Fantasy A Tide of Flames: a d20 Dungeons & Dragons adventure

Ariel Elandinai
Great Hall, Brindol - Nine bells

Ariel watched the rest of the proceedings, as she leaned against the wall. Lord Jarmaath. then offered the group quarters, mentioning that the local inns would be closing soon.Something Ariel had not even thought of. She could not help but smile at that. There was so much to think of, so much to keep track of, she had never guessed. It was indeed different when you only worried about yourself, or a small group. To worry about an entire city... It was something to remember, when Ariel would return home. She had a new-found respect for such things.

Then once more, things got interesting as Lord Jarmaath mentioned the incident that had happened the last time they were within the cities walls. About Evelios being a Harper or not. What was it about Harpers? It must have another meaning that what she thought of. And Evelois, who had been strangely quiet the entire time, responded...

...In full Evelios fashion. With Poe slapping him on the back of the head, occasionally as well. Ariel gave a wry grin, now, as she watched the others try to follow the Bards's logic. There was a bit of silence, and then Mazarun added, "He gets like this,....Useful in a fight, but I don't ask him many questions unless I have an hour or two to spare." Ariel wrapped her wings around her, her eyes
twinkling. It would be rude to laugh, but Mazarun's statement was both truthful, and hilarious. She
simply watched, as others guessed, various reasons for Evelios's behavior. If they only knew. Even
Lord Jarmaath seemed to be having trouble keeping up with the Bard's verbage.. Ariel found her wings interesting, bending them down to tugg at an errant feather she just noticed, as she tried her best not to laugh at the preceedings. Of course, the mirth did not last too long, as now the subject of the bar brawl came up. Ariel grew attentive once more. She never did know what had happened there. So it seemed that William had made and enemy of some noble house. They must have tried something in the bar, and it came to a head within the bar. The use of the term blood fued made Ariel blink. That usually refered to repise for a death. That would explain the bar quite well then. But since William did not seem the type to just kill for no cause, unless backed into a corner, she had to guess that something indeed went wrong.

Well, so far it seemed as if all issues that would prevent the Company from 'assisting' with the defensive's of Brindol had been put aside for now. They had been offered shelter and protection. And
everyone saw the need to get ready for the hard work that was to come. So far, it had been the most
eye opening meeting she had every listened to. Watching as the different factions within the town, and
indeed neighboring towns came together to a common good. It was nice to see cooperation for a change. Still, Ariel was feeling restless, but she willed herself to stay in control. She at least was able to sit, with wings open, gently flapping as she sat in thought. She imagined soon the Company would get together to decide what actions they would take against the Horde first. She imagined scyring and
various tasks to teach the rest of the townspeople. But Ariel's thoughts drifted to the flying wyrms.
The Dragons. What would they be doing? If she was attacking the city, how best would one use them? Thought she doubted that any actually 'used' them. This was all being lead by the head wyrm herself. She felt they were missing something. Perhaps, it would come to her later. Ariel let her fingers rest against the new sword as she waited for this meeting to end, and to be shown to rooms, where they could refresh themselves, and deal with the next round of actions that they would take on next.


TAG: Company, Saint

 

Zanaek Grahorn

Brindol Keep​

​

He suddenly found his nails interesting when Evelios began to have one of his episodes. Half listening, the cleric could not help but allow an amused grin to cross his features. He wondered if it would be a brilliant plan to simply let Evelios meet with Kharn when they arrive at Brindol and have him talk the Wyrmlord into surrendering. Knowing him, he'd probably succeed.​

​

Zanaek listened as the conversation turned to the bar brawl that had happened during their last visit to the city and was pleased that they would not have to deal with vengeful nobles and their henchmen while they were here. However, he knew that Jarmaath's word really could not stop a House from getting revenge against someone they believed had wronged them. They would be... quieter about it. Poison in a drink or food. A simple trap waiting in his room or a simple spell bringing instant death. And then there would be the easy opportunity of simply stabbing him in the back in the midst of battle. Who could then say that William hadn't been slain by an orc?​

​

We would, of course, but it would be our word against the Haskinar's.​

​

At the mentioning of a chapel to the Triad, Zanaek's attention focused more on the conversation. They were going to be given lodging in the Keep and had access to a wizard's tower and a chapel he had not been aware even existed in the Vale. Torm out in Rhest had been a surprise and to find out that there was a chapel? "I would like to see this chapel immediately," he had asked, quite interested to see how well kept it was. He could probably perform the scrying ritual there under the watchful eyes of the Triad rather than some room.​

​

His attention was drawn to Ariel nearby and noted how restless she was becoming and how she seemed different, he would have to talk to her afterward. Still he could not blame her for her eagerness to leave the meeting. He too was eager to get things done and move on to what needed to be done and relax a little before the coming storm. But unlike him, he knew she wanted to go out and fly. Had she flown at all since they had gotten back? He recalled Ariel having asked for Jarmaath to warn the city's guards and soldiers of her existence but had gotten no reply.​

​

Zanaek frowned at that. It would not do for her to be ignored. Bad enough she was treated a little unfairly by the others. He knew her well enough (and not in that way either) that she was unaccustomed to how grounders thought and behaved. It was why she seemed aloof at first glance. "There is also one more matter I would like addressed before we depart," he said once the conversation had quieted down. His gaze shifted to their winged companion as he spoke, a wisp of a smile at her, "Ariel will no doubt be considered strange to the people of these lands and once word gets out that dragons and a horde of goblins are marching this way, people will be frightened of anything they see in the sky that they don't immediately recognize. I would like word to get to the city guards and soldiers of her existence and not to attack her whenever she decides to stretch her wings. Her kind are much like birds, they are ill suited on the ground and in cages and prefer the freedom of the sky."​

​

TAG: ALL

 

Ariel Elandinai
Great Hall, Brindol - Nine bells

Ariel leaned against the wall, listening to the proceedings attentively. It was nice to hear that they were willing to quell the incident between William and the noble, and that even Evelois was to be extended a courtesy. It would be hard to keep up with events behind the wall, once battle started, and that would certainly be one less thing to worry about.

