is best managed through the drawing of a circle of..." Wait. She panicked. She had skipped ahead. Oh no. Oh please no. She fumbled with her notes, trying to right herself. She knew what she was going to say but it was just beyond her tongue. "A-actually that was incorrect. One must..." She was glancing through her papers furiously for that one magic word that could unlock the jumble of sentences building up in her head. She could hear the sighs before her. Worst of all, a few of them sounded pitying. "I-I...just one moment..." You can still do this, just breathe, stop, and think!
She was on the verge of doing that when she felt Quendys' hand on her shoulder, which sank immediately. She knew it was over and done the moment he stepped up. He cleared his throat, drawing back the attention of those who lost interest in Enyana's display and those too embarassed to watch. "Thank you, Enyana. I believe what Miss Wek was saying was that-"
His words seemed to trail off for Enyana. Even his use of her first name, though she knew it to be an expression of sympathy, felt like a death blow as he took over. Feeling utterly defeated, her head bowed, she started to walk back to her seat. Then turned around three steps when she realized she was walking in the wrong direction. She mentally screamed at herself so she wouldn't have to hear the reaction to that.
She kept her eyes on the floor, avoiding everyone's eyes until she found her seat. She sat rigid, her arms firmly before her, her eyes on the empty spot between them where her notes should have been if she had not left them on the podium. She felt like she was dying.
Zakry leaned over ever so slightly and whispered, "Well I feel like I've really learned something today, if that helps."
Enyana's nails almost dug into the table.
It was surely the second worst day of her life, of that she had no doubt.
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Travern Kalleros did not wake with the rising of the sun, sleeping soundly in a bed not his own. Alika couldn't help but smile at her slumbering client as she went about her morning routine, donning her white cowl and and begining her cleansing ritual before her private altar. She always thought the aasimar's true face showed when he was sleeping. For all his otherworldly looks and charm, he was utterly graceless when he in bed. She felt it actually made him more endearing; he wasn't the pretentious sort, but the nature of his blessed birth did hoist certain expectations he could never completely shed during his waking moments.
The Varisian priestess finished her prayers and rose to quietly took a seat next to him. She had to admit that it wasn't simply his nature that made him a favored client. That improbably slim build should have been absurd to look upon, but coupled with his runner's physique, bronze colored skin that almost shone, and a shock of feathery, snow white hair...he struck quite the figure. And there was that ridiculous grin that always brought that angelic countenance down to earth.
She used to wonder why he bothered coming to the Auroral Chambers when his simply being himself could easily carry him through a casual coupling. Eventually she came to understand that was exactly why he came and paid his own way. So peculiar.
She leaned over the snoring man's face and gently blew a warm breeze over his lips. He twitched slightly, those amber eyes slowly opening, a pleasant smile spreading. Then he saw how much sunlight was pouring into the room.
"Oh Goddess!" His eyes widened in horror, his white eyebrows practically leapt away from them as if startled. Travern bolted upright and scrambled out of the bed, fumbling after discarded clothing. "Late! Don't need to be late!"
Alika sat in place, just a bit confused as she watched him frantically dress himself. "Wait, what do you mean late? You're not due to leave until after Armasse."
Travern fell back on the bed attempting to pull his trousers up. "I'm not going to be back until after Armasse!" He rolled off the bed with a thump, digging about for his shirt.
Alika remained the calm eye of the storm in her room. "You said 'leave'. I remember." she corrected.
Travern's muffled voice came from somewhere beneath the bed. "I may have been a bit drunk." She heard his head bump the frame as he emerged with his boots. "Anyway, I'm blaming you if I'm late which I won't be."
"Oh?" Alika crossed her arms, grinning wryly. "And it's my responsibility to wake you now? Shall I powder your bottom and change your undergarments for you too then?"
Travern hopped to one side, attempting to get a boot on. "Not a chance, you devil." He feigned a loss of balance to fall upon the bed near her, face to face as he continued to fasten his swordbelt, his rapier and ceremonial shortsword already in place. "That costs extra. For luck though? A chaste one though, I've got running to do." He truly was trying not to focus too much on the white linen of her robe against olive skin.
Damn that infectious grin, she thought as she gave him a light kiss farewell. She regretted this parting had to be in such a rush. "Be safe out there, angel."
Travern was still smiling that crooked smile as he stood back and threw his cloak on. Now so many of the trappings he came to shed for a moment were back in place. The fine silk shirt with its flared, feathery cut sleeves, the masterfully crafted chain underneath, the pristine white feathery cloak, even the Iomedaen symbol hanging from his neck, almost everything he had was a gift bestowed upon him simply for being born as he was. "Do I look the part?" he asked, already knowing.
She spared him as much as possible. "Your hair's a mess." And even that seemed to work for his image.
He grinned and took a bow before stepping backwards towards the room's large open oval window. "I said 'Be safe'!" Alika protested.
"I am! This is just the second floor!" he reassured her, leaning back and kicking a straightened leg upward and over him. "Back in a week!" he called out as he fell out of sight.
Alika hurried to the empty window, frustrated by his showboating. He was already dashing away through the crowded streets, his cloak like a single wing trailing behind him. "You're infuriating sometimes, you know!" she called out after him.
Travern raced down the streets of New Kenabres, carefully weaving through the crowd on his way to the Gate District and trying desperately to avoid getting drawn into friendly conversation with the numerous locals that recognized him. He lost track of how many times he said "Pardon", "Excuse me", "So sorry", but felt obliged even as he never touched another passer-by.
He cursed himself for not having time for breakfast, but spotted an open stand in the market square he was dashing through. He tried to remember the man's name. "Simeon!" he guessed, hoping he had remembered correctly as he tossed a few silver pieces ahead of him into one of the man's tins. "Apple!" Simeon-Hopefully's eyes lit up at the returning customer and tossed out two apples as Travern passed. "Good man!" the aasimar called out behind him, having effortlessly caught both without breaking his stride and waving with one full hand. He tucked them both away in his pouch and continued on, pushing back his frustration at the undue charity.
He cut through an alleyway. He knew these streets like the back of his hand, having lived here his entire life. Alright, it's not noon yet. I can still make it, easily. He let his livened spirits carry his step that much more before seeing the old man struggling to roll a wine barrel upwards into a cart. Travern slowed his step and without hesitation moved alongside the old porter behind his load. "Please, allow me." he insisted, pushing the barrel up and over. "How many more?" he asked.
The porter looked back in forth with mild confusion and visible relief. "Oh..uh...just the two over there. But I can g-"
"Right then." Travern kicked himself for his nature as he scooted the next barrel onto the boards ramping into the cart. "Together then?" The old man followed his lead and again with the last. When they were finally secure he turned to thank the stranger to find he was already at the far end of the street.
Okay Kalleros, move! Can't afford any more delays. Just gotta round this corner and you're into Gate Dis- The thought was slammed out of him by the low impact in his shoulder. His momentum carried him further onward as he spun to see who or what he struck, but in his hurry no one in the crowd particularly stood out. "Sorry! I'm terribly sorry about that!" he called out, absolutely sincere but absolutely unsure of who if anyone he should have been apologizing too. No time! This is more important! He turned forward in time to see the empty car in his path, barely having time to jump over both shafts in one leap.
He tried to focus his mind entirely on his destination, pushing out any further distractions between him and his futu- Oh Goddess... He slowed to stop before the grizzled woman seated on a battered rug against the building he had rounded. She looked old before her time, staring despondently with one good eye into the rusty tin in front of her, where her missing legs should have been. Iomedae's longsword was tattoed upon her scarred cheek, backed by a scarlet banner. A makeshift wooden symbol of the goddess shook beneath her hand, her wrist automatically jangling it regardless of whether anyone was looking her way or not. One of the low templars, probably, Travern thought as he backtracked. He eyed the tattoo in particular. One of the ones with romantic notions or seeking absolution, it seems.
He knelt before her, finally catching her attention. She was startled by his appearance as much as his attention. Without a thought Travern had taken out the two apples and placed them into her other hand before dropping what gold he had in her tin. "Keep that hidden and get off the streets for the night, alright?" he whispered before taking off his jeweled, silver holy symbol and placing it around her neck, gently taking her rough wooden one from a trembling hand. "An even trade, if you're fine with it." She stared wided-eyed at him, at a loss for words. "Y-yes m'lord!" So many assumed he had a noble station. Plenty attributed it to him even knowing the truth, frustrating though it could be.
Still, he smiled softly. "Tuck that away for now, and sell it to the finest shop in New Kenabres. If anyone claims you stole it, tell them Travern Kalleros gave it to you." She nodded, her good eye filled with half-unbelieving relief as she tucked it out of sight within her ragged shirt. Travern remained kneeling a moment longer. "What is your name?" he asked gently.
"Orla, m'lord. Orla Jheyn of Kintargo."
Travern clasped her calloused hand. "Then may Iomedae be with you as you were with her, Orla Jheyn." He nodded to where his holy symbol had been secreted away. "And may her sword guide you home, wherever you choose to make it. Thank you, soldier." The wounded templar was still staring at him as he left, still coming to grips with the reality of what just happened.
He didn't continue running for a while, his spirits dulled a bit. But the encounter and the thoughts that clouded his mind kept him moving. I need to get out there. I belong out there with them.
He eventually found his pace once more, making his way to the main avenue for a straight dash to North Gate. The guards recognized him and checked him through with little pause. They all knew him.
And just a brisk walk past the walls he found his company. The small contingent of the Order of the Sunrise Sword was begining to mobilize. He had made it in time after all. Thank the Inheritor.
He approached, arms held wide as he called out to the men and women he would be joining as they set off to scout the Worldwound's borders. A few of the generally dour company seemed in unusually good cheer to see him before their commander stepped forth to meet the aasimar. Ashus Streigher clasped Travern's hand in greeting, only the barest hint of a smile showing on the Iomedaen warrior-priest's somber face. "Ah, you've made it."
"Time to spare, I hope sir." Travern eased into formality. "I must apologize if I've he-"
"Kalleros," Streigher interrupted. "There's been a change of plans."
Travern's spirits fell. He knew what was coming and he knew there was no changing it now. "Oh no. Sir, please don't tell m-"
"Yes," Streigher said firmly. "Word came down from on high that you are to remain in Kenabres. You're not to be endangered on something so routine as this."
Travern caught his protest in his throat. He knew it would do no good. He could not quite hide his frustration with the situation though.
Streigher clapped a hand on his shoulder. "And frankly, Kalleros, I agree with their judgment. You're too valuable here. You know that you're a potent symbol to many of the people here. A general takes stock of all his resources and considers where they might best be used, and son, you are needed amongst the people. Not out in the Wound."
Travern shrugged and sighed, turning his eyes to the heavens, half hoping the gods would argue on his behalf. "I could do more good out there..."
Streigher did a poor job masking his doubts in that claim, though Travern thanked him for the effort. "I'm sure you could do well out in the field, but we all have our place in this war. And we have plenty of martyrs and broken soldiers already." The commander clapped him on the shoulder one last time before turning his company.
Travern stood in place for a moment before calling out, "Commander. If I may ask, who sent that order?"
Streigher paused a bit before answering. "Who else?"
Of course it was him, Travern thought sourly.
Travern watched the soldiers be on their way. The soldiers he had struggled to join for the past several months. The horse he was to be assigned pulling a supply cart was just the insult to the injury.
He turned to look upon the Worldwound's roiling darkness hanging beyond the river. He wondered how much longer he was expected to wait and do nothing while his brothers and sisters in arms continued to die. Damn it, Dad.
