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The tall tales & tragedies of the Chattering Scroll Inn


myrmaad

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Reona stood in her chemise with her arms folded on the sill of the window, watching the calm stars twinkle in the night, listening to the soft cries of animals in the distance. She felt a crisp breeze briefly tickle her face and smiled, her mind slightly buzzing with dizzy thoughts of the alcohol she'd consumed. The cold night crept in, but she didn't care how low the temperature, the sky was aflame with too many stars to count and the animals were enjoying the night just as she was.

 

Rhaine walked below her, and she nearly gave into the impulse to lean out the window and wave, but refrained since she was supposed to be passed out. She watched the woman and horse go inside the stables, and after a few moments, the sounds of animals ceased. Curiously, Reona jumped down onto the ground below and crouched in the shadows, crawling on all fours to make sure she stayed undetected. She climbed up onto the roof and peeked through a large hole where the wood had rotted away.

 

What she saw was strange, a man in a cloak with his face covered by a mask, watched Rhaine just as Reona watched the both of them. After a minute or two, the man spoke, his voice clear and hypnotic, "Fine greetings and blessings to you, Rhaine."

 

Reona pulled her shift tighter around her thin frame, trying not to feel frightened, but unable to brush off the odd paranoia at her realization that it was the male voice that came from Rhaine's throat earlier that very day.

 

 

Rhaine gradually turned around, goosebumps covering her arms and the hair standing up on the back of her neck. She lowered her eyes to the ground respectfully as she turned, bowing deeply at the waist before allowing her gaze to travel upwards. First, she glimpsed a pair of dark brown boots, beautifully armored with engraved silver plates; the boots turned down at the knee, at which point were tucked a pair of loose black breeches; a broad, brown leather belt, studded with diamonds, from which hung a magnificent and frightening sword - wrought from adamantine, mithril, bronze, and gold: a mightier and more elaborate version of the weapon that rested at her own hip; a silver breastplate, fluted elegantly over the shoulders, a snarling lion's-head motif at its center; the loose black sleeves of a silk shirt; a pair of elbow-length brown gauntlets, armored with small silver plates all the way to the fingertips; a long, ankle length brown cloak, hooded, embroidered in gold and clasped with a silver brooch; a black liner concealing the flesh of the neck and head...

 

....and there, almost appearing suspended in the shadows of his cowl, was a silver death mask, wrought into the image of a hauntingly perfect face, its expression one of eternal repose with the slightest hint of a scowl. The brow was softly furrowed, the thin lips down-turned subtly at the corners. Even his eyes were covered, the closed silver lids hiding his gaze. The mask was embossed and engraved around the edges, framing his "countenance" in lavish detail. It was polished to such a high sheen that it glowed in the moonlight.

 

Rhaine was astonished that he had projected his true avatar this far. And the long shadow that the seven-foot-high god cast upon the floor of the stable left no doubt in her mind that he was physically there. She felt slightly intoxicated, as her spirit was drawing directly off of his energy to recharge itself.

 

"And fine greetings to you, my Lord Kelemvor. You honor me with your presence," Rhaine answered.

 

He stood there, still as a statue, for what seemed like an eternity. He was leaning casually against the doorframe, lending a certain amount of nonchalance to his presence. Then, he slowly inclined his head to her, as he often did to acknowledge Rhaine's own minor divinity.

 

And then, he looked upwards, the mask shimmering, so that the face almost appeared to move, "Perhaps I should wait for our guest to make an appearance before I begin."

 

He lifted his hand, and a burst of white light shot through the roof of the stable. Fragments of wood fell to the floor, along with a surprised Bosmer dressed in only a shift. Kelemvor walked forward carefully, his boots thudding ominously as he went. He knelt and looked down at Reona, his mask hovering directly over her face.

 

"So nice of you to drop in, little elf. We meet again."

Edited by AurianaValoria1
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Reona stood in her chemise with her arms folded on the sill of the window, watching the calm stars twinkle in the night, listening to the soft cries of animals in the distance. She felt a crisp breeze briefly tickle her face and smiled, her mind slightly buzzing with dizzy thoughts of the alcohol she'd consumed. The cold night crept in, but she didn't care how low the temperature, the sky was aflame with too many stars to count and the animals were enjoying the night just as she was.

 

Rhaine walked below her, and she nearly gave into the impulse to lean out the window and wave, but refrained since she was supposed to be passed out. She watched the woman and horse go inside the stables, and after a few moments, the sounds of animals ceased. Curiously, Reona jumped down onto the ground below and crouched in the shadows, crawling on all fours to make sure she stayed undetected. She climbed up onto the roof and peeked through a large hole where the wood had rotted away.