Ariel fought back a sigh as she curled her wings around her. Her fingers still danced along her new blade, as she thought of the Dragons. She would need to research what she remembered about the two dragons that were left, so she would be prepared for the battle to come. She wondered how her people would handle such things. But then again, they would not have to worry so much about ground troops, as their enemies tended to be those who could fly. But that did not mean that they were totally immune to such things. Fighting with grounders was quite a different task. And grounders with flyers, even more so. She was so deep in thought, that she was slightly startled when Zanaek spoke up.

"There is also one more matter I would like addressed before we depart," he said once the conversation had quieted down. His gaze shifted towards her, as he offered her a wisp of a smile. "Ariel will no doubt be considered strange
to the people of these lands and once word gets out that dragons and a horde of goblins are marching this way, people will be frightened of anything they see in the sky that they don't immediately recognize. I would like word to get to the city guards and soldiers of her existence and not to attack her whenever she decides to stretch her wings. Her kind are much like birds, they are ill suited on the ground and in cages and prefer the freedom of the sky." Ariel was a bit glad to hear that Zanaek had thought of her, if only briefly. She offered a slight tilt of her head in acknowledgement, as she turned to look towards those at the table once more.

It was the most Arel'sha had spoken to her directly in many days. She had started to come to her own conclusions on such things, but perhaps she was mistaken. With so much going on, within such a few days time, it was possible. There was so much more at stake right now, and to bring in any other distractions would not be wise. But after a bit of time in the woods with the other elves, it had helped to center her, and bring in a calmness she had missed. Perhaps now, things would be more clearer to her. Now, she would need to fly and soon, arrows be cursed. Some might take offense at the comment of being much like birds, but considering the birds within the company, and the owls, she would definitely consider the statement a compliment. Right now, she just wanted the meeting over, so she could leave the room.



TAG: ALL

 

Corrath Marktos
Thieves Highway, The Marketplace, Brindol
Ten Bells, Twenty-third of Mirtul, Morning
Year of Scattered Lanterns (1378 DR)

"You could say that," replied Cragg. His eyes were narrow, and his weight was evenly placed on both black-clad feet. "Guess Lord Jarmaath took your warning serious enough, or he had his own sources of information to confirm it. I'm guessing you'd know something about that already."

TAG: Xan

---

Mazarun Zothyrr

The Keepwood, Brindol
Eighth Hour, Twenty-third of Mirtul, Dusk
Year of Scattered Lanterns (1378 DR)

"None that you need kill for," Sellyria answered. She had a thin smile, and her gaze flickered from the drow's shoulders to his unclenching hands. "At least, none that live here. Illian Snowmantle tells us that the Seldarine accuse the drow of holding many secrets, but I do not think this is one of them. Indeed this is a secret I think your own body has kept from you. And your body is subtle indeed. I doubt your clans would have been able to tell it even in you. I can only tell it because I have seen it before, been told of it before."

"You have felt strange here, on the surface, haven't you? I do not mean in the way your people all feel strange under open skies and the canopy of stars - that is simply the product of living beneath the earth, even as I could not acclimatise to a deep cavern in the Underdark. No, I mean a strangeness that even now you could probably only describe as the feeling you were being watched, or a feeling of familiarity. A paranoia of danger. And let me ask you something else: your people, cousin, have certain abilities as a result of being in the Underdark. The darkness; the faerie fire. We have heard these tales. But you, young cousin ... you are something else entirely."

She got up, awkwardly, moving across the small distance between them, kneeling down beside him. Slowly, carefully, she touched at points on his face, hard points where his bones drew close to his skin. "Here. And here. And this line of bone, here. Subtle, as I said. Hard to see unless you know what to look for. Young cousin, it is there. You are not pureblood Illythiiri. Nor indeed pureblood elf. The blood of the fey, of faerie, from the lands your people and mine both voyaged from to the Realms - that blood runs in you as much as elven. And the mark of that heritage is upon you; it surmounts you, your abilities, all that you are."

TAG: Rilwen

---

The party (except Corrath)

Great Hall, Brindol Keep, Brindol
Nine Bells, Twenty-third of Mirtul, Morning
Year of Scattered Lanterns (1378 DR)

"That will not be a difficulty," said Lars Ulverth in response to Zanaek's question. "We've become accustomed to wings overhead - the Speaker's giant owls are often seen over the city as well. One more pair of wings will not attract any more bowshot from my men - I'll see to it, though frankly the tales from Drellin's Ferry would probably keep you safe in any event. The only wings we're worried about right now are those of dragons."
"Many thanks," said Skadi suddenly, pushing her chair back in to the table. "If your men would see us to our rooms, and to this chapel you mentioned, I am sure that will be all."

A guardsman escorted them down a couple of dim hallways, damp and chilly. They found them - eight rooms, decent sized for a small castle, and only a few metres down from the chapel at one end of this wing and the meditation chamber on the other. The party was free to do as it wished now, though Skadi was heading straight for the chapel.

TAG: All (bar Xan)

 

IC: Mazarun Zothyrr
Nine bells, Brindol Keep

Mazarun looked around at their new location with an odd kind of satisfaction. Privacy, a place to sleep, and no need to pay for any of it; there were worse places to be, all up. Maybe he'd even have a chance to get properly, completely clean in the near future; he was sure to feel much better, he thought, if he could get clean. True, he was going to be expected to repay this hospitality with life-threatening battles on behalf of the city, but that was no reason not to enjoy what he had for now.

He glanced over at William and smiled wryly. "I told you I'd give you a look at something; it certainly seems about time," he told the wizard, and gestured toward the meditation chamber, raising one eyebrow queryingly. "Shall we?"

TAG: Cassie, any

---

The Keepwood, Dusk

This was not the tension with which he had greeted Sellyria's announcement that she knew a secret of his. That had been a reflexive readiness for action. This, the tension as she touched his face, was a tension of stillness; jaw set, eyes bleak, limbs locked and motionless to keep from flinching. He endured her gesture in silence and listened to what apparently passed for an explanation from the old elven woman.