He looked to the sky again, still hoping for an answer.
A great introduction to this character! I assume he is a paladin of Iomedae or at least a cleric (I may have missed that information while reading)? The party seems to be well stocked with divine characters, then.
I loved how he very much embodies the noble ideal of compassion. And, oh, the interactions with Liath will be something to look forward to! Aasimar and Tiefling Paladins, that'll be something. :)
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A great introduction to this character! I assume he is a paladin of Iomedae or at least a cleric (I may have missed that information while reading)? The party seems to be well stocked with divine characters, then.
I loved how he very much embodies the noble ideal of compassion. And, oh, the interactions with Liath will be something to look forward to! Aasimar and Tiefling Paladins, that'll be something. :)
They're hitting it off but we're both predicting some tension in the future. It's Naella I'd be keeping an eye on there though.
And yeah, we are not hurting for divine characters or healing in this campaign. :D
Also have to ask, is this too dense so far or about right? I'm still gauging what details to cut out to keep things readable but I also don't want to gloss over all the detail that went into actual play. (and kicking myself for not fully describing the Auroral Chambers for example)
Aiming to have our last member introduced by tonight. :)
Oh, hell, no, it's perfect so far. Please continue in this style. The more details, the better.
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Deidre finished ushering the small caravan out of Kenabre's South Gate after carefully double-checking their carts one last time. Security was more important than speed, and she knew the senior guard managing her was watching carefully. All sorts came and went from the city for any number of reasons, be it hope, desperation, ambition, opportunism, or simply daily business upon which the city survived. Ensuring that those with ill intent didn't make it through the walls was critical. No one wanted another Red Morning Massacre on their hands.
"Deidre! Over here!" the old guard called. Bandren was weathered and beaten but still going strong. He had been showing her the ropes the past week after her assignment to this position, and while not everything he said seemed immediately useful, he certainly knew the job. He was looking down the busy road, his eyes on one rider approaching, just off the road. "You need to follow my lead on this one."
Deidre gave Bandren a puzzled look as she squinted at the figure. "Is it trouble?"
Bandren snorted. "You can never be sure with that one. Just don't stare. Or antagonize her."
"Uh, sir?" she started, completely lost now. Bandren waved for her to be silent as the rider drew near. Diedre could see why she was told not to stare.
Atop the large bay, white-legged horse rode what Deidre thought to be a beast of a woman. Muscular and scarred, wearing rugged leathers and furs, and tanned from the sun, she did not look like the sort for cities. One look at her eyes, scarred face, and enormous battleaxe suggested she wasn't even the sort for civilization. The spiraling blue markings all over the exposed skin of her arms and the wild, fiery red hair suggested Sarkori descent. She certainly matched the image of the wild warriors of Old Sarkoris at least. Most unusual was that the entire right side of her head was shaved clean, the scalp tattooed with the stylized profile of a snarling wolf. Deidre could almost swear she saw a scar hidden within the wolf design...
Bandren elbowed her. She was staring. The Kellid woman dismounted, leading it up to Bandren. She looked older than Deidre initially thought, seeing her closer to the senior guard now. Deidre boggled at how huge the woman truly was now that she was on her feet.
"Chellaigh", Bandren said. "Good hunting then?" The usual warmth was missing from Bandren's tone. It seemed less friendly small talk and more like feeling out a trap, seeing if it was ready to go off.
"Been better," the Kellid answered just as coolly. "Going in."
"Right." Bandren leaned over and made a show of seeing the load slung over the horse's back. It took at least two deer to account for that much venison. He hoped she had gone far afield to find it, but even if she had...
"Priests will have to check it. You know the rules." he said as neutrally as possible.
Chellaigh snorted and led her horse to the side within the gate after Bandren. Deidre noticed the man letting a sigh of relief slip out when Chellaigh followed without protest. She wondered just why this one woman had them walking on eggshells when she turned back to her duties. Her eye's met Chellaigh's as she turned, freezing her in place. The Kellid's dark brown eyes were feral, primal wells of anger even as the rest of her face remained expressionless. Deidre quickly turned away, sighing herself when the woman finally passed.
Chellaigh did not exchange pleasantries with the Iomedaean cleric serving at the gate, regardless of his warm welcome. Nor did she hide her scorn for him as he examined the meat she brought in, saying his little prayers to his foreign god that brought so much trouble to their land. The priest was Kellid himself. That did not help his case in her eyes. Another kinsman who abandoned the old ways. The priest gestured that all was fine. She took it and left without a word or a look back.
She continued on her way through the streets of Gate District, past the market stalls and peddlers raking in coin for good, clean food. Onward through New Kenabres, keeping to the back streets and away from the gawking crowds of descendants of foreign crusaders and those who forgot what it meant to be Sarkori. Then upwards to Ring Disctrict, keeping to the edges as she rounded the interior walls. And finally "home".
The Waller Slums, a narrow line of shacks and poorly built houses squeezed between the great wall of Old Kenabres and the drop to the cliffs bordering the West Sellen River, with the Wounded Lands ever present beyond those waters. This was where the poorest and most desperate lived, in the remnants of the first Sarkori refugee camp of Kenabre's earliest days, trapped in the shadow of the Temple of Iomedae towering above them in Old Kenabres. Chellaigh found it to be an apt picture of her people, trapped between the crusaders and the demons.
Some Wallers came out with her arrival, some following her quietly as she took her kills to a longtable in the middle of the slums. She unloaded the venison and hides onto the table, took a cut for herself, and left the rest without a word. She let the others sort out how they wanted to split it if they did at all. She told herself she didn't care.
She continued onwards until she reached her shack, built against the Old Kenabres wall. It barely qualified as even a shack. But it was empty when she found it, so she took it. She kept nothing inside it that she didn't carry on herself, so she didn't have to worry about security. Even if she did, her reputation might have been enough to deter theft.
She hung up her bow and propped her axe against the wall, finally allowing herself to drop and rest, working the ache out of her shoulders. As she sat against the Old Kenabres wall, looking outside her door across the Sellen, staring into the Worldwound, she allowed her mind to wander to things that once were and things that could have been.
Her fingers wandered to the three smooth stones she wore about her neck.
She angrily stopped herself and turned over to get some sleep. She had to be up and alert that evening.
She closed her eyes to the sight of red lightning striking upwards at the sky within the corpse of her homeland.
And there is the muscle of the party. Nice! At first I thought that the female guard at the gate would be the last party member. :p
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The sign never came.
"Right then." Travern turned in place back to the city. "No use sulking." He put on a false smile, hoping his spirits would grow into it. No doubt his father was expecting him to return to the manor and have it out. Well he could wait. After all, Travern had Important Work to do in town. So the city needed a symbol. Well then he need to be visible and the taverns would be crowded tonight. He even considered heading right back to the Auroral Chambers to pick up where he left off.
He was busy mulling over how to cram his schedule for the night and tomorrow when they caught his eye.
Two tieflings, their nature obvious by their appearance, were being held off to the side of North Gate and questioned by the guards. One was in well kept commoner's clothing, carrying what looked to be a heavy pack, and the other seemed to be a nun. The last detail certainly piqued Travern's interest.
The one holding the pack was pleading with the guards. "Please, I assure you we are members of the clergy. We were both ordained by Mother Sibella at Sanctrova Cathedral." The nun placed a hand on his shoulder, quieting him instantly as she stepped before him. "We will submit to your search. We've nothing to hide." Her voice was crisp and certain where the other's was all emotion, but both seemed equally sincere.
Travern marvelled at how similar the two appeared. Obviously siblings. The shape of both brought to mind succubi and incubi, which seemed quite at odds with how they presented themselves. Both were slender framed, though not unusually so as in his own case. Their skin was a pale, light gray. Their legs bent like those of their probable demon forebears, ending in hooves. Thin hairless tails wormed their way of their clothing. Smooth, curving horns jutted from their foreheads. And both, no, just the nun, had two-foot long bat-like wings sprouting from her back, the sword of Iomedae tattooed on the membrane repeatedly, between each "finger". They were too small to be useful, though she seemed to have a great deal of control over them, currently letting them hang limp, the claws holding her shoulders. Travern had to admit both had a certain androgynous beauty to them. The man, Travern was only sure he was a man after drawing close, seemed hardly much more masculine in appearance.
The nun, he assumed she was a nun, was dressed in white vestments with red trim, a white round-cut coif covering her head and shoulders, leaving only her face and horns exposed. Her skirt was cut on both sides, as was normal to allow for greater ease of movement, but it was probably even more needed with her unusual legs. If the vestments didn't mark her as Iomedaean, the empty scabbard on her belt certainly did.
The man seemed more unassuming in dress. He wore commoner's clothing, though of fine make and condition. His pants only went down to...the second knee? the ankle? Travern couldn't quite recall. His pale tan tunic covered narrow shoulders, and the back poked out just a bit, as if something were crammed underneath. Long black hair fell from his head behind him and before his shoulders, topped by a peasant's long cap.
The scraggly-bearded guard captain motioned for two of his men to step forward, each presenting a set of manacles. "Right then, against the wall." he barked, holding two confiscated longswords in his hand. Oh gods, Travern thought as he picked up his pace, it's Kale. He knew the man to be thorough, but kind he was not; he had a bit of a bully in him. And he did not like tieflings.
The male tiefling looked nervous, but complied, while the woman seemed far more reserved and hesitant. "Very well..." she conceded, turning and crossing her hands behind her like the other.
Travern finally closed the distance. "Oi! Hey, Kale!" He put on the social mask with more ease than he liked as the guard turned, a sour expression on his face. "Sorry! Sergeant Kale. What seems to be the problem?"
"Two demonspawn entering the city, that's what." he said, gesturing at the two being manacled. Travern winced at the term. "We're taking them to be searched and questioned. Standard procedure."
Travern's face made a show of his doubt. "I don't think it's standard procedure to parade visitors through the street as if they were common criminals without just cause though. Certainly not a blessed nun sworn to Iomedae. Now I could be mistaken of course..."
"You don't know she's a priestess. They could be anything. Cultists." Kale lectured.
"Walking through the front door? Showing their condition clearly for what it is? Hardly seems subtle."
Travern had caught the tieflings' attention by now, both of them still turned against the wall but looking over their shoulders at him with gray eyes. That was where the difference between them truly showed for Travern. The man's eyes were pools, open windows to whatever he was feeling, mixed hope and worry at the moment. The woman's though...they were like steel, shielding what she was thinking and piercing those she turned them upon. Much harder to read, that one.
"Doesn't matter, they're tiefs. They need to be checked."
"Oh for the Inheritor's sake..." Travern paced over to the tieflings. He place his hands on his hips and looked each one over, up and down, making an obvious show of it for Kale's sake. "Well I don't see any wickedness. You're not servants of the Abyss, are you?"
The man shook his head, emphatically answer "N-no!' as if he was afraid to even be near such an assertion. The woman merely narrowed her eyes at him. That was answer enough.
Travern turned back to Sergeant Kale. "Seems legit! No need to embarrass them."
Kale scowled. He didn't appreciate the Kalleros brat sticking his nose where it wasn't wanted, but he knew what one of Kenabre's favorite sons could do to his career if pushed. "Fine, be it on your head. But they still need to be searched."
"Within tactful boundaries, I hope?" It was more a reminder than a request. Kale merely grunted and shouted at the others to finish.