 

What she saw was strange, a man in a cloak with his face covered by a mask, watched Rhaine just as Reona watched the both of them. After a minute or two, the man spoke, his voice clear and hypnotic, "Fine greetings and blessings to you, Rhaine."

 

Reona pulled her shift tighter around her thin frame, trying not to feel frightened, but unable to brush off the odd paranoia at her realization that it was the male voice that came from Rhaine's throat earlier that very day.

 

 

Rhaine gradually turned around, goosebumps covering her arms and the hair standing up on the back of her neck. She lowered her eyes to the ground respectfully as she turned, bowing deeply at the waist before allowing her gaze to travel upwards. First, she glimpsed a pair of dark brown boots, beautifully armored with engraved silver plates; the boots turned down at the knee, at which point were tucked a pair of loose black breeches; a broad, brown leather belt, studded with diamonds, from which hung a magnificent and frightening sword - wrought from adamantine, mithril, bronze, and gold: a mightier and more elaborate version of the weapon that rested at her own hip; a silver breastplate, fluted elegantly over the shoulders, a snarling lion's-head motif at its center; the loose black sleeves of a silk shirt; a pair of elbow-length brown gauntlets, armored with small silver plates all the way to the fingertips; a long, ankle length brown cloak, hooded, embroidered in gold and clasped with a silver brooch; a black liner concealing the flesh of the neck and head...

 

....and there, almost appearing suspended in the shadows of his cowl, was a silver death mask, wrought into the image of a hauntingly perfect face, its expression one of eternal repose with the slightest hint of a scowl. The brow was softly furrowed, the thin lips down-turned subtly at the corners. Even his eyes were covered, the closed silver lids hiding his gaze. The mask was embossed and engraved around the edges, framing his "countenance" in lavish detail. It was polished to such a high sheen that it glowed in the moonlight.

 

Rhaine was astonished that he had projected his true avatar this far. And the long shadow that the seven-foot-high god cast upon the floor of the stable left no doubt in her mind that he was physically there. She felt slightly intoxicated, as her spirit was drawing directly off of his energy to recharge itself.

 

"And fine greetings to you, my Lord Kelemvor. You honor me with your presence," Rhaine answered.

 

He stood there, still as a statue, for what seemed like an eternity. He was leaning casually against the doorframe, lending a certain amount of nonchalance to his presence. Then, he slowly inclined his head to her, as he often did to acknowledge Rhaine's own minor divinity.

 

And then, he looked upwards, the mask shimmering, so that the face almost appeared to move, "Perhaps I should wait for our guest to make an appearance before I begin."

 

He lifted his hand, and a burst of white light shot through the roof of the stable. Fragments of wood fell to the floor, along with a surprised Bosmer dressed in only a shift. Kelemvor walked forward carefully, his boots thudding ominously as he went. He knelt and looked down at Reona, his mask hovering directly over her face.

 

"So nice of you to drop in, little elf. We meet again."

 

 

Kalin wished Rhaine good-night and watched her leave. He had a few more glasses of wine, then turned to Ellundil. "Well, my elven friend," he said, "I believe I'll take my leave of you. I've always enjoyed nightly strolls. I like to gaze upon the stars. Have a good rest, Ellundil." Kalin started to leave as well and tossed a small pouch of gold to the elf as he left the table. "Here's some money, if you happen to fancy anything else," and, without another word, walked out of the inn.

 

He started walking towards the road, mulling over Rhaine's words, when he felt that something out of place. Then he realized what it was: Silence. Uh-oh. Kalin's warrior instincts went off, and he formed his mindblades, not caring if anyone would witness his secret. He was going to investigate the grounds when he saw a bright flash shoot out of the stable's roof and heard crashing sounds from it. Rhaine! Kalin rushed into the building, ready to defend his friend, and saw Rhaine facing a huge figure, which was kneeling over...Reona? "What is going on here, and who in the Nine Hells are you?" he demanded, swords at the ready.

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Redemin looked up at the bartender.

 

 

"If it's not too much trouble, could you boil some plain water and pour me a glass?" He asked politely.

 

 

He then rested his elbow on the table and his head in his hand. Godsblood, the drunken crowds I've seen. - he thought to himself.