Anger came to him first, and he barely kept himself from calling Sellyria a liar. For why would she reveal this, if not to manipulate him? Why would she tell him that he bore fey blood? If he thought himself no pure drow, perhaps she believed she could turn him to other ways, by making it seem as though he should have wanted those other ways all along.

His anger ebbed, leaving something else entirely in its place - though still salt-rimed, perhaps, with fury's tides.

"My face is my brother's face, and my sister's face. My face is my father's face." Mazarun laughed harshly. "Should I be surprised that House My'iryn spiced the pot in exotic ways? It was known already they bred their stock with great care; strong priestesses for themselves, healthy sires for others, to be bartered out into the city to any who cared to pay their price. As my Matron Mother did, knowing in time we would grow, knowing we could be used to recoup that payment a thousandfold. But my father is dead. Whatever fey blood you believe you have seen, it did nothing to save him when his heresy, his defiance, crossed lines that could not be ignored."

He shook his head slowly. "Lady Sellyria, whatever you think you see in me, I am drow. Anything else is merely weight added in the minting, to a coin spent and spent again by House Zothyrr."

TAG: Saintheart

 

IC: William Marshall

The wizard paused, hand on the door of one of the bedrooms, and gave Mazarun a blank look. "...Well, I suppose it's not like we're in a hurry anywhere else for the moment," he said finally, trying to recall what it was the drow had said he'd show. "By all means."

He followed Mazarun into the meditation chamber, looking around at the little room with satisfaction. This was more than adequate - for a travelling wizard's work, at least. Finding a seat, he nodded to his companion as Maeghen landed on the nearest perch.

TAG: Rilwen

 

Mazarun Zothyrr

The Keepwood, Brindol
Eighth Hour, Twenty-third of Mirtul, Dusk
Year of Scattered Lanterns (1378 DR)

The Speaker's answer was prefaced with a shrug as she sat back down opposite him. "I do not dispute that you are of the Illythiiri, young cousin, nor did I seek to discount your bloodline. I merely suggest you may be more. Who we are is more than the place from where we came. And who we are is not merely a sum of our component parts. Do you think I try to rapture you into Corellon Larethian's ways? There are stories, bards' tales, out of the North -- stories of such of your people who have forsaken Ll--she whose name I think neither of us would wish to repeat here. I would not proselytise you so. Even were the gulf between our families not so far, I have done enough damage, in my youth and in age, insisting that my convictions should direct others. No ... I have given you information. What you do with it is for you. I would only caution you with a little more information, things that your sires may not have told you -- that fey blood mixed with that of this plane, even elven as we are, is a strange ... alloy in the minting, here on the surface. The fey are close, closer than we ever were, to the primal forces of the world here. I have heard legends of the fae-sar-ress," she stumbled over the words, though it was clear she was aiming for faerzress, "And I have been struck with the ways in which it is similar and dissimilar to those gifted with a touch of faerie. Perhaps that blood did nothing to aid your father merely because of his location - I do not know. I merely counsel, unwanted counsel as I concede it is, that you may find yourself to be ... different, here. On the surface. And different need not mean less. Sometimes different can mean much, much more - if you are prepared to embrace it rather than bear it as a burden." Sellyria opened her palms.

TAG: Rilwen

 

IC: Mazarun Zothyrr
Brindol Keep, Nine Bells

Mazarun closed the door of the meditation chamber behind him, still with that wry little smile on his face. "My book, paltry as it may seem," he told William, lifting the spellbook from his bag. "You'll be careful with it, I think."

Now, when the time had come to offer it up, Mazarun felt oddly reticent. It wasn't just the magic in the book, or its use to him; a spellbook could reveal much of a person to an astute reader willing to look between the lines of how the book's owner had written out his or her notes. But... he had promised already, and William wasn't likely to take advantage of that knowledge...

He handed over the book.

TAG: Cassie

---

The Keepwood, Dusk

"I cannot afford to rely on such a thing, even here on the surface," Mazarun answered slowly. "I would be weakened by its lack, then, when I returned to the Underdark, and return I must, eventually." A thought occurred to him. "But I think we are not without fey of some kind in the caverns, and if they can survive there..." If this 'different' strength could function underground, he thought, he need not fear that he would grow dependent upon it on the surface, only to lose it again in the caves.

And his father... there were not many bloodlines of any sort that could have saved him from his fate, regardless of Mazarun's initial bitterness at the thought of Nilaonar possibly having this same potential, yet never realising it in time. He sifted through his feelings, weighing them against a steadier balance of logic. Emotion and logic combined to remind him of those who might count on him, those who might need every skill at his disposal, no matter how sudden his discovery of those skills.

At last, he bowed his head a little. "Will you tell me more? Please?"

TAG: Saint

 

Zanaek Grahorn

Brindol Keep

Zanaek bowed his head in thanks to the assembled leaders before following the rest of the party to the new rooms they were to be given. He stood in the hall as the group began to split in various directions, Skadi toward the chapel and William and Mazarun for the meditation chamber.

The cleric, however, stepped over to Ariel and placed a gauntleted hand on her shoulder once their escort had left and all that remained were Evelios and Ragnar. "Are you alright? You seem... anxious as of late. Different, even."

He tilted his head lightly, looking at her. He noticed her shield was missing as was the sword she had been using. He noticed a glass blade rested at her side in its place. "I see you've acquired a new blade. From our Elven friends no doubt?"

TAG: Ktala


Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk

 

Ariel Elandinai
Great Hall, Brindol

Ahh. At last, the meeting was concluded. Glad to note, that she would not have to worry about adding arrows to her wardrobe, Ariel gracefully stood, even as Skadi quickly made her way from the room, followed by the rest of the Company. She was curious about his statement, when he added, "I'll see to it, though frankly the tales from Drellin's Ferry would probably keep you safe in any event." She smiled a bit at that news. So, word had spread. Good words. Something that she sometimes wondered if anyone cared anymore. Well, now it seemed that it did. That lifted her spirits greatly. As the others began to now leave the room, she filed out silently, her wings kept close to her body, as she followed the others, ready to be be shown to their rooms. A guardsman escorted them down a couple of dim hallways, damp and chilly. They found them - eight rooms, decent sized for a small castle, with the promised Chapel and meditation chamber at the end. Ariel smiled softly. As she looked to pick a room, she noticed that Zanaek seemed to be waiting.