The guards merely frisked the two, and even that seemed to make the man uncomfortable. The woman seemed to focus on the wall until it was done. When they found nothing, they turned their attention to the packs. They dumped out their belongings without too much care, drawing worried looks from the man once more. "Please be careful with that!" The guard he shouted at was holding up a strange backplate of steel armor, adorned with ornamental stylized angel wings, turning it over in his hands and examining it curiously. The woman quietly hushed him.
"Nothing!" one of the guards eventually called out. The tieflings visibly let out a sigh of relief. Travern suspected he saw disappointment on Kale's face. "They're good to go in now, I think?" the aasimar said, smiling that insufferable smile.
Kale grumbled. "Get your things and get inside." Travern coughed. "Don't forget their swords." Kale gave him an withering glare before handing the two blades over to another guard. "Return them and have them be on their way." he ordered before stalking off muttering, "Godsdamned pitspawn."
The aasimar nodded politely to the other guards as they replace the tieflings' belongings and went back to their duties, thanking them for their work as he approached the two tieflings, both of them looking between themselves and at him, curious about the stranger willing to do them that kindness. "My apologies on behalf of Kenabres to the both of you." he began, starting into an exaggerated bow when the tiefling man quickly came close and took his hand, shaking it profusely. "Th-thank you, sir! Thank you so much for your help!" Travern was a bit surprised. The man was more...excitable than he'd initially assumed. "Iomedae bless you! We are in your debt!" Ah, Travern realized when he saw the awed look in the boy's eyes. The aasimar thing.
Travern clapped him on the shoulder. "It's alright, honestly. Just passing through." he assured him, managing to free his other hand as the boy hurried over to the packs. Travern turned to the nun. She was more restrained, but still he could see those high expectations and assumptions in her still eyes.
She clasped her hands over her holy symbol and bowed slightly. "As my brother said, we thank you for aid. But wouldn't it have been wiser to have us questioned?"
Travern shrugged. "Eh, maybe. But it doesn't seem necessary in your case." He pointed at the symbols of Iomedae both wore, neatly evading his real concerns.
"That's very trusting of you." she replied, her expression guarded. Travern couldn't tell if that was a compliment or a criticism.
The man was his knees behind them, fretting over a battered copy of the 11 Acts and worriedly extracting every bit of grass for fear of staining.
Travern gave up trying to read the woman's face before continuing that line of discussion, opting to introduce himself instead. "Sorry, Travern Kalleros. Anointed blade of Iomedae at your service." This time he got to finish that playful bow.
The priestess bowed her head again in return. Her cool tone only grew ever so slightly warmer. "Well met. I am Naella Samathran, priest of Iomedae, at yours. And this is my brother."
The man rejoined them, both packs in his arms, bowing his head as well. "Liath Samathran, sir. Anointed blade of Iomedae. Again, you have our gratitude." Liath was eying the aasimar with even more awe now, knowing that he a paladin as well as angel-kin.
Travern tried to turn aside the admiration. "Ah, well then Sergeant Kale should have simply had you look yourselves over then. I'll have to file a complaint." Travern's forced cheer died down when neither seemed to find the humor. Liath actually answered with complete sincerity, "I'm afraid I wouldn't have been ab-"
Naella coughed, cutting her brother off as she slung her pack back on. "I must apologize, but we must really be on our way. We've need of room and board before the night and hope to attend Sunday services."
Liath nodded, quickly fastening his own pack. "'Tis true. We mustn't be late."
"A bit late for that I'm afraid...it's well past noon and the Temple isn't holding regular evening services so that preparations for Armasse can begin," Travern said. Naella looked mildly disappointed, but Liath looked downright crestfallen. "Oh..." Liath softly mumbled.
"Uh...they will have smaller services throughout the week though. Iomedae won't begrudge you one missed Sunday." Travern reassured him.
"Were you able to attend this Sunday's service, Travern?" Naella asked in utter innocence. "What are they like here in Kenabres?"
Travern's eyes widened a moment, feeling uncharacteristically guilty being asked the question by someone he still had to assume was a nun. "Uh...noooo. Unfortunately I was tied up elsewhere."
"Ah," went Naella, in a manner Travern found frustratingly hard to read.
"But look, you still need room and board and it's getting well into the afternoon. I'd love to help you there, if you would allow me." Travern's spirits had grown into that smile now. These two were very curious indeed, and getting to know them could easily eat up the evening. "In fact, I daresay I can get you a room at the best inn in town."
Liath's eyes lit up. "Thank you! This is very kind of you sir!" Naella put a hand on his shoulder, stilling his cheer, "We can make do with more humble arrangements. 'Twould be unwise of us to spend beyond our means." Liath's face fell once more, embarrassed for letting their meager funds slip his mind.
Travern pushed on. "No worries. I guarantee you won't have to spend a single coin this night. Just follow me!"
Naella started to protest "But..." Liath took her hand to lead her after the man. "Come Naella, he's an aasimar! We mustn't look askance at a gift from one such as he!"
Naella frowned, but conceded, following the two through the gates of Kenabres, waved through by the guards who had searched them earlier. She gave them a cool glance, he offered a warm and easily forgiving nod and smile, even as none returned the gesture.
Travern smiled to himself and listened closely as he stepped out from under the stone wall and into the sunlight. Just as he thought, the two gasped when they finally saw Kenabres.
And the first group of PC's has met up. :) Very interesting interactions, I wonder how the other PC's will join them.
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Enyana was absolutely certain this was the second worst day of her life.
"I know you're frustrated, Enyana. But there is a proper procedure for moving forward with your studies and station here." Quendys Orlun said from behind his desk, Enyana seated before him in his study. Usually she loved this room, with it's tall bookcases climbing towards that distant ceiling painted with the stars and heavens, but now it mostly made her feel small.
"But Master Orlun, I am ready for advanced studies! You know I'm thorough and attentive! You know I'm not haphazard in my experiments!" She was sure he doubted her, even after all she had done to prove herself.
Quendys raised a hand both to quiet her and stay her worries. "Now Enyana, I know you're a good student. You haven't been passed up for advancement because of that."
Enyana immediately leapt to her next suspicion. "Social grace is not necessary for excellent service to the Librarium."
Quendys quirked an eyebrow at that admission. "I..." He rubbed the bridge of his hawkish nose. "That is not it either, Enyana. There are many considerations that go into these decisions. And not all of them are matters you can control."
"Then what is it?!" Enyana shouted, immediately covering her mouth, shocked and ashamed by how petulant she must have sounded.
Quendys sighed and considered her for a moment before standing and walking to one of the room's many bookshelves. "Politics." he mumbled, tracing a hand down a row of books until he found what he sought.
Enyana stared at him, wondering at what he meant. She couldn't help but feel that Quendys had been evasive with her during this conversation. Possibly for far longer than that.
The head librarian returned with an old leather-bound book. "Jandele and Moira would both be proud of you. You know that, right?"
Enyana nodded slightly. She truly hoped that was the case. Quendys did not speak very often about her parents. Sometimes she wondered if he mourned them more than she did, and wondered if that made her a terrible person. Sometimes she wondered if she truly believed they were dead.
"But they also wanted you to be safe. When the time comes to move forward-" He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "-and it will, I need to know that you can handle the risks involved with utmost certainty." He placed the book into her hands. She looked upon the cover, her eyes widening in wonder. Architecture of Creation, a treatise on planar structure and portals. This was advanced study!
"I'll need that back in two days time, and I trust any studies going beyond those officially sanctioned by the Librarium shall be kept away from the Librarium."
She was still staring at the book, her hands shaking with barely contained excitement as she emphatically nodded her understanding. "Y-yes, Master Orlun!"
"And I trust there won't be any gloating to other students."
"Of course!" she promised before realizing it. She jumped to her feet, grabbing the man she still considered her grandfather in a tight hug. "Thank you, Quendys! Thank you so much!"
Quendys cleared his throat, standing straight and still as a tree. "Miss Wek."
Enyana caught herself and let go, embarrassed by the utterly unprofessional and unbecoming display. "Sorry. Sir." She bowed, the book held tight to her chest. "Thank you, sir. I won't waste this opportunity." She was already backing up towards the doors.
"On your way then, and don't forget your duties before leaving the grounds." With that dismissal she quickly bowed again, "Yes sir!", and strode out of the door, her pace pushing the limits of what could charitably be called "walking". Her mind was racing with possibilities now. So many that the questions she went to Quendys with had been forgotten for the moment. He knows, she thought. He knows I'm ready and mastering what I have to learn from this will prove it to everyone else.
Her thoughts were floating on a sea of potential when she saw him passing the other way. She quickly hid her smile, not wanting to seem a simpleton, and tried to simply walk by and nod curtly to the handsome, otherworldly, silver-haired elf, Aravashnial. She believed she hid her excitement completely. She hoped she did. His silvery eyes passed over her briefly as he continued on, acknowledging her passing. She thought he nodded at her too. She continued onward until she heard Quendys' doors open before she stole a glance backwards to see the elven wizard step inside. She didn't know exactly what the man did at the Librarium, except that he worked with Quendys quite a bit.
She turned forward again to see two other students complaining amongst themselves as they shelved mundane books of little importance and impact compared to what she was carrying.
"He looks down on everyone. Stop taking it so personal." one said.
The other continued grousing as climbed the ladder to the high stacks. "I'm just saying I'd love to see that pompous ass taken down a notch or two. What's he do around here anyway? Strut around, looking pretty? What's so special about that. I could do that."
"I think he does field work for Blackwing. Dangerous stuff probably. I wouldn't let him hear you talking like that."
"Bah, he's got about as much personality as that E-"
They both fell silent as she passed, her chin held high and eyes slitted, not even acknowledging their existence. She rounded the corner and stopped when she was out of sight, listening intently until she heard a whispered, "Yeah, that about sums it up."
Enyana smiled. She knew jealousy when she saw it and it was thick about them. So, they found this Aravashnial to so disagreeable?
She continued on her way. He must be brilliant.
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She heard them screaming as they were dragged away from her. She reached for them but the still held her back until they disappeared into the black.
The screams didn't stop until she heard the distant fall of a knife.
Chellaigh woke with a start, sitting up to be greeted by the unwelcome sight of the Worldwound in the distance. She hated living here, but she refused to live anywhere that would let her forget what was at stake for her people. As if she could ever forget.
Her sight went fuzzy and she brought a palm to her brow, gritting her teeth. The dreams could bring out the wolf. Her mind was on fire, every thought stung. She sat there, curled against the wall and clutching her head until the pain subsided. She held it a while longer, waiting until she trusted herself enough to stand.
The sky that wasn't over the Wound was growing darker. She needed to move.
She grabbed her axe and set out.
Hm, am I wrong in assessing that we are nearing the point where your group left off their first session? If so, how often do you all play?
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Hm, am I wrong in assessing that we are nearing the point where your group left off their first session? If so, how often do you all play?
The journal's just passed the halfway point of the first short session so far. D: These RP-thick sessions are going to take a while, I think. ;)
We're trying to have a session every week, though our schedule has to be pretty fluid. Hopefully I can catch up once action speeds things up a bit.
Ah, no worries, I like your format just fine. Of course combat sessions are easier to summarize, depending on the encounter. :)
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Travern had to wonder where the tiefling twins had come from, given the way they gawked at the sights and sounds of Kenabres. Well, Naella perhaps a bit less so, but even she stared wide-eyed at myriad peoples that made up Kenabres. The war against the Worldwound drew people from all across Golarion, not just the local faces and races the tieflings knew. From Tien to Garund, the full spectrum of humanity was represented, as well as races beyond that scope.