 

 

"Sure thing good sir! Your water will be ready soon" Mike headed out into the kitchen to start boiling the water. He returned to the patron a few minutes later with a glass of hot water

 

"Tell me my friend, is something wrong? You look a bit tired and a bit lost in your thoughts"

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Reona stood in her chemise with her arms folded on the sill of the window, watching the calm stars twinkle in the night, listening to the soft cries of animals in the distance. She felt a crisp breeze briefly tickle her face and smiled, her mind slightly buzzing with dizzy thoughts of the alcohol she'd consumed. The cold night crept in, but she didn't care how low the temperature, the sky was aflame with too many stars to count and the animals were enjoying the night just as she was.

 

Rhaine walked below her, and she nearly gave into the impulse to lean out the window and wave, but refrained since she was supposed to be passed out. She watched the woman and horse go inside the stables, and after a few moments, the sounds of animals ceased. Curiously, Reona jumped down onto the ground below and crouched in the shadows, crawling on all fours to make sure she stayed undetected. She climbed up onto the roof and peeked through a large hole where the wood had rotted away.

 

What she saw was strange, a man in a cloak with his face covered by a mask, watched Rhaine just as Reona watched the both of them. After a minute or two, the man spoke, his voice clear and hypnotic, "Fine greetings and blessings to you, Rhaine."

 

Reona pulled her shift tighter around her thin frame, trying not to feel frightened, but unable to brush off the odd paranoia at her realization that it was the male voice that came from Rhaine's throat earlier that very day.

 

Rhaine gradually turned around, goosebumps covering her arms and the hair standing up on the back of her neck. She lowered her eyes to the ground respectfully as she turned, bowing deeply at the waist before allowing her gaze to travel upwards. First, she glimpsed a pair of dark brown boots, beautifully armored with engraved silver plates; the boots turned down at the knee, at which point were tucked a pair of loose black breeches; a broad, brown leather belt, studded with diamonds, from which hung a magnificent and frightening sword - wrought from adamantine, mithril, bronze, and gold: a mightier and more elaborate version of the weapon that rested at her own hip; a silver breastplate, fluted elegantly over the shoulders, a snarling lion's-head motif at its center; the loose black sleeves of a silk shirt; a pair of elbow-length brown gauntlets, armored with small silver plates all the way to the fingertips; a long, ankle length brown cloak, hooded, embroidered in gold and clasped with a silver brooch; a black liner concealing the flesh of the neck and head...

 

....and there, almost appearing suspended in the shadows of his cowl, was a silver death mask, wrought into the image of a hauntingly perfect face, its expression one of eternal repose with the slightest hint of a scowl. The brow was softly furrowed, the thin lips down-turned subtly at the corners. Even his eyes were covered, the closed silver lids hiding his gaze. The mask was embossed and engraved around the edges, framing his "countenance" in lavish detail. It was polished to such a high sheen that it glowed in the moonlight.

 

Rhaine was astonished that he had projected his true avatar this far. And the long shadow that the seven-foot-high god cast upon the floor of the stable left no doubt in her mind that he was physically there. She felt slightly intoxicated, as her spirit was drawing directly off of his energy to recharge itself.

 

"And fine greetings to you, my Lord Kelemvor. You honor me with your presence," Rhaine answered.

 

He stood there, still as a statue, for what seemed like an eternity. He was leaning casually against the doorframe, lending a certain amount of nonchalance to his presence. Then, he slowly inclined his head to her, as he often did to acknowledge Rhaine's own minor divinity.

 

And then, he looked upwards, the mask shimmering, so that the face almost appeared to move, "Perhaps I should wait for our guest to make an appearance before I begin."

 

He lifted his hand, and a burst of white light shot through the roof of the stable. Fragments of wood fell to the floor, along with a surprised Bosmer dressed in only a shift. Kelemvor walked forward carefully, his boots thudding ominously as he went. He knelt and looked down at Reona, his mask hovering directly over her face.

 

"So nice of you to drop in, little elf. We meet again."

 

Kalin wished Rhaine good-night and watched her leave. He had a few more glasses of wine, then turned to Ellundil. "Well, my elven friend," he said, "I believe I'll take my leave of you. I've always enjoyed nightly strolls. I like to gaze upon the stars. Have a good rest, Ellundil." Kalin started to leave as well and tossed a small pouch of gold to the elf as he left the table. "Here's some money, if you happen to fancy anything else," and, without another word, walked out of the inn.