Her suspicions were confirmed when he stepped over to her, as she picked a room. He placed a gauntleted hand on her shoulder once their escort had left. "Are you alright? You seem... anxious as of late. Different, even."

Ariel didnt say anything at first, as she simply swept her wings back, looking at him deeply. He in turned tilted his head lightly, looking at her. "I see you've acquired a new blade. From our Elven friends no doubt?" He had noticed.

Ariel offered him a gentle smile, as she touched the blade lightly. "The Tiri Kitor might have watched over the blade, but the Winged Mother's hand was strong upon it, as were the blessing of the Seldarine." Ariel lifted the large Courtblade sword she now carried. Sulsalka. She smiled and gave Zanaek a nod. "As for my mood,.." Ariel grew silent, as she shook her head. "Let us just say, that recent events, haven given me a reason...." Ariel gave him a sad smile. "But perhaps, I will have reason to better my mood soon?" Ariel flapped her gently, as she reached over and opened the door to the chambers she had chosen, slipping off her pack. She turned back around to face Zanaek. "So much has happened of late, that there has not been much time, to speak of things." she said in a softer tone, so that only Zanaek would hear. And there is yet, so much more to follow." She grew silent then, waiting to see what words Zanaek had to say. She did not use the word she wanted to use. He had not. And she did not wish to make him feel obligated. Right now, she was simply happy for the fact that he spoke at all to her.


TAG: CmdrMitthrawnuruodo

 

Mazarun Zothyrr
The Keepwood, Brindol
Eighth Hour, Twenty-third of Mirtul, Dusk
Year of Scattered Lanterns (1378 DR)

Sellyria nodded. "Though much of what I know comes only from secondhand accounts. I've not the gift you have, only what others of my path have passed down over time. And only observance of others who were like you. Chief amongst the strength the mark of the fey gives to you is greater resilience against enchantment. Of course, your people's time below the surface has shrouded you in some capacity for that, but this blood makes it greater still. Other significant talents I have seen in those with this mark are similar to those you already have as Illythiiri; they are innate. They are part of you. I confess I have no experience with that aspect myself, so unfortunately much of that I suppose will require contemplation and perhaps experimentation by you. I know that those of this legacy are able to summon allies from the natural world even as I do with but a thought; that they can flit from one point to another in the blink of an eye; that they can becloud an enemy's mind. You doing such things is merely a matter of thought, practice, and time, if my experience with others holds true."

The Speaker leaned back. "As I said, such things may define you more than you know. I did see such things with others like you. The elves I have known with the heritage sometimes seem closer to fey than elf in outlook, but whether that holds true for Illythiiri I do not know. I suspect this heritage may be why the surface feels strange to you above and beyond what an Illythiir would feel under open sky. As far as dealing with this part of you is concerned, I would offer only one more piece of information: if there is any single thing that the Oak Father and all the gods of nature represent, it is totality. You are here; therefore you have a part to play; therefore you are here. Few, if any of us, ever realise where their place truly is, even with hundreds of years and hundreds of generations of breeding to teach us so. I suspect that is because few of us are given the opportunity to find out where our place lies. I led my people from Suldanessellar in disgrace to this place, in exile, but for all that I am of the conclusion I arrived at the part I was to play. I see your eyes narrow -- again, I do not seek to bring you to the Seldarine's worship. Not all our parts are for benevolence, any more than all our parts are for ill. Nature is both benevolent and malevolent at once, yes? My people do not chastise the lion for consuming the deer, nor for the deer's flight to escape the lion's jaws. Nobanion and Malar are more halves of the same whole, and only part of the totality. The only horror in nature I can conceive of is to know in one's heart where one lies in the scheme of things and then consciously deny that conviction. That was Urikel Zarl's failing, the door he could not go past, and the locked door for which hundreds of men died over three hundred years. Again, I do not propose to tell you what your part is. Only to observe that to have this gift, to find yourself here of all places to learn of this mark upon you, are chances that most of us -- Illythiiri or Tiri Kitor alike -- never have to discover where we are, and where we might go. And I have never known the Illythiiri to discard an opportunity to learn or grow."

She sighed. "I talk too long, as all the ancients do. Forgive me, young cousin."

TAG: All

 

Zanaek Grahorn

Brindol Keep

"Have you eaten yet?" he inquired. Zanaek didn't miss how she was speaking to him and he wondered what he might have done to upset her. "Today's events have yet to permit me the chance to do so. I am famished and I would like the company. You look like you could use some as well."

He glanced down at the chapel briefly and then back to her. "If you would join me for a meal we can talk, say at the tavern in half an hour? I need to inspect their chapel first and get out of this tin can I'm wearing. I don't know about you, Arel'sha, but I feel smothered in it."

He gave her a warm, amused smile.

TAG: Ktala

Probably misspelled the Elven word.


Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk

 

IC: William Marshall and Maeghen

William gave Mazarun a surprised smile as he accepted the book. "I had actually forgotten," he said wryly. "With everything else going on, study was not foremost in my mind... but I am grateful that you remembered."

He opened the book carefully and set it down on a table. "What tongue do you write in?" he added with a brief glance back at the drow as he settled down to get a good look.

"Whatever it is, I'm sure you'll be engrossed for hours," Maeghen put in a little tartly.

"Am I ever otherwise when presented with a new book?" he chuckled with a fond smile, as he stroked her.

TAG: Rilwen

 

Ariel Elandinai
Great Hall, Brindol

"Have you eaten yet?" Zanaek inquired. "Today's events have yet to permit me the chance to do so. I am famished and I would like the company. You look like you could use some as well." Ariel tilted her head slightly, and then offered him a genuine smile. "I.. I would like that very much." she stated with a nod of her head. He glanced down at the chapel briefly and then back to her. "If you would join me for a meal we can talk, say at the tavern in half an hour? I need to inspect their chapel first and get out of this tin can I'm wearing. I don't know about you, Arael'sha, but I feel smothered in it." He gave her a warm, smile.