"Goddess..." Liath whispered. "There are even hobgoblins serving here?"
"Yeah, a few. Sent up from Molthrune some time back. They serve in one of the crusader companies...Flaming Lance I think."
Liath was still staring in wonder when they rounded the corner. He rushed to catch up with the others, his hooves clicking lightly on the cobblestones. Travern was still getting used to that constant sound, and hoped the two didn't notice that they themselves were drawing plenty of stares, most of them not bearing the same innocent curiosity.
And then there were the smells. The markets they passed through were still open and the scent of cooking from all over the world, from Garund to Tien Xia, was represented on the wind today. Travern's stomach growled, remembering that he hadn't eaten anything at all today. The hungry looks coming over Naella and Liath's eyes showed that he wasn't alone.
"Ah, here we are!" Travern pointed at the large, squat stone building before them.
Naella was uncertain of that. "It...looks more like barracks than an inn..."
Travern grinned that crooked smile. "Wait until you're inside before you judge too harshly."
While the open streets of Kenabres were crowded, it seemed even moreso within the confines of Defender's Heart, even with it's large main hall. Naella and Liath glanced about at the mercenaries, soldiers, and adventurers gathered around them, wondering for a moment if this was truly such a wise idea. Travern turned in mid-step, intentionally drawing their attention towards him when he saw some of the patrons turning dark looks the twins' way. "Now! If you'll allow me, I'll see about getting that room. One will do, yes?"
Both nodded. "Of course," Naella said. "'Twould not be right to take more than one with so many."
"Right." Travern caught the attention of a halfling serving girl, sharing a few whispered words before disappearing towards the back of the great hall. The halfling looked up at the two of them then back at the disappeared aasimar before reluctantly ushering them to a table against the wall. "This way please. What can I get you to drink, m'lady?"
As they took their seats next to each other, Naella noted the old scar ringing the halfling's exposed ankle. Yes, Kenabres drew all sorts of people. "Just water, please." she answered gently. Liath nodded likewise. "The same, please."
The halfling paused a moment too long before being on her way, not sure what to make of their manner and dress combined with their heritage. The twins kept their eyes mostly on their table. Liath ventured, "'Tis not as bad as we worried it to be." Naella had to agree. They had feared the worst, but that had yet to show itself. The harassment outside was nothing compared to the stories of the Burners. Certainly nothing compared to the legacy of the witch hunters their father brought down upon them.
"Still we must take care. We've been blessed to meet this Travern, but we cannot assume too many more will be so open-minded."
Liath's head sank. "I know. It's just... I'm having a good feeling about this now." He brushed the hair out of his face, smiling faintly. "I think things are going to be different for us here."
Naella wanted to believe that, but the stares and edging away of many of the other patrons had her more than a bit doubtful. She nodded noncommittally for his sake. She wished she could share her brother's optimism, but leaving oneself so open left one vulnerable. ANd she had seen the effect that had on him.
Eventually, most of the crowd eased back into their earlier festivities. The combination of unfamiliar accents and high spirits drove Liath to steal glances past his sister. Over there, a wild-haired Tien warrior wearing a mishmash of Chelish plate and tiled armor of foreign design listening intently to two hairless barbarians from Varisia over a shared platter of roast. And there, a Garundi priestess of an unfamiliar god pointing out something in an old tome to a what looked to be the Ulfen vision of a valkyrie and a man dressed similarly to the local watch. And there, a laughing gnome with a lute standing atop a chair and encouraging his scantily dressed Keleshite companion to step atop the table, with him beginning to play and her...
He quickly turned his eyes back to the water that had appeared in the interim and kept them there, his face reddened.
Travern finally returned, all smiles at the twins and a lingering eye on the dancing duo in the corner, now drawing a raucous cheer from that side of the room. He quickly turned his eyes back when he noticed Naella's eyes were on him. "Good news!" he clapped his hands as he took a seat opposite the tieflings. "I've talked things over with the owner and have made all the proper arrangements. You have a room for the week!" He opted not to tell them how much negotiating it took to stay the owners concerns. That had taken quite the promise of coin. And tonight he was feeling particularly generous with hsi father's money. "That frees you up to turn your attentions to those other matters you spoke of. Also!" He looked over his shoulder to wave over a serving girl bearing a bottle of wine and three goblets. The tieflings could only stare wide-eyed at the generosity and fortune that seemed to spill into their lap this day.
"Lord Kalleros," Naella said as Travern opened the bottle and thanked the servant with an easy smile. "We are truly grateful for your charity but surely this is too much."
"Oh, it's nothing. And please, it's just Travern." he poured a bit in each of their goblets.
Liath seemed uncomfortable. "But...'twould be inappropriate for us to be so familiar with the nobility so soon af-"
Travern waved his concerns off with a laugh. "Oh no, I'm not a noble! We're just rich." He wanted to stop that before it started. Bad enough they already seemed to elevate him because of his angel blood. "Never had much use for formality anyway."
Liath gave his sister a questioning look. Travern, sitting so casually and at such ease seemed so carefree. He felt guilty for doubting but he had difficulty imagining the man to be a paladin at times.
Travern was in mid-sip when he realized he was the only one drinking. "Sorry, I should have asked. Do you drink?" The two certainly seemed more restrained than most. He worried they'd be joining the Everbright Crusaders for certain, if that company would even accept them. And that lot did not tend to be overly enjoyable company by his estimation.
Naella considered the glass for a moment before answering, "In moderation." She delicately lifted the glass to her lips. Liath seemed more sheepish about it, only taking his glass up in that same graceful manner when his sister placed hers back upon the table.
Soon another servant brought a platter of roast pork and steamed carrots and beans to their table. Travern had taken the liberty to arrange for that as well. He smiled at the twin's reactions, that restraint struggling to mask their obvious hunger. Gods, the smell was getting to him too at this point in the day. "Thank you, sir! Good man!"
To the Samathrans, after months of lean living this was a veritable feast. A true godsend. Travern was just about to begin cutting when the twins simultaneously clasped their hands before them, bowing their heads in silent prayer. He felt caught, paused in mid-slice and feeling a bit guilty in their presence. Especially Naella's...
He quietly put the knife down and awkwardly brought his hands up as well just as the twins finished and simultaneously said "Thank you." to him. Their voices harmonized so well, Travern found it rather eerie.
They cut in, filling their plates and refilling their goblets. Hungry though the Samathrans may have been, they still took that delicate, restrained approach to their meal. Travern hardly considered himself a slob, but the two certainly made him feel unrefined at times. He had assumed they were both country mice, given their reaction to the city, but there was a certain grace in how they handled themselves. He had at first attributed what he saw to Liath simply having what some might call feminine mannerisms, but both of them had an air of refinement that seemed at odds with their seemingly common origins. Naella in particular seemed quite meticulous and mindful of her movements.
They certainly had him curious. "So, where are the two of you from, originally?" he asked before taking a bite.
"Brevoy." Naella said a bit quickly as she sliced her meat into small portions. "He hail from Rostland, originally." Her coif-framed face didn't change, but her voice seemed a bit guarded. She wasn't going to offer any more than that.
Liath gave little more. "I...we...travelled abroad for a time before returning home. Soon after, we came here."
Travern smiled faintly and let them leave it at that, though he did take an alarming note of their slightly pronounced canines when they opened their mouths. He assumed that if they were so taciturn about their homeland that they would be likewise about their reasons for coming to Kenabres. Everyone had their own. But he could learn that in due time. "So, what plans have you for the days ahead? I may be able to help you along."
Naella was just about to voice concerns of being a burden when Liath eagerly interrupted. "We've come to pledge ourselves to Kenabres!" Travern had seen that innocent smile on many a young would-be crusader by this point in his life, but he had rarely seen one so desperate.
"Well...you'll want to be off to Clydwell Cathedral for that. I can guide the two of you tomorrow if you wish."
Naella was raising a cautioning hand, Liath continued, "Thank you! We were also seeking to join one of the crusading companies. We've heard so many tales of the Everbright Crusaders!" Naella lowered her hand, looking defeated.
Oh damn it, Travern thought. "Well, on that you're going to want to take your time." He tried to find a way to put his real concerns gently. "I can vouch for the Everbright Crusaders character but not every company out there is the image of Iomedaean honor." His eyes darted about the room, hoping none of the Flaming Lance were about. "And there are other companies just as storied as the Everbrights that don't follow such a....restrictive path." Truth be told, with their focus on purity Travern had serious doubts they would ever accept the fiend-tainted pair.
Naella had a hand on her excitable brother's shoulder, staying his next question. "Thank you Travern, but we shall not be rushing into such a decision blindly." Liath sank bank into his seat, understanding her words to be more for him than the aasimar. Naella did have to concede to a need for a guide though. "We must admit though that we are not familiar with the current state of Kenabrews. We...could need someone to ensure we don't misstep." She cast a glance at the crowd. "We understand that our kind are not welcome here and that it could be dangerous for us..." Liath's cheer greatly diminished where she never gave hers a chance to grow.
Travern waved his hands, trying to allay their concerns even as he shared some of them. "Oh no, no more than many other cities at least. I know Kenabres has a bad reputation amongst many, but...things have gotten better." Naella rather imagined she saw some bit of shame on the man's face on behalf of his home. "The...Burners and their lot aren't in control any more." He regretting mentioning those fanatics when he saw the wince on both of their faces. Travern hastily continued, "In fact, they've been quite stigmatized. There's even a crusader company dedicated to preventing those sort of things from happening again."
Liath's eyes perked up at that, curiosity lighting them up again.
Naella countered, "But is not the Lord-Commander of Kenabres Hulrun Shappok?"
"Well...yes but he has grown much more moderate in recent years." Travern saw that this was hardly much comfort for her. He quickly added, "And he was never actually one of the Burners as you may know them. Please, I assure you, things are much better now. No "witch"-hunts. The bad old days are in the past."
Naella slowly let herself join her brother in believing him. He certainly seemed sincere, though she wondered how much of Kenabres' nature he truly saw, given his own.
Liath looked back and forth between them, and seeing that neither was immediately continuing, "We were also in need of equipment. 'Twould be unwise to pledge our service with no proper armor."
Travern immediately latched onto the more pleasant subject. "Yes, I can point you where to go with that as well. We have plenty of smiths working every day. I"m sure you can find someone able to forge or modify some armor for..." He caught himself. "You know."
Liath nodded, not seeming to mind their strange anatomy being pointed out. He had a point, so much armor was useless to them given the shape of their bodies unless it was made specifically for them. Naella continued. "We've also business at the Hall of Heroes. We're not quite sure where that is..."
Travern smiled softly. "Of course. I can show you whenever you're ready." He didn't pry. He was overdue for a visit himself. "On the matter of armor...I noticed you have a piece already." He gestured towards Liath with his fork.
Naella's goblet slowed upon her lips as Liath's eyes shifted. "I...we had armor. But we had greater needs." Liath said, his previous high spirits visibly sinking. "The backplate was the only part we couldn't part with." Travern noted the way he glanced at Naella as he said that. There was more there, he thought. Time enough to find out later. Liath continued, "We earned what coin we could helping the caravans during our journey. I believe we have enough to pay our own way there."
Naella spoke up, "'Tis another reason we're grateful for your kindness, Travern. Paying for room and board anywhere even close to this would be living far beyond our means at the moment." Travern smiled and nodded graciously. It was hard to read Naella. She seemed sincere in her gratitude, but he suspected she was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Perhaps that's how tieflings tended to wind up thinking, considering their lot in life.