 

He started walking towards the road, mulling over Rhaine's words, when he felt that something out of place. Then he realized what it was: Silence. Uh-oh. Kalin's warrior instincts went off, and he formed his mindblades, not caring if anyone would witness his secret. He was going to investigate the grounds when he saw a bright flash shoot out of the stable's roof and heard crashing sounds from it. Rhaine! Kalin rushed into the building, ready to defend his friend, and saw Rhaine facing a huge figure, which was kneeling over...Reona? "What is going on here, and who in the Nine Hells are you?" he demanded, swords at the ready.

 

Ellundil sat alone at the table and gazed at the imperfections in the grain, a few forgotten memories surfacing. He observed the fellow at the bar out of the corner of his eye for a moment, and then stood up, leaving a tip for the waitress on the table and walking to his room, planning on giving the rest of the gold back to Kalin in the morning. He decided he would sleep on the floor, since Reona had the bed to herself, and he wouldn't dare ask to trade places with a lady.

 

He fumbled with the key a bit before the battered little thing finally unlocked the door, his skin flushing a little at how his runes that glowed a light blue dimly lit the dark hallway. He slipped into the room a little more swiftly than he would have done if there were no people staring, and sighed as he shut the door behind him. He untied the strip holding back his hair from around his forehead and placed his sword, pack, and a few other items into a neat pile in the corner by the bed.

 

It was then that his eyes shifted to a black shell of fabric on the floor. He picked it up and his eyes grew wide with horror. It was Reona's dress...

 

He looked around the room, and saw the open window. He felt a little relieved. Since they were on the second story of the inn, that took abduction out of the list of things that may have happened to her. She definitely left willingly; she was probably out trying to clear her head of the alcohol she'd consumed...

 

Even if that's the case, he thought to himself, I have to go find her. She'll probably get herself into trouble, judging on past events.

 

He lithely jumped out the window, and a bright flash of light caught his eye. A figure in a white gown fell through the roof of the stable, toward the source of the bright light, raven hair billowing behind it. Ellundil ran toward the stable swiftly, taking long strides, and halted in the eave of the stable, as he saw a powerful figure looking down at Reona, Rhaine standing beside her horse, and a tense Kalin positioned for battle a few steps away from himself. He panted heavily, feeling a little weak after using so much power in one day, and chuckled a little, "It seems we all keep being drawn together, eh?"

------------------------------------

Reona sniffled a little and wiped away a thin line of blood from her freshly-split bottom lip and stood up, dusting off the skirt of her chemise and curtsying lightly to Kelemvor as he stood as well. It took her a moment to regain her breath, and her left side was ablaze with pain, but she stood up straight and looked up at the mask and pressed the first two fingers of her left hand to her lips, then addressed it directly, if a bit venomously, "Indeed we do. You must be Kelemvor. My name is Reona, but I suppose you already gleaned that from Rhaine's mind."

 

She picked a few pieces of straw from her hair and then continued to brush off her chemise, seeming uninterested in the god as she spoke, "I suppose you're interested in me, since you haven't addressed either of the men here. You are a god, after all. You knew they would come after seeing that beacon of light. Regardless, I'd like to know why it is that your interest, or perhaps curiosity, has been sparked."

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Reona stood in her chemise with her arms folded on the sill of the window, watching the calm stars twinkle in the night, listening to the soft cries of animals in the distance. She felt a crisp breeze briefly tickle her face and smiled, her mind slightly buzzing with dizzy thoughts of the alcohol she'd consumed. The cold night crept in, but she didn't care how low the temperature, the sky was aflame with too many stars to count and the animals were enjoying the night just as she was.

 

Rhaine walked below her, and she nearly gave into the impulse to lean out the window and wave, but refrained since she was supposed to be passed out. She watched the woman and horse go inside the stables, and after a few moments, the sounds of animals ceased. Curiously, Reona jumped down onto the ground below and crouched in the shadows, crawling on all fours to make sure she stayed undetected. She climbed up onto the roof and peeked through a large hole where the wood had rotted away.

 

What she saw was strange, a man in a cloak with his face covered by a mask, watched Rhaine just as Reona watched the both of them. After a minute or two, the man spoke, his voice clear and hypnotic, "Fine greetings and blessings to you, Rhaine."

 

Reona pulled her shift tighter around her thin frame, trying not to feel frightened, but unable to brush off the odd paranoia at her realization that it was the male voice that came from Rhaine's throat earlier that very day.