Ariel gave another smile in response. She flapped her wings, amused. He actually used the word this time. "The tavern? The one we were in last time?" she asked. She thought they would find someplace within the keep to eat. But a chance to walk away, and get some fresh air sounded even better. Ariel nodded. "Why dont We just meet here, and walk together to the tavern? After all, I have spent time practicing some fighting moves with the elves, and I would like a chance to clean up as well."

Ariel nodded, as she gave him another smile, a bit warmer this time. She stepped a bit closer to him. "I look forward to it, Arael'sha." she whispered softly into his ear, and then leaned forward, giving him a slight kiss on the cheek. She waited for his response, to see if her suggestion would be taken, or at least to make sure she had the correct tavern in mind. Her wings flapped slowly, as she waited for his response.



TAG: CmdrMitthrawnuruodo

 

Skadi

Chapel of the Triad, Brindol Keep, Brindol
Ten Bells, Twenty-third of Mirtul, Morning
Year of Scattered Lanterns (1378 DR)

The guardsman unlocked the oak door of the chapel with an old, worn key. The high, thin windows above sparked bronze specks on it as he withdrew it, hanging it back around his neck on a black string of leather. Young and fit though he was, Skadi noticed his jaw tighten as he pulled the door from its stop, a creak like the wail of demons yawning up the hallway.

Lances of white light, and grey dust drifting like flights of eagles in the air. The chapel would only hold about thirty people at most. Its structure conformed to the same basic pattern she'd seen at the Abbey of the Rock: two sets of pews on either side facing a marble altar reached by ascending three wide, flat tiers embedded with a different mosaic of stone - rose-hued shardstone for Ilmater; lapis lazuli for Torm; quartz shot with gold for Tyr. A white font to the right of the altar; a rosewood lectern to the left. High triples of windows cast tridents of morning sunlight on the altar. But other details drew her brows together: dust, everywhere, like a fine grey snow on every pew. No odour of incense, but the no-smell of mustiness and, like a slap in the face, dried ordure: small black droppings of rat between the pews. She could see quite clearly the results of gnawing on a couple of the psalters left waiting on the wooden seats. A couple of barrels, unlikely containing holy water, stood like an afterthought in a corner.

"How long has that door been locked?" she asked into the dusty silence.
"True be told, I don't know, m'lady," said the guardsman. "There's not been a service here since I joined the guard. Mostly we all go to the Cathedral for prayers these days. 'Twas Lord Haskinar's father was the last chaplain here, so I hear."
"Killed in battle?" Skadi glanced down the main pew; there were six-foot slabs embedded into the floor, sure signs that at least some of the faithful had been interred here.
"No, m'lady. Old age, they say."
"I see." She took one more look from the windows above down to the altar, then reached for the first straps and buckles of her breasplate. "I will need several buckets of water. Mops, and a broom. And brushes, if you have them. Along with cleaning rags. And lastly, a small cask of olive oil, and a cap of polish."
The guardsman looked at the chapel, then back at her. "How many servants--"
"Just the brushware, if you would be so kind." The breastplate came away, and she carefully laid it down by the door. "I will take the key now."
The guardsman looked suddenly hesitant. "M'lady, Lord Jarmaath--"
"The key is normally held by the chaplain, is it not?" She held out her hand.
A moment later, he handed it over, and hurried away, her gaze propelling him down the dim hallway. Turning, Sa'adi Adim put the leather string around her neck, and continuing unbuckling her armour.

TAG: Whoever

 

Evelios D'Rtan and the Return of Bard Extraordinaire to the By-line, and Poe the Raven
I don't think this has much to do with the following post, I just had it on repeat.

"So now that that's over, Poe, what do you want to do?"

"... What?"

"What do you want to do?" Evelios asked, his right eyebrow raised.

"Weren't you just... with the crazy... and then the serious... and...?"

"Hmm?"

"I... ... Oh, never mind. I don't know, what do you want to do?"

"I dunno whaddayawannado?"

"Idunnowhaddayawannado?"

"Idunnowhaddayawannado?"

This continued on for a few iterations.

"We should throw a party," Evelios finally offered.

"What sort of party."

"A CRAZY ONE!"

"We can't afford to throw a party."

"Details, Poe, details."

"Rather important sorts of details, I'd argue."

"So's your old man."

"No, he's a bird."

"Third base!"

"What?"

"Satyr butt."

"This is juvenile."

"I know you are but what is pi? 3.1415..."

"No, no, that's quite enough." Poe covered his companion's mouth with his wing. After he was confident that the bard had ceased attempting to list digits, he removed it.

"Thanks Poe. I had nearly forgotten that pi was transcendental and would consequently result in my repeating endless digits with no end in sight."

"Transcen... what?"

"It means that the number has achieved a perfectly enlightened state, Poe. That's just science fact."

"I don't think that's what that-"

"So whaddayawannado?!"

"Not this bit again."

"Third base! Say, where are we anyway?"

"Don't you remember? Some guard came and escorted us to our rooms, and then we were free to do as we wished now, though Skadi was heading straight for the chapel."

"Oh, right, yeah, I was there for that. The walking bit. It involved feet moving. Yes." He tapped the sole of his right boot with his sword. "Feet. Feet good. C'mon baby, do the locomotion. Say, there's a thought."

"What?"

"We could dance if we want to, Poe. We could leave our friends behind."

"Why would we do that?"

"Because our friends don't dance and if they don't dance then they ain't no friends of mine."

"That seems a bit slipshod. Plus, I'm a bird, ergo I don't dance."

"But Poe, everybody's doing a brand new dance now."



Poe looked about as horrified as a bird with no lips could manage to look. "How... how are you projecting that into my mind?"

"Plot de- I mean, that psychic connection thingie we have that we don't use very much lately. Seems like it's been months. Mostly I talk to myself these days. Sup me?"

<<Not much, you?>>

"Not much, man, not much. C'mon baby, do the locomotion."

"No, I refuse to... seriously, this is creeping me out, switch the channel or... whatever it is."

"Kay."



"WHAT THE ACTUAL HELL, EVELIOS?!"

"It's the Alan Parsons Project, man."