"Quite alright, I assure you. We're all serving the same cause here, right? So if there's anything I can do to help the two of you get where you need to go, you only have to say the word."
Naella changed the subject around. "If we might ask, how did you come to Kenabres?"
"Oh I was born and raised here. Child of the crusades, you could say." Travern leaned over what remained of his meal. plenty eager to give a bit of himself if that might encourage the two to return in kind. "My parents lived in Taldor originally. They pretty much had to move quickly. That's what happens when an upstanding and highly visible Taldan citizen marries a Keleshite. And a Sarenite at that. Kenabres need them and wouldn't judge them, so they came here. Along with quite a bit of fortune. That helped. Anyway, they both joined the crusade, did their part, earned their place in the ranks, and eventually I cam along. Mom used to boast that her great-great-grandmother had a harem of angels. Still think she was embellishing a bit."
Liath laughed half-heartedly, looking obviously uncomfortable with even thinking of the heavenly host in such a context. Naella merely raised one fine eyebrow. She could see some of what Travern claimed in his ancestry on his face now that she looked for it. The shared features were there, but there was something else too, likely the angelic part, that joined them into something that seemed altogether different.
"So I've had the luxury of being raised by veterans amongst veterans. Path was pretty much laid out for me, but it still felt right to go down it. Wouldn't have been born this way in this place if I wasn't meant to do this, after all." Travern caught himself slipping into melancholy and tried to correct his sails. He didn't want to go there tonight. To the tieflings, he sounded like someone completely accepting of the apparently blessed fate he had been bestowed.
Liath piped up, "You've lived here for so long, then surely you have seen the Armasse celebrations many times over." His boyish excitement had come back full swing now. Even Naella was smiling faintly.
"Oh, of course. It's quite the event every year. Mind, we're a bit more traditionalist about it here than in some places. The parties don't get quite as wild as those I"ve heard about in, say, Absalom or Cheliax. Though I can't say I'd disapprove if we..."
Naella quirked an eyebrow. Travern changed course. "...continued doing them like we do...now. But yes, we have all the old celebrations. The training, the tales..." Liath's eyes lit up at that last detail. His reaction had Naella finally smiling openly for the first time Travern had seen. He found himself rather fond of that unusual sight.
"Sister, we must attend those ceremonies!" said Liath.
Travern couldn't resist following that up. "They'll also have performances at Alodae Amphitheater, some leading up to Armasse, if you two would like to go." He found himself rather wanting to spend some more time with the tieflings. After all, if he was needed more in the city, then so be it. He'd ensure two new crusaders found their place. That it might scandalize his father was simply a bonus.
Liath looked to Naella, grinning and silently waiting for her to voice similar interest. She exhaled and conceded as she reached for her glass with her left hand. "If we've time between our duties, that sounds wonderful Tr-"
Her hand bumped into the goblet and tipped it over, spilling wind all over the table, splashing onto Travern's white sleeve. She hadn't been paying attention. Travern pulled his arm aside and stood up from the table, trying to contain the spill. Naella shut her eyes, silently cursing her carelessness.
"It's alright, it's alright." Travern said, as much to those sitting around them and staring as it was to Naella. He threw another cloth onto the spill. "Don't worry it'll come out. We know a mage..." He stopped when he saw Liath.
He thought Naella would be the one to be upset, but where Liath had just a moment ago been full of excitement and seeming cheer, he now seemed to be completely withdrawn, staring at the spill as if it had been blood. All that earlier joy was gone, replaced by guilt and shame. "I-I'm sorry..." he stammered, barely audible. Naella placed a hand over his, holding it tight. "It's alright." she said softly. It seemed to calm him a bit.
Travern tentatively returned to his seat, unsure of what to say. Thankfully Naella took the lead. "I must apologize. That was clumsy of me. I must be more tired than I thought." She held fast to Liath's hand. It seemed to be the only thing keeping him together at the moment.
"It's...quite alright, really. Perhaps you two should get some rest? They probably have your room prepared by now." offered Travern.
"'Twould probably be best." Naella answered gently. Liath nodded in meek silence. She continued, "Again, we cannot thank you enough for what you've done for us today."
"Think nothing of it, m'lady." he stood and bowed with a smile, offering his hand to help her up. She smiled faintly but did not take it, rising on her own and leading her brother after.
"Shall we see you tomorrow then, Travern." She did look tired, Travern thought, though she barely showed it.
"Certainly. I'll be here in the morning, if you'll have me."
She bowed her head, "Thank you once more. We'll find one of the servants to show us to our room. Good night, Travern, and be well. Come, Liath." Her voice was incredibly gentle with her brother, he thought. Completely bereft of that slight edge of steel that seemed to be present when speaking to others. She handled him like one might a small, wounded animal. Or a delicate, dying flower. Liath followed her quietly, softly adding his own thanks to Travern as they left. If they noticed the mumbled curses and ugly looks from some of the patrons they passed on their way out, they did not show it.
Travern could only stare after them as they went, completely dumbfounded by the change. He reached for the bottle, intending not to let it go to waste, before turning to leave. Just what is going on with those two?
Well. I gather that Liaths attempts at redemption didn't work on a certain someone in a certain other campaign. That'll be quite the story.
Yeaaaahhhhh....
Among other things...
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Enyana quickly hurried up and down the ladder, trying not to get ahead of herself and misplae any volumes that would simply take even more time to correct. Damn that Chelish twit! she thought as she grabbed another handful from the stack of books left to replace. She just knew it was Zakry who dumped this extra work on her as an insult to the earlier injury. No matter. She'd be the one laughing soon as he was left behind in the dust while she went on to much much greater things. Now, two copies of Polymorphologies to the left, sixth shelf. One second volume of the History of Vigil to the right, eigth shelf. Back down.
She tried to lose herself in that rythm, anything to keep her mind off the tome quieted away in her satchel. She wasn't letting that out of her reach. Not with weasels like Zakry about. But it certainly made it harder to resist sneaking a peek...
Every now and then she would whip her head around, her the back of her hood flopping about as she made sure no one was in sight. Most of the other students were gone by now, and much of the regular staff was busy elsewhere. She would work up enough nerve to open her pack and reach for the book, but then the quickly shook herself free of the temptation and hid it away once more. Truly she was a well of indomitable willpower.
Almost there! If she didn't know any better she would almost describe herself as giddy. But of course she did know better so what she was feeling was understandable anticipation for what this book represented. This is what Father specialized in. She remembered the smell of pipesmoke, of glittering stars made by the wave of a hand and lyrakiens called from a far away place to sing sweet songs to her. And with memories of him came memories of her, gentle hands soothing scrapes, telling frightful tales that turned beautiful by the end, and her watchful crow, always looking over her.
She shook herself free of the past. She needed to concentrate on the here and now.
She was almost done, but despite herself she found that she was slowing her pace. Again she looked around. She never was able to catch sight of Aravashnial again. She pondered how best to work the knowledge she would gain tonight into any future conversation with him. Of course she couldn't give away her extracurricular research...but she could imply that she had made some new observations on her own, surely.
It would have to wait until tomorrow, for the last books were finally put away. She pushed the ladder aside and went to be checked out by the librarians at the entrance. The crisp cool air of a Kenabres evening met her as she stepped outside. It would be dark by the time she reached home. That wouldn't have much time to study tonight.
Still, she controlled herself and stepped calmly and orderly down the steps of Blackwing and out onto the streets, turning towards Gate District. She maintained a dignified pace.
Right until the point that she was out of sight from the Librarium, after which she broke into a full run, holding the book close to her chest and the head of her staff glinting in the night as it waved to and fro from the strap on her back.
She made it a fairly decent distance before she came to a wheezing stop. After catching her breath, she settled for a merely heightened pace. Onlookers would be less likely to look, she surmised.
Not that she was overly worried about that. There weren't many people out this late in this part of Gate District. A few odd passersby, a couple of guards passing by the other way, one oblivious drunk that she stepped to the other side of the road to go around. Nothing unusual or worrying, that she could see.
And yet she could not shake that old familiar feeling. That shiver down her spine that told her she was being watched. She kept her pace steady, willing herself to be calm. She had been getting these feelings for the past few years, and nothing ever came of it. She was simply being paranoid. There was nothing to worry about. Oh she knew criminal activity was a thing even in a city like Kenabres. But it was something that happened to other people.
Just keep calm and continue home. We're almost there, she thought.
She heard a footfall echo out and her heart skipped a beat, freezing her in her tracks.
+++++++++++++++++++++++
The scraggly tiefling watched her from the shadows, flipping a makeshift truncheon in his hand, his quill-like hair bristling in the night breeze. This one was dressed like a member of the Librarium staff, a mere student by the looks of her. But even student mages carried more valuables than most, if you could find the right fence. He hunkered down in the shadows, waiting for her to pass by and get just far enough ahead so that he could rush in, strike, and be gone with that staff and satchel. Probably fifty, no, a hundred gold worth in all, he reckoned.
He inhaled through needle-like teeth, preparing to dash out. She'd never see him coming.
The a large, calloused hand clasped over his mouth and slammed his head into the wall.
+++++++++++++++++++++++
"H-hello?" Enyana said, turning where she stood, looking all around her. She couldn't hear anything else, but she just knew someone was out there, watching.
Oh Gods! Or something!
She bolted towards home.
+++++++++++++++++++++++
The tiefling thug felt the world smash into his skull again. For a moment he thought he had forgotten how to see certain colors before he became capable of feeling pain again, and then that was all he felt.
That and the hot breath of a tattooed madwoman in his face. He tried to scream for help, reasoning the watch was better than facing this, but her hand muffled him completely, the elbow of her other arm firmly in his throat and her knee driving into his abdomen, crushing the breath out of him. He was feeling faint now. The red-haired woman kept her feral eyes locked on his as her head tilted, listening to distant footfalls fade away.
Now the only person that could have possibly helped him had run off.
The Kellid woman brought her face right up to his. Gods, he thought he could smell blood on her breath. "Listen, demonspawn. I'm going to let you answer a question with that last bit of breath. If you even try to scream, I'll tear your throat out." His eyes widened even further. The way she bared her teeth when she said it left no doubt to either if or how she would carry out that threat. "Why were you following her?"
Her hand let up, just for a moment. He wisely gasped only the answer. "I wasn't! She was just passing by....I was just...." he wheezed. "Just going to take her bag!"
She punched him in the gut again, driving what air he had managed to grab back out before replacing her hand. She gave a pointed look at the truncheon he had dropped, then back to him. Her scarred lips parted in a snarl as she pulled him away from the wall and slammed him back into it, finally lifting him to hurl him onto the alley floor. She didn't let up for a moment, stomping and kicking. She never gave the man time to draw enough breath to scream out. She kept going ontil she felt something break, and then she kept going. Her world was turning red, a screaming haze washing over her mind and setting every thought on fire.
She had a foot on the man's head, just short of cracking his skull, when she managed to rein herself in. She stepped away, forcing herself to take a breath as she stalked around the tiefling, now a curled up, sobbing wreck of blood and tears. Just a common thug...nothing more, she realized. She had to stop and lean against an alley wall, holding her head in both hands, trying to force the ringing to stop.
The thug stayed where he was, too terrified to try and make a break for it. He wasn't even sure he could run with what she did to his leg. And then he saw the axe on the woman's back, and knew that he was surely dead.
Eventually she shook herself away from the wall and pulled the man up, pressing him back against the wall. He whimpered as broken bones ground against each other. Blood seeped from where many of his quills had snapped off during the beating.
Her voice was a low growl, right in his ear. "You listen, pitborn. You leave Kenabres, tonight. You drag yourself away from here as fast as you can, because if I ever see you again I will leave you scattered in pieces all over this city, and your head will be sitting right in the middle of Market Square. Do you understand?" He could only see one of her eyes from where she was holding him pinned, and it was twitching and wild right next to his own.
He nodded weakly. Chellaigh decided the man wasn't suicidal, so she let him go. He backed away from her, still shaking, keeping against the wall until he was at the end of the alleyway before dragging himself out in a hunched limp. She knew he wouldn't be coming back.
Chellaigh followed to the edge of the alleyway, keeping to the same shadow the tiefling had used earlier, watching him disappear down the moonlit street.
She looked the other way. There was no sign of the girl now. Must be safe at home by now.
She slinked back down the alleyway with a nimble step that belied her large physique. It wasn't until she had made it back into the deepest shadows, completely shielded from sight, that she allowed herself to collapse. She spasmed and curled upon the stone much like her victim had earlier, clutching her brow and trying not to cry out as a storm raged in her head full of stolen fury.
Crikey. Intense character. That one is going to be surely lovely to be around for the two paladin's of the party.
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Hey, I wasn't kidding when I said this party had serious issues to work through way back. ;)
We really don't think we're going to have problems though, after all the talk that went into putting the group together. :)
[Jealousy Intensifies]
Seriously, I'm really loving this AP. :D
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Travern casually strode back to Old Kenabres without much worry, at least for his own safety. He did have to explain repeatedly that he had in fact not been stabbed when other citizens walked by. Admittedly the wine could easily be mistaken for blood in the moonlight, and it did draw the sympathies of quite a few charming ladies. And gentlemen; even if he had no real interest there himself, he certainly appreciated the thought.
When he finally reached stately Kalleros Manor, he found himself wondering if he might just make the best of his night instead. He finally decided against it. Might as well get this over with.
He approached his home, a house he felt far too big for what it housed now, and let himself in. No sense waking any of the help. He closed it with a soft click behind him. The wide halls were softly lit. He could hear a low fire crackling in the study.
Of course he would still be at work, Travern thought as he went forth. He walked in with arms held wide, grinning and announcing, "Father, I've returned from the front lines."
The greying, bearded bear of a Taldan's eyes shot wide in shock for a moment before Travern assuaged his fears. "Fear not, 'tis only wine." he said, gesturing dramatically and channeling his recent associates.
Leandro Kalleros was not amused. "So, spent the day on drink again I see." he leaned back in his chair behind the desk, somehow managing to look down at his son even from that angle.
"That and more besides." Travern dropped into a chair beside the fire, propping his feet up. "In case you're wondering, I got the message." His voice was full of careless cheer. He imagined hiding his frustration behind that irritated his father even more. "At the last possible moment, mind."
Leandro narrowed his eyes. "I was going to inform you last night, but you apparently had some business elsewhere."
"Ah." Travern steepled his fingers, He knew his father knew and he knew he disapproved. Travern half-wondered if it was part of why he kept going. "Yes, tied up all night. Still, I'll have you know I made the best of today's change of plans." He leaned forward towards the fire, warming his hands. "I seem to have fallen into the business of recruitment and orientation, so to speak."
Leandro continued managing his ledger, considering how much of what his son said was flippancy or truth. "So, productive then."
"Very. I hope." Travern's thoughts wandered back to the tieflings. Someone had to watch out for them until they found their feet. Or hooves. "I need to commission a blacksmith for one of them. I was hoping I might make use of your references. He has special needs when it comes to armor."
"Hm..." Leandro glanced up at his son. Of course he would take an exotic under his wing. Kenabres certainly drew them along with everyone else. "You might. I'll ready some references for you by morning, if you're still around by then." He continued on with his work for a time, the scratch of his pen and the crackle of the fire the only things breaking the silence that fell between them.
Finally, Leandro broke it, the gruffness falling out of his voice. "It'll be the 11th soon. Will you be seeing her?"
Travern didn't look away from the fire. "Of course." His voice cracked. He quickly cleared his throat. "Possibly even earlier, but I'll be there then. As always." The flames danced in his eyes, calling forth memories that still left him in awe. Still left him feeling so lacking.
"Best get some rest then."
"True..." Travern pushed himself out of his seat. "Don't work too late."
His father simply nodded as he left.
Travern found himself wondering how many times he had gone to his father looking for a fight to find that neither had much heart in it any more.
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Naella sighed as she fully took in the fairly sizable room Travern had arranged for them. It might not have been opulent by the standards of most, but it was certainly lavish by her estimation. Certainly more than either of them needed. All of the rugs cast about the gray stone floor, the wardrobes they would never need, it even had its own fireplace waiting to be lit. A large window opposite the door opened the room to a view of the Kenabres skyline, now illuminated by the stars of other lit windows along with those in the sky.
They both had a bed as well, of course. That made things easier.
As Liath limply went to his bed to unload his pack, she checked behind the folding screen. There was even a bath, waiting for the servants to fill. Naella was briefly tempted to take advantage of it, to let hot water ease the aches out of both of their bodies. One stolen glance back at her downcast brother and she quickly reconsidered. 'Twould be a temptation. We don't need that now.
She placed her pack upon her bed and went to Liath's side, reaching up with her right hand to brush the hair out of his face. "It was a good day. Tomorrow will be even better." she reassured him.
Liath kept his eyes off of her, keeping them on what supplies they still had, arranged across his bed at the moment. "Do you think they're safe?" he asked softly. Naella knew he was referring to his friends in the Greenbelt. Those that remained.
"I'm sure. They're more than capable of taking care of themselves." She took his hand, holding it tight and forcing him to pay attention. "They'll be fine. We need to focus on the here and now."
Liath quietly nodded. Naella knew he always had trouble not trying to focus on everything. It was part of why they had to leave.
Their hands held fast to each other for a moment too long. Naella finally let go. "We were very fortunate to meet Travern. 'Tis a blessing for certain." She truly hoped so. His intentions seemed pure, at the very least. She was glad to see Liath finally move with some energy when he nodded in kind.
"Yes. We must find some way to pay back his kindness. He's done so much for us simply for taking us at our word." Liath was smiling now. Faintly, but it was there. Naella had to agree with the sentiment. It was refreshing to be treated without suspicion by a stranger. And by an aasimar? One of the blessed? 'Twas truly a godsend.
"We've time to think of something in the days ahead. For now, we should rest." She turned away from her brother, preparing to undress for the night as he did in kind. After she removed the coif, she ran her fingers through her cropped hair, wondering again if Liath grew his so long for the both of them. After the the robe was off she stretched her winglets. They may not have been crammed underneath her clothing but they still felt confined in the modified cut of her clothing. Leggings were the hard part. Even with the modifications they could make, leggings meant for normal people never quite fit right. She then neatly arranged the various elements of her vestments and placed them with care into the nearby wardrobe, finally stealing a glance at her brother that she knew she shouldn't.
His lean and muscular back was exposed. The same faint scars she shared traced here and there across pale flesh, faded but never forgotten. The two short, long healed-over stumps jutting from behind his shoulders still twitched reflexively every now and then. Naella turned her head away to look upon her left arm, still wrapped in its long glove. She sat upon her bed, waiting until she heard him turn in. "Sleep well, Sister."
"Goodnight, Brother." she quietly replied. She waited a moment longer before looking back. He was turned away, either fast asleep or almost there. Finally she removed the last of her clothing and pulled the covers over herself before blowing out the last candle. She nestled in, trying to get comfortable. That was difficult these days. It never felt quite right, feeling it against her and not feeling it.
As moonlight poured into the room, she turned to ensure her brother was asleep. Then she brought both hands above the covers. The right was chalk-white in the moonlight, just as her brother's. The left, an earthy brown, etched with dwarven runes, almost all the way down to her elbow where it joined perfectly with her natural flesh and bone. She tested it again, touching the thumb to each fingertip in order. Even with practice, it still felt disconcerting to see her clay hand's movements but not feel them. It was still better than where she was before, she told herself. Liath had given up so much to get it for her, even as she protested that she could manage. But Liath couldn't simply leave her as she was. It would have killed him otherwise. It was still killing him, to know that she was maimed as surely as he was, and both were equally his fault.
She buried the false hand under the covers, holding it away from her. That cold, constant reminder of her brother's failure and the resentment it nurtured.
Oooh, okay. I can picture the scenario quite vividly how that came about.
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The red haze subsided, the voices of her son and daughter ringing through her ears, her husband calling her back.
Chellaigh lay still for a moment, allowing herself to get her bearings and make certain she was seeing reality before pushing herself to her feet. She stumbled further down the alley, looking for a place to take shelter for the night. She didn't trust herself to make it all the way back across Kenabres.
She wondered once more how long she could last like this.
+++++++++++++++++
Travern rested the back of his head on his arms as he stared at the plastered ceiling, running the events of the day and possibilities for tomorrow through his head. Anything to avoid thinking of yesterdays.
"Naella." he rolled the name around unconsciously. Don't be silly, Travern. That's a dangerous thought. He shook his head free of the notion and turned to sleep. "Sorry m'lady..." he apologized to his goddess and Naella both for the trespass.
+++++++++++++++++
Enyana had laughed at herself for being so frightened over nothing once she made it through the door, her back against it as she struggled to catch her breath. Silly girl. If anyone saw that, you would never live it down!
When she finally calmed herself, she cupped a hand about the head of her staff and chanted into it, as if stoking a fire. The sapphire cap flared with an inner light and she placed the staff through two low-hanging leather loops attatched to the ceiling, illuminating the entire room. She hurriedly lit some candles, cleared some space on her desk, and finally opened the book, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
Immediately she started poring over the tome, from front onwards, weathering through the introduction for fear of missing something she didn't already know. No taking chances with this opportunity. Vague notions about the reality beyond the visible world took solid shape as she covered matters of the material, the ethereal, and the astral. So much of it reminded her of the simplified explanations her parents had given for her constant questions; she imagined this would be how they would have explained matters to her as an adult.
She lost herself entirely to the words, her world expanding with each page. She committed what she could to memory, the touchstones from which she could reference and infer the rest, all the while looking for ways to apply knew knowledge to old. They're going to be so impressed. She had to force herself to get up just to grab some dried fruit and bread. She barely remembered to eat any.
It wasn't until one candle had burned out when she realized just how much time had passed. And how stiff she had gotten, leaning over her desk. she winced as she stood up, fighting the urge to sit back down and continue reading on through the night rather than rest and properly process all she had read.
Then she gave in and continued reading. She now tore through the book, scanning for details that caught her eye, looking for something she could use. Looking for reminders of her parents' words. Until she made it to the Abyss.
She stopped cold, memories of a foolish child's venture out into the wild beyond the Sellen. She could remember so little of that experience, at least in solid detail. That frightened her as much as anything.
Anything except the fact that her parents were lost to the place.
She paused over the book, considering which way to go. She looked over at her parents, seated in a frame upon her nightstand.
She decided she would rather foster pleasant dreams that night.
"Watch me, I'll catch up with you soon enough." she promised with a grin. She gracelessly undressed and blew out the candles, throwing out a few short lived glittering stars to dimly light the way to her bed. The light blue spiral rune upon her back was faintly luminescent against her dark skin under that weak light.