"This... I don't... I... who's Alan Parsons?."

"He's some guy hanging around the campfire. Say hi Alan."

<<Yo.>>

"I give up."

"Giving up isn't very krieg, Poe."

"That's not even a word."

"Sure it is. It's orcish, and it's name is Anakin!"

"... What?"

"Let's go bug somebody."

"... What?"

"Right, so, my reasoning," Evelios continued, not bothering to answer Poe's very legitimate inquiry as he walked down the hall, "is that all buildings that have chapels have priests. Ergo, we can go bug a priest, which since I'm a free spirit who worships a really niche music god, is probably like +50 points. High score is within reach, Poe. Carpe diem! Sieze the diem! Translator's note: diem means carp. Or maybe some kind of halibut. In any case it's not sole, which is good, because I need my shoes. Can't very well grab them while I'm wearing them - that'd be silly. And we are 100% serious all day every day around here."

He paused in front of the doorway. "Serious. Serious like the grave. Gravely serious, if you will. That's so serious that if a serious thing and a whosawatsit I lost my train of thought."

Evelios snapped his fingers. "Ah, right, top score. Three letter handle: P-O-E. Stands for Trout Mask Replica." He knocked on the door. "Abbot! HEEEEEEY ABBOOOOOT!!! Who's on first Abbott? Poe, I just realized something. This is not the priest's quarters."

"It's... not?"

"No. This is our bedroom."

And sure enough it was.

"But... I... and we... the hall..."

"No really, look." Evelios opened the door and it was their bedroom.

"But then why did we waste time on tha-"

"I dunno. Hey, let's go bug somebody."

"But didn't we just...?"

"Ragnar, you still around somewhere? I seem to have misplaced myself in a fourth dimension. Or gotten the geography mixed up. In either case I need a second opinion on the works of Zbigniew Rybczyński."

TAG: Penguinator

 

Zanaek Grahorn

Brindol Keep

He was pleased and it showed when she gave him a light kiss on the cheek. Zanaek looked forward to a good, hot meal as he relaxed with the avariel.

"I find that agreeable," he would have said more except for the sound of metal hinges creaking loudly down the hall. His attention was drawn to Skadi and a guardsman opening the chapel and from here he could see what was vexing his fellow cleric.

His mood shifted from pleasant to affronted in a matter of seconds.

A hissed breath escaped him at what he could see of the desecration. Skadi was talking to the guard as she began removing her armor. The man hurried away after giving her the key to the chapel. Zanaek gave Ariel a sorrowful look when he spoke to her. He had a feeling he would not be enjoying her company this morning. "Wait for me, please."

He hoped she would understand.

His hand took one of her own for a moment and he gave it an affectionate squeeze before letting it slip from his fingers as he paced for the chapel. His booted feet passed over the threshold and he paused just beyond the doorway to take in the neglect and disuse of the place.

"Sa'adi," he called quietly, seriously. This was not a time or place for nicknames or any disagreements between them. Here their gods have been ignored and holy ground left to the rats. "How could they neglect this sacred place? I know they worship Lathander but... surely we would not have left one of his chapels to rot had it been the other way around. Would we have?"

He wasn't sure what he wanted in answer to his question. He wanted to be angry at these people but could he blame them? Would the Triad's followers have behaved the same way toward another faith?

He watched Skadi, noting she now wore the key to the chapel. He could see she was set in one of her moods, the kind he had seen when she focused on a foe with an unwavering grim determination until either she was defeated or the ire of her wrath had been smited.

"Sa'adi?" Despite his mature appearance, his youth was obvious in this. He had never come across such sacrilege to the Triad before. He was looking to his fellow cleric for guidance, perhaps reassurance.

TAG: Ktala Saintheart


Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk

 

Ariel Elandinai
Great Hall, Brindol Keep

Zanaek smiled and relaxed as he spoke softly. "I find that agreeable," but then their talk was interrupted by the sounds of metal hinges creaking loudly down the hall. His looked down the hallway towards Skadi and a guardsman opening the chapel, and the smiling face she had missed seeing for such a long time evaporated instantly. A hissed breath came from him now, and Ariel had a feeling that their breakfast was slipping away. She noticed that Skadi was talking to the guard, who quickly began to leave, even as Skadi began to remove her armor. Zanaek gave Ariel a sad look. "Wait for me, please." he told her, and with one last squeeze of her hand, turned and walked towards the chapel.

Ariel watched him walk away, to head into the chapel with Skadi, before turning into her room, and closing the door. She put her bag over to one side, and then removed her own armor. She thought about cleaning up, but then she paused, looking out her door. Zanaek had asked her to wait for him. But, if Skadi and he were to be working on the chapel, it might be longer than he anticipated. Ariel flapped her wings slowly, as she changed out of her armor, and carefully sat down. She had planned to dress a little different, but that plan was now moot. She could go and fly now. But right now, that did not feel right. She really wanted to spend some time with Zanaek....

Ariel looked back at the bed, and then out at her door. She sighed deeply, and pushed her sleeves out of the way, as she tied back her tunic. She did feel a bit better now. She gave another sigh, as she bit her lip for a moment. A few seconds later, Ariel was out into the hallway once more. She took a deep breath, and then turned, and walked towards the chapel area, where Skadi and Zanaek had gone into. The first thing Ariel noticed was the smell ... followed quickly by how the place looked, and that Skadi looked non to happy about how it looked either. Ariel pulled her wings back, as she looked about the room.

"ah..." Ariel tried not to frown. This was harder than dealing with dragons, she felt. Flying was much easier. "She looked back over towards Skadi. "Is there anything I can do to help?" she asked, looking toward the pair of clerics. She wanted to spend time with Zanaek, and right now this seemed to be the only way she would be able to do it. And it would give her mind something to focus on.