She kissed the butterfly pendant before shutting her eyes, leaving it on for the night. Yes, she definitely wanted good dreams tonight.
+++++++++++++++++
Liath woke with a start, covered in sweat and gasping for air. He had finally broken out of the fever dream, with wicked memories and fantasies stirring up unbidden feelings and desires. He silently cursed his sinful mind and body, wondering if he would ever be able to cleanse himself of such things.
His friends in the Greenbelt had told him he was simply being human. Liath knew it was the demon in him, that wanton beast seeking a deeper foothold in his soul.
The memories were still fresh as he lay in the dark. The Leanan Sidhe's whispers and promises of pleasure even as she sliced into his companions still echoed in his ears.
He quietly slid out of bed, looking over his shoulder to ensure his sister was still fast asleep and trying not to let his hooves click too loudly upon the stone. He took up his sheathed blade and knelt with it, kneeling with his brow to the hilt and burying himself in prayer; calling upon Holy Iomedae to wash away an uncleanliness he knew must have come from deep within himself.
It was worse these days. It seemed to be getting worse all the time, during the journey to Kenabres. He hated feeling this way. And though it shamed him, he envied his sister's greater purity of spirit. He wished he possessed such strength.
He still felt as if his blood were boiling. He carefully stood and moved to the window, opening it to let the cool Kenabres breeze in. It helped a bit. As the night wind washed over him, he stood in awe at the beauty laid out before him. The tiered city of Kenabres, cast in bright moonlight. Pale stone gleamed, cobblestones shimmered as silver, and Clydwell Cathedral stood high above as a beacon. Goddess... He prayed that he could be worthy of this place as it seemed then, not the home of rumored atrocities and certain suffering, but an instant of Heaven made manifest upon their world.
Then he heard her voice.
+++++++++++++++++
Travern quirked an eyebrow when he heard the call ring out through the night, not quite asleep yet. He smiled and lazily managed to salute, wondering how eventful her days must be in comparison to theirs.
+++++++++++++++++
Chellaigh barely raised her eyes from where she was slumped when the distant bellow passed overhead. She turned her gaze back downwards to the back alley stone, wondering where she had been when her people needed her.
+++++++++++++++++
Enyana was already falling asleep with the soft rumble sounded overhead. It was like distant thunder and rain, only serving to gently sing her fully to sleep, a familiar lullaby she had heard since she was a child. A reminder that she was safe here.
+++++++++++++++++
"Naella! Naella, wake up!"
Naella stirred reluctantly at her brother's excited whispers, wondering what could have possibly gotten into him. Still, the sound of his usual, innocent eagerness having returned to her voice had her wiping the sleep from her eyes. She had to know what had restored her brother's spirit during the night.
Liath waved for her to hurry to the window, that boyish grin wide upon his face. She was still trying to get her eyes open as she slowly made her way to the bright window, her pale skin seeming to glow like her brother's under the moon, the iight even shining through the membrane of her wings.
"Liath," she started groggily. "What is it at this hour?"
He could only turn his head back to the sight and whisper, "Look!"
Naella was about to ask "Where?", but the word died in her throat when she saw her. When she heard her.
She flowed through the air seemingly without effort. She looked more like she was swimming than flying at times, a graceful silouette against the full moon in one moment and a gleaming liquid streak of silver against the black of night in the next. To describe her call as a roar or a growl would be to do it injustice. It was not frightful or violent, but soft and beautiful, almost a song. It reverberated across the city, through them. They had heard the stories, but neither of them imagined her as this.
Terendelev. The dragon guardian of Kenabres.
Naella's hand found Liath's, clasping it tight as they watched her.
Liath's voice was barely audible when he could finally speak. "Things are going to be different here. I just know it."
Naella broke her eyes away from the dragon's flight to look upon her brother. There had been a certainty to his words just then that had been missing for far too long. She found herself relieved to see that wonder back in those eyes.
They leaned against each other, intending to watch until Terendelev would finally take her rest.
Things were going to be better. She could let herself truly believe it now.
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:)
Our GM originally described Terendelev's call being a bit like "draconic whalesong". Really loved the feeling that evoked. Unfortunately, since the twins have never heard whalesong... ;)
@Magnuskn: It gets worse D:
I've been waiting for this thread since this AP was announced :D
Yeah, there obviously happened something in the Greenbelt which I hadn't even imagined. Interesting.
You guys already completed your second session or will there be a break in the journal for a few days?
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@Dudemeister, that makes perfect sense too. Although in our case the people of Kenabres would probably be less fond of it at night. ;)
@Tirisfal, hope you enjoy it! We certainly are. :D
@Magnuskn, Yeah, we'll get more kind of scattershot here and there. And yep, second session was done and we'll likely have the third before that one is covered completely. Catching up is going to be a challenge. D:
Speaking of:
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10 Arodus, 4714
Travern strode back into Defender's Heart in the morning., looking about the main hall for a pair he was sure would be difficult to overlook. When he didn't see amidst the early crowd, he worried for a moment that they may have gone off into Kenabres without him. Despite his assurances the previous night, he hoped they hadn't headed out on their own.
He caught a servant's attention, asking if the twins had been seen about. He then tried to hide his frown when she helpfully pointed past the counter towards the back of the hall. Of course.
He found them tucked away like a dirty secret, seated at a table in one corner of the back room. No doubt the staff had requested they sit there. But looking at them now, they seemed to be in much higher spirits than when he had left them, both enjoying their morning meal and chatting freely. He noticed how their tails wriggled behind the seats. Goddess, that's going to take some getting used to.
"I see you're both up and ready this morning." Travern cheerfully observed, announcing his presence as he approached. Naella and Liath both turned to greet him, Naella with that careful reserved smile and Liath with that restored, obvious joy. He wondered what brought about that change, but elected against asking about it for fear of provoking a repeat of the previous night. "Travern! Please, sit with us! There is far too much here for just the two of us. 'Twould be a sin to let it go to waste!"
Travern looked at the offering uncomfortably as he sat and raised his hands in protest. "Uh..." He was used to people giving him things freely but to offer the food off their own plate? That they had been eating from? "Thanks, but..." Liath's face was all friendly eagerness, but it was Naella's eyes carefully observing him that chose his next words. "Just a bit of the egg and and bread will do for me, thank you." he finished graciously. Naella smiled ever so faintly in what he imagined to be approval. He wondered at how jarring the offering seemed alongside the air of refinement they had about them, and the kind of lives they must have led. "Thank you." he managed to find some sincerity after a hesitant mouthful, wondering if it was simply his own upbringing that made him so uncomfortable with it. "So, I know the two of you have plans for the day, but might I recommend a few places?"
"Of course," Naella said. "But we must attend Clydwell Cathedral as soon as possible." Liath nodded emphatically. Both were eager to take the pledge.
Travern smiled. "Entirely understandable. I simply wanted to ensure you were both fitted for your armor as soon as possible. I've taken the liberty of making some arrangements..."
Naella raised a brow, Liath raised everything. "Thank you! We've gone without for so long!"
"Well then, if you're both ready we can go ahead and get started..."
Liath managed to contain his eagerness. "Oh, no. We can wait until you're finished!" he said helpfully. Travern looked back at how much of the unwanted meal was left, and back at Naella's watchful eyes. "Oh...of course."
He couldn't quite tell just why she was smiling, whether in approval or amusement, but he found himself happy to see it.
++++++++++++++++
Aravashnial struggled futilely against the chains that held him fast to the onyx altar, his well-toned chest glistening in the firelight and defiance in his eyes. "You'll never get away with this, you fiend. I will be avenged!"
Zakranius cackled and stroke his mustache, holding the sacrificial dagger over the elven wizard's heart. Aravashnial was by far a more talented mage, but the diabolist had used treachery. "Oh I think I shall! For with your sacrifice my power shall grow tenfold! All of Avistan shall tremble before me!" His laughter could only be described as...maniacal.
Aravashnial glared at his captor, refusing to give him the satisfaction of his fear. But he began to despair, for he was truly doomed. Unless...
"Your power could grow a hundred-fold and you would still be a thousand years too early to face a true master, coward." echoed a powerful, regal voice. Aravashnial's heart soared. His salvation had come.
With a flash of light, reality in the diabolist's chamber tore open as High Archmage Enyana Wek of the Seven Towers stepped across the boundaries of time and space to visit justice upon the foolish mageling, her voluminous robes flowing behind her seemingly without end, a crystal staff capped with a captured star in her hands, and raw magic in her eyes.
Zakranius howled, "I think not, for the forces of Hell itself answers my beck and call!" His voice cracked in the middle of his boast, but nonetheless as he waved his ungainly arms about in the most unartful of motions, fire and brimstone sparked up from the ground around him as devils of all sorts and sizes crawled into their reality. All of them turned their eyes upon the most powerful wizard on Golarion.
Enyana merely smiled and narrowed her eldritch eyes, and with a wave of her hand every minion called forth from Hell was replaced with a frog. Zakranius now knew fear. The diabolist threw himself on his knees before her, "Please, have mercy! I beg of you!"
Enyana raised her chin, looking down at the evildoer as she weighed even-handed judgment to mete out. "You always were a repugnant little toad. Hardly worth bloodying my hands."
Zakranius looked relieved, right up until a wicked smile spread across his face as he whipped a crooked wand out of his sleeve to bring to bear on the archmage. With one single movement of Enyana's finger, the treacherous Chelaxian was a frog like the rest. "No, instead I will send you where you belong." Enyana decreed. With a grand wave of her staff, the dungeon disappeared, all of the masonry giving way to new, lush marshland. Only the altar and Aravashnial remained of what had originally been there.
With a wave of her hand the shackles fell away and the handsome elf was freed. He quickly rose from the altar, rushing to Enyana's side. "Thank you. I thought for certain that death was upon me." His eyes shimmered, his hair flowed like water in the wind, just as Enyana's robes, in a beautiful, synchronized symphony of motion.
"It was nothing." Enyana assured him, drawing closer to his delicate, elven lips.
"No." Aravashnial protested as he drew ever closer. "It was everything." Their breath was shared, they were so close now.
Their lips brushed, as gentle as feathers, as Aravashnial raised his hand to-
Enyana's heavy eyelids slowly opened, her face still split in the wide grin it had held in her sleep. She stretched and yawned, turning over to consider the tome Quendys had loaned her. She was glad she paced herself. And now she could even sneak in a bit more study before needing to check into Blackwing.
She sat up with another stretch, working the night's sleep out and thoroughly enjoying the scattered memories of the night's dreams. She had a good feeling about today. It was quite the sunny morning; already almost as bright as midday.
"Oh gods!" She launched herself from her bed and grabbed the clothes she had discarded last night, dressing herself with great haste. "Late! Late! I can't be late! I'm never late!" Panic had seized her heart. The moment she had donned her clothing, she bolted for the door and took off down the street.
A moment later she came rushing back in for her staff and the book, and quickly set out again.
People passing by turned in mild confusion at the girl wearing her hooded shirt inside-out running by as if there was a fire, but Enyana was far past caring at that point.
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Chellaigh splashed water from the barrel onto her face, clearing her head at least a little. It was getting worse.
She gingerly felt along the length of the scar on her scalp. She always felt as if there were snakes in her skull after she got it, but now it felt like they were about to burrow free. She couldn't put it off any longer. She needed help.
Chellaigh steeled herself as she stepped out into the busy streets of Kenabres. It would be hard enough to swallow her pride and ask him for help without everyone assuming she was a drunkard. She just hoped he would be willing to, after their last meeting.
++++++++++++++++++++
Even as they walked with purpose, the twins still looked about them with awe. Now that they had been fully rested and their spirits reinvigorated, all the sights, smells, and sounds of Kenabres called out to them. From the scent of spices in the market to the rythmic sound of the forges a block away, the temptation to stop and look was almost painful.
Travern could not help but be amused by their fascination with his home as it ever was. It was they who had his interest. He was learning certain quirks of their unusual forms as he walked alongside them. Naella's wings would stretch outward just a bit whenever something particularly caught her interest, possibly unconsciously. Liath's tail would sometimes snake upwards to help his arms straighten the heavy pack on his back.
"That must be useful." Travern observed, pointing for Liath's benefit. The tiefling looked back before realizing what he was talking about. "Oh...ha, yes. 'Tis not quite an extra hand, but it can be very helpful at times. It truly helps with managing armor."
Naella had to boast for her brother's benefit, since he never could. "I never quite learned how to use mine so well. Liath practiced long and hard to be able to do that. What did old Bieran say when you showed him? That you had a bit of vanara in you?" Travern noted how she was beaming at her brother, even as he shyly lowered his grinning face. There was a playfulness in her voice Travern hadn't heard from her before, seemingly recalling happiness from good days gone by.
Travern thought to join in. "Well, it seems that it balances out. You've got wings after all, so it seems only fair th-" He stopped when he saw them both flinch, all their cheer momentarily banished. He quickly realized he had trod upon a sensitive subject for the two. "I'm...sorry. I fear I've said something wrong."
Liath shook free of that dark cloud first, the smile returning, even if diminished. "Please, do not worry. 'Tis in the past." Naella watched her brother closely for a moment longer, making sure he was fine before letting it pass. Travern thought she looked relieved.
Liath didn't let the awkward silent continue much longer. "After we give our pledge, might we visit the temples of Sarenrae and Shelyn?" he asked, that hopeful eagerness now fully returned.
Travern tilted his head, not expecting such a question from him. Looking to Naella only showed a patient smile. He had assumed the two were a bit more...single-minded in their devotion. "Certainly." Curiouser and curiouser, he thought.
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Love the internal fan-fiction Enyana has in her dreams. Sounds about right. ^^
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Enyana's head was bowed in shame, the back of her hood resting against her cheek. She was grateful that Quendys had at least allowed her to have his study to herself to correct her dress.
The head of Blackwing had his arms crossed, considering her. She had expected him to be angry or, even worse, disappointed. That he looked concerned more than anything had her at a loss as to what she should say or do next. "Well, Miss Wek, considering the rarity of the occassion I can't really bring myself to reprimand you without some further investigation." Quendys offered.
Enyana could never quite feign confidence with Quendys. "I-I'm sorry, Master Orlun. I...lost myself in my studies last night. It won't happen again, I promise!" She was deathly serious at that moment.
Quendys had a hard time hiding his amusement, tempered as it was by real concern. The girl was harder on herself than any of her instructors ever were. "Enyana, have you been taking care of yourself? Remembering to eat?"
Enyana nodded.
She couldn't say she was eating particularly well, when there were so many more important things to do.
Quendys steepled his fingers, reading her like a book. "That and a lack of proper rest. Do bear in mind, Enyana, that understanding one's limits is just as important as tenacity. That's always been the case with you, child." His fond smile was visible now, and even as she hung her head Enyana couldn't help but return it, knowing exactly what he referred to. Everyone had been so shocked and worried, but still she came back safely. Even as the scattered memories of that misadventure frightened her, she couldn't help but take some pride in it.
"Yes, Master Orlun. I'll...I'll try to pace myself..."
"See that you do, Miss Wek." Quendys was all business now, reaching into his desk to retrieve three sealed letters. "Now, as you missed the entirety of today's lecture, which I suspect covered matters you've already studied thoroughly, I'd say you have a bit of a debt to work off." Enyana knew what was coming and nearly protested being reduced to an errand girl, but one raised eyebrow from Quendys and it died in her throat. She knew she was being let off easy. "These need to be delivered as soon as possible. I trust you are up to the task?"
Enyana's face almost soured at the obvious attack on her pride. "Yes, Master Orlun." she answered with utmost professionalism as she took the letters.
"Good. On your way then, Miss Wek." He waved her off, turning back to his work.
Enyana let out a deep breath after leaving his study. She expected the worst. The very worst. But even with that relief came more frustration with herself. With these extra duties for the day, she would need to study even further into the night in order to...no, that's what he'must be testing me for, she thought. She continued trying to sort out just how she was going to do all she needed within the day left to her when she saw Aravashnial coming the other way, no doubt heading to see Quendys.
She practically tried to retract her head into her neck, trying not to draw his attention while she was at her worst while also trying to imagine ways of grabbing it. She regretted not daring to catch his eye as he passed, and continued on her way towards a glorious day of menial servi-
"Wek, isn't it?" came the elf's question from behind her. She stopped in her tracks, standing straight as a board. She thought his voice sounded as smooth like a summer breeze upon silk.
She worked up the courage to turn, trying desperately to hide her nervous smile. He was right there, face to face with her now. Enyana never realized just how tall he was now, towering next to her like an angel. "Y-yes?" she managed, adequately she thought. His eyes were silver seas, shimmering in the magical light of Blackwing's halls, and she was finding herself adrift in them.
He leaned forward, over her, a delicate hand reaching around her. Her mind raced. Oh gods, this is so soon! Has he been watching my work?! Does he know I've been watching him?! She felt lost in a dream, and parted her lips.
Aravashnial snapped back, holding a copy of Architecture of Creation. "What exactly are you doing with this?" His voice was imperious, those silver eyes full of disapproval. Enyana's eyes shot wide open, her hands reaching into her empty satchel. He continued the lecture, waving the book in front of her, just out of reach. "I knew Quendys treats you with undue favoritism, but this is far too much."
"Bu-"
"And far too dangerous in the hands of a mere apprentice. You are hardly qualified or prepared to be trusted with the knowledge this book represents."
"Ho-"
"I noticed it was missing from his shelf yesterday. I suspected where it had gone, but I had foolishly hoped Orlun would not let sentimentality endanger the library by giving a tinderbox to a child."
"Quen-"
"Is going to get an earful. He may be in charge here but the security of the Librarium and the safety of the staff is my responsibility." He narrowed his eyes, passing his final judgment. "Even when it means the latter must be protected from themselves. You have errands to run, now be on your way and try not to stumble into any more dangerous tomes on your way. I have a busy schedule as it is." With that he turned and strode into Quendys' study.
Enyana could only stare in shock as he left, still unable to entirely believe what had happened. Her mind processed it eventually, dashing fantasies and hopes along the way, laying to rest the Aravashnial of her dreams.
"Wh-"
Enyana was driven to indulge in something she felt utterly beneath her, the domain of lesser minds."
"What an @$%&*%$!"
++++++++++++++++++
Clydwell Cathedral wasn't as open as the Temple of Iomedae itself, given that it housed much of the area's leadership. Chellaigh's disheveled appearance and manner alone barred her from immediate entry, though the guards did pass her request along to the one she named. She waited, leaning against one of the supporting columns and trying not to show how much pain she was in. From the glances she caught the guards giving her, she knew she was doing poorly at that. Probably think I'm just another addict. Another Sarkori that chose to just slowly die.
Eventually he came, a red-haired Kellid man about Chellaigh's age, but far less aged. Far less worn down. His priestly robes and Iomedaean trappings ill suited him, she thought as she saw the light blue spiral tattoos still adorning his neck and cheek. He walked out to meet her, his face equal parts concern and irritation. "Chellaigh." His voice carried more of the former, at least. "What's wrong?"
She swallowed as much bitterness as she could. "I can feel it again, Fion." She winced. "My mind is breaking up again."
Concern now completely won out. Fion placed a hand on her shoulder, pointing her towards the cathedral entrance. "Alright, follow me." he said as gently as he could without insulting her. He assured the guards, "She's alright to come in. I need to see her." They stood aside.
Even as the world seemed to sway about Chellaigh at times, she made out the details of the cathedral hall as she followed Fion to his chambers. The vaulted ceiling, the looming statues of dead knights, everything seemed to be designed to make her feel small. She hated cathedrals. Her people never sought to imprison the gods in cold stone tombs, she thought. How Fion could forsake the open air and the gods of their land, she could never understand.
They soon arrived in his quarters. A humble room, adorned with a mixture of Iomedaean writings and Sarkori artwork. Familiar knotwork lined the walls, compromised by the integration of the crusaders' culture, but present nonetheless. He hasn't completely forgotten his roots then.
"Have a seat." Fion gestured to the old, rickety chair. Another remnant of the lives they once knew. Chellaigh eased herself down, tilting her head and exposing the shaven of her scalp to the window's light. Fion delicately examined the scar, a worried frown already spreading across his face.
As Fion went about his work, Chellaigh glanced about the room, taking stock of the memories on display upon the shelves. She assumed shame in what was missing. The longsword symbol hanging from his neck brushed against her shoulder, ever prodding her with reminders of how he had changed.
"It's infected. How you're still standing, I'll never understand. You should have come sooner, Chellaigh."
She hissed in pain when his fingers wandered to close to the scar, to the rift that had been cracked into her skull. "You know I don't like coming here, Fion. This place in that damned woman looking down on us all."
Fion sighed. "You come here seeking her healing and still you curse her."
"After everything her followers have done to our people! Yes!" She caught herself stoking the fires in her head, and tried to will herself back into calm. "I didn't come here for her help. I cam here for yours."
Fion continued working in silence. He had given up on trying to explain his faith to Chellaigh a long time ago.
Chellaigh couldn't let the silence continue. "We're the only ones left." she said, the fight gone from her voice. "The only ones from our village that remember who we were before the crusaders came and took it all away." And took you away.
"The crusaders didn't take everything, Chellaigh." He whispered a prayer, holding his hands over the scar. She felt a coolness seep into her head, a soothing balm restoring the surface of her mind. "Don't forget what brought them here."
She narrowed her eyes, turning them upon him. He had put out the fire in her head, but still the anger was there. Only now it was focused and clear. "Do you really think I could forget? I lost everyone to those damned things." The growl was present in her throat, ever present but under her control now.
Fion did not give any ground. He was angry with her now, though he did a far better job of masking it. "I suppose I don't count then." Chellaigh wanted to throw that in his face, to point out how he had forgotten his way. But one look in his haunted eyes and she knew she would hate herself even more for having done it. When she lost a husband, he lost a brother.
She let it go, as much as she could. "Thank you." She said grudgingly, emphasizing the "you". She hated the idea of owing anything to the Inheritor, and it ate at her that she had to live inside her walls in order to survive. "I should go."
Fion had to try, one more time. As she headed for the door, he asked, "Chellaigh, won't you stay and let them try to help you? There has to be something they can do... You're not well."
Chellaigh turned back to him, and Fion was taken aback at just how lost she truly looked. Like someone cast adrift and too afraid to trust any hand offered to pull her out. "I can't trust them, Fion. I just can't."
"But you trust me."
She turned to leave. "Because you're the only family I have left," she lied.
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So if I got it right:
Chellaigh is Wolverine
Liath is Nightcrawler
Naella is Storm
Enyana is Jean Grey
Travern is Angel
Hopefully he can grow into the role though.
Damn, but there is quite a bit of Storm in Naella though now that you mention it...
And the Wolverine and Angel comparisons are so spot on. Especially that last one.