TAG: CmdrMitthrawnuruodo, Saintheart

 

Skadi, Zanaek, Ariel
Chapel of the Triad, Brindol Keep, Brindol
Ten Bells, Twenty-third of Mirtul, Morning
Year of Scattered Lanterns (1378 DR)

Something in Zanaek's voice made Skadi look up from undoing the last strap on her gauntlet. It was a voice out of the past; a voice she'd heard sometimes back on the Harpy from a new crewman, at the most dire moments when death sang a major key in the vessel's rigging and blood arced in time with the rhythm of battle. The voice of someone who was uncertain; needed direction. And his face certainly had that look, too, even if the grey streaks in his hair made him look far older than the boy -- no, young man -- he was. Perhaps it was understandable; in the Triad, Torm was subordinate to Tyr, and in combined military operations, the orders of the Triad reflected that status. He was of Torm; she, of Tyr, and senior to him in years as well.

"How and would are for words for the past and future," she said, pulling off the second gauntlet and setting it alongside her breastplate. "But what you really ask is why. You should not. The word is irrelevant. Or irrelevant to we of the Triad, rather. What matters, cleric Grahorn, is that this chapel requires cleansing. We are here to do so."

Skadi glanced to the small alcoves to the left and right of the doorway, at the thin white candles sitting within, nodding to herself. "First, remove your armour, and your tunic as well. I will not have a cleric of the Triad with dust for his sigil. Then see if any Tear oil has been left in the sacristy," she said, pointing at a small door over at the back of the chapel on the right. "The candlewicks in the devotionals will be covered in dust. They will not hold a flame without a liberal application of oil. The scent of Mystra's Tears in the oil should start to deal with the smell. After that, the font. See if the water has been fouled, then cleanse the interior and reconsecrate it with new water."

The procedure, she guessed, would be familiar to Zanaek: she was reciting basic novitiates' work, something that was common to all of the Triad's clerical academies. Nobody forgot the order of maintenance; just about every poor soul to ever make his vows to Torm, Tyr, or Ilmater wound up on their knees scrubbing church floors at one time or another, herself included. She turned to undoing the thigh and shin pieces of her armour.
"By the time that's done, the brushes should have arrived, and we can get to proper work."
"ah..." Skadi looked up again; Ariel was standing at the door, looking a little uncertain about herself and indeed the whole situation. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Skadi restrained herself from rolling her eyes. These two really needed a room. Still -- "Yes, if you would be so kind. I have brushes and rags coming, but before they get here, I will need some help with those barrels in that corner; we will need to remove them from the chapel. After that..." She cocked her head, looking thoughtfully at the avariel--"...yes. After that, would you kind flying up to see whether those windows require dusting? It would be unfortunate to clean this chapel top to bottom only to find the wind blowing dust in here tomorrow."

TAG: Mitth, Ktala

OOC: Mitth, up to you if Zanaek finds anything of interest in the sacristy. This place hasn't been looted, just abandoned.

 

Ariel Elandinai
Chapel of the Triad, Brindol Keep, Brindol, Ten Bells

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Ariel had asked. For a moment, she thought that Skadi would turn her offer to help away. But then, Ariel was pleasantly surprised by Skadi's response. "Yes, if you would be so kind. I have brushes and rags coming, but before they get here, I will need some help with those barrels in that corner; we will need to remove them from the chapel. After that..." Skadi gave her a look, as if thinking. "...yes. After that, would you
mind flying up to see whether those windows require dusting? It would be unfortunate to clean this chapel top to bottom only to find the wind blowing dust in here tomorrow."

Ariel's body language relaxed, as she smiled. "No problem." If nothing else, having a mother who was a cleric, Ariel understood cleaning. Lots of cleaning. It was a daily chore, even among the Avariel. She looked up. Possibly, if the windows opened, some fresh air could make this room smell much better. But that was for later. Now, Ariel looked over towards the barrels that Skadi mentioned. She walked over to them, and tilted them slightly, to judge how full they might be. Should not be any problem to carefully rock them out, one by one, from the room, to leave them in the hallway. As she moved them, she checked to make sure that they were not leaking, as she also checked to see if there was anything written on them, to identify what they held inside. Once she was sure that there were no other barrels to deal with she would fly up to check the windows. If the person bringing the cleaning equipment was back, she would grab a rag, and check to see exactally what was up top, from the ceiling down. A quick scan, using the Winged Mothers gift of sight, would not hurt as well. Ariel also used the time to explore the prayer area of the non elven grounders. Some things were the same, but other things, well to each their own. Considering what was to come, it did no harm, to show another's a bit of respect either. As much healing as she had received from Zanaek, it was a nice way to say thank you.

Ariel hummed softly to herself, as she flittered from spot to spot, checking the area high above as Skadi and Zanaek worked below. Having a room tall enough to fly in, was a welcomed addition to the work. It made her feel better.


TAG: CmdrMitthrawnuruodo, Saintheart

 

IC: Mazarun Zothyrr
Nine Bells, Brindol Keep

"Ah... Draconic, for the most part," Mazarun admitted. "My brother taught me to do so; it's what he uses. He told me it was best to use a language you had to focus on to some degree. The trick, he said, was to know a language so well you'll understand it at the first read, but that it will be just different enough that all of your mind is on the words." The drow shrugged. "A way of putting yourself in the mindset of reading it for study, instead of flying through a text in your birth tongue without necessarily reading it all."

He sat down beside William. "And the parts that are not, I can translate for you as we go."

TAG: Cassie

---

Dusk, The Keepwood

Mazarun listened intently as Sellyria spoke of the abilities that might manifest in him, and made a mental note to be careful about this ability to transport himself if he found the chance to ever use it underground. The faerzress, as all drow knew, tended to do odd things to such spells if not used carefully. Still, it might prove very useful, if he did find himself able to do so, as might the others.

He shook his head a little at her apology for speaking so long. "An interesting account may more readily bear length than a dull one," he commented. "And yours was interesting."

Her philosophy had been strange to him, but for all that he'd found himself thinking there was surely something of value in it, if he could only think over it and sift out any parts that would make sense in his life.

"Thank you for what you've told me." He tilted his head, looking thoughtful. "If I can reach the scholar I mentioned before he departs, I will try to find out where your kinswoman was buried. Even once this is over, you shouldn't have to wait until the civilians return for that knowledge." He barely understood his own reasons for making that promise, but something in him could not help but be moved at the thought of Sellyria's years of sorrow, could not help but want to bring some further news to ease it a little more.

Mazarun rose, offering a hand to help Sellyria to her feet if she wished it. "I should go back. I would not wish to overstay my welcome, generous as it has been already." He hesitated. "Unless... you think perhaps I might more readily come to understand these things you've told me out here, instead of the city?" His tone and expression did not quite match the face value of his question. True, he did wonder if an ostensible connection to nature might better reveal itself in a place like this, but... they had let him walk here. They knew what he was, and they had let him walk here. Cousin, she'd called him, and had raised no hand against him.

He was tired. He was always tired, a cold and solitary weariness that owed nothing to sleep or lack thereof.

Could he be safe here, even a little? Could he rest?

TAG: Saintheart

 

Mazarun Zothyrr


The Keepwood, Brindol
Eighth Hour, Twenty-third of Mirtul, Dusk
Year of Scattered Lanterns (1378 DR)

Even before he'd finished the request, Sellyria was nodding, getting to her feet with his help. "Stay, cousin. Your intuition serves you well - I think you will, indeed, find the answers you seek more plainly here surrounded by wood rather than stone. And a night in this wood perhaps can form some of the thanks we owe you for bringing my husband home. I will be frank, you may receive odd looks from some of my people -- but it will be solely due to your novelty, not the reputation of the Illythiir here on the surface. We judge on deeds, and you have honoured us with your burden. There will be no hostility and no hand or weapon raised against you. That is both my command to my people and my promise to you. Walk as you will within this wood; seek such places of shelter as seems best to you. There are places both for solitude and companionship, should you wish it. Of all the places in this wood, I would ask only you avoid only one: the tabernacle to the Seldarine that is bivouaced in the centre of these woods. I only ask that because that place is forbidden to all the Tiri Kitor, including myself, save for Illian Snowmantle. And certain avariels," she amended with, startlingly, a wink.

TAG: Rilwen

 

IC: Mazarun Zothyrr
The Keepwood, Dusk

All expression upon Mazarun's sharply-cut features vanished in a moment as he heard of Ariel's special privilege. In that moment, he might have been an obsidian statue, for all the emotion on his face. At last he spoke, as though changing the subject, in a tone of polite disinterest. "If you seek one to esteem, Lady, I suggest some one of your folk grants some thanks also to Corrath, for at my request she aided me in gathering up that which I brought here to you." Perhaps irrelevantly, he added, "Her valour, too, is commendable. And Corrath is swift to aid companions who have need of her."

Dropping the subject entirely, he bowed gracefully. "Lady, I leave you for now, to wander and think. To yourself I leave the hope that the sorrows of this night bear some small measure of peace upon their back." His wish was a sincere one; Mazarun had found that he did indeed hope this chance to properly farewell her husband would bring, after its grief, some kind of ease.

Tag: Saint

 

Ragnar Ingvarsson
With Evelios

Ragnar groaned. "Enough. Relax, hard though it may be."

The big man stretched as best he could. He was growing restless.

"Why do we continue to waste our time here?" Because people keep talking? "We should be out fighting, or carousing, or something - anything! - but this."

He wasn't one for diplomacy, after all; that had been his father's realm, and though he'd learned much, Ragnar had little patience for negotiations or tact.

"And that tavern with the weepy man - I'd like to give him a real reason to cry. What was that even about?"

Tag: Ramza

 

Okay... Zanaek finds a set of Bracers of Torm with +2 to Wisdom

Honestly, I have no idea what I'd find in a sacristy anyway besides a holy book and vestments.

Zanaek Grahorn

Brindol Keep

Like the young altar boy he had been years ago, he quickly fell into the instructions he had been given. Within minutes he was without his armor and tunic, carefully placing both in a space that looked cleaner then the rest. Which was saying a lot. At least the spot he chose didn't have fecal droppings and cobwebs. Once his vestments and gear were carefully stowed he headed to the sacristy to find the Tear oil so he could start vanquishing the foul smell that permeated throughout the chapel.

He found the oil hidden away in a small chest and within a capped flask. He uncorked it to check it before heading back out. On the way out he spotted something of interest laying on a small table. He immediately recognized it as a book of prayers and picked it up, blowing off the dust that had collected on it and coughing.

Once his coughs had receded, he inspected the old tome. The gold leafed symbol that had once been etched into the leather had worn away but he recognized the symbol of Torm from the impression that remained. The prayer book was worn and had seen much use in it's day by whomever had owned it. He carefully opened the book to look at the inside cover and was not surprised to find the name of said owner having bled into unrecognizable lettering as the ink faded and spread throughout the parchment over the years. The pages were worn and yellowed and Zanaek had the impression that if he did not handle the book with great care, it would crumble in his fingertips even though the item was not that old.

As he carefully leafed through the pages, he noticed the occasional handwritten note in the margins. At first he felt that the person had committed sacrilege by writing in a holy book, especially in one that had probably been valuable in its day, but as he read the notes he saw not a blasphemer but someone who probably had been a theologian of some sorts or at least a thinker who wanted to understand Torm better. Zanaek wondered what had become of the person and if he ever had his questions and theories answered.

Carefully he set the book back down in its place after dusting the small table of the dust. He coughed again from the cloud he created and made sure the book would not be blanketed in dust again. He would come back and take the book later for study, for now he had a chapel to help clean. The Tormite cleric picked up the flask of oil and headed back out into the main chamber to find the candles. He looked up at Ariel as she busily hovered above them. He could see she was happier by just having enough room to take flight in and he was glad she offered to help. It made the morning a little less disappointing.

Finding the candles, he cleaned them before applying the oil and lighting them, whispering a soft prayer as he did. It reminded him of his youth when his foster father was teaching him the Tenth-day sacraments before the congregation arrived. He didn't get to light the candles himself until he was older and taller, but he had been allowed to speak the prayers. “This candle represents our strength, the light that shines which is our potential...” he recited quietly and continued with each candle until he was finished and the essence of the Mystra's Tears began to overcome the smell of years of neglect.

Zanaek completed his task and did not hesitate to move on to the next, past experiences in caring for a church guiding his feet and mind.

TAG: Ktala Saintheart