 

Rhaine gradually turned around, goosebumps covering her arms and the hair standing up on the back of her neck. She lowered her eyes to the ground respectfully as she turned, bowing deeply at the waist before allowing her gaze to travel upwards. First, she glimpsed a pair of dark brown boots, beautifully armored with engraved silver plates; the boots turned down at the knee, at which point were tucked a pair of loose black breeches; a broad, brown leather belt, studded with diamonds, from which hung a magnificent and frightening sword - wrought from adamantine, mithril, bronze, and gold: a mightier and more elaborate version of the weapon that rested at her own hip; a silver breastplate, fluted elegantly over the shoulders, a snarling lion's-head motif at its center; the loose black sleeves of a silk shirt; a pair of elbow-length brown gauntlets, armored with small silver plates all the way to the fingertips; a long, ankle length brown cloak, hooded, embroidered in gold and clasped with a silver brooch; a black liner concealing the flesh of the neck and head...

 

....and there, almost appearing suspended in the shadows of his cowl, was a silver death mask, wrought into the image of a hauntingly perfect face, its expression one of eternal repose with the slightest hint of a scowl. The brow was softly furrowed, the thin lips down-turned subtly at the corners. Even his eyes were covered, the closed silver lids hiding his gaze. The mask was embossed and engraved around the edges, framing his "countenance" in lavish detail. It was polished to such a high sheen that it glowed in the moonlight.

 

Rhaine was astonished that he had projected his true avatar this far. And the long shadow that the seven-foot-high god cast upon the floor of the stable left no doubt in her mind that he was physically there. She felt slightly intoxicated, as her spirit was drawing directly off of his energy to recharge itself.

 

"And fine greetings to you, my Lord Kelemvor. You honor me with your presence," Rhaine answered.

 

He stood there, still as a statue, for what seemed like an eternity. He was leaning casually against the doorframe, lending a certain amount of nonchalance to his presence. Then, he slowly inclined his head to her, as he often did to acknowledge Rhaine's own minor divinity.

 

And then, he looked upwards, the mask shimmering, so that the face almost appeared to move, "Perhaps I should wait for our guest to make an appearance before I begin."

 

He lifted his hand, and a burst of white light shot through the roof of the stable. Fragments of wood fell to the floor, along with a surprised Bosmer dressed in only a shift. Kelemvor walked forward carefully, his boots thudding ominously as he went. He knelt and looked down at Reona, his mask hovering directly over her face.

 

"So nice of you to drop in, little elf. We meet again."

 

Kalin wished Rhaine good-night and watched her leave. He had a few more glasses of wine, then turned to Ellundil. "Well, my elven friend," he said, "I believe I'll take my leave of you. I've always enjoyed nightly strolls. I like to gaze upon the stars. Have a good rest, Ellundil." Kalin started to leave as well and tossed a small pouch of gold to the elf as he left the table. "Here's some money, if you happen to fancy anything else," and, without another word, walked out of the inn.

 

He started walking towards the road, mulling over Rhaine's words, when he felt that something out of place. Then he realized what it was: Silence. Uh-oh. Kalin's warrior instincts went off, and he formed his mindblades, not caring if anyone would witness his secret. He was going to investigate the grounds when he saw a bright flash shoot out of the stable's roof and heard crashing sounds from it. Rhaine! Kalin rushed into the building, ready to defend his friend, and saw Rhaine facing a huge figure, which was kneeling over...Reona? "What is going on here, and who in the Nine Hells are you?" he demanded, swords at the ready.

 

Ellundil sat alone at the table and gazed at the imperfections in the grain, a few forgotten memories surfacing. He observed the fellow at the bar out of the corner of his eye for a moment, and then stood up, leaving a tip for the waitress on the table and walking to his room, planning on giving the rest of the gold back to Kalin in the morning. He decided he would sleep on the floor, since Reona had the bed to herself, and he wouldn't dare ask to trade places with a lady.

 

He fumbled with the key a bit before the battered little thing finally unlocked the door, his skin flushing a little at how his runes that glowed a light blue dimly lit the dark hallway. He slipped into the room a little more swiftly than he would have done if there were no people staring, and sighed as he shut the door behind him. He untied the strip holding back his hair from around his forehead and placed his sword, pack, and a few other items into a neat pile in the corner by the bed.

 

It was then that his eyes shifted to a black shell of fabric on the floor. He picked it up and his eyes grew wide with horror. It was Reona's dress...

 

He looked around the room, and saw the open window. He felt a little relieved. Since they were on the second story of the inn, that took abduction out of the list of things that may have happened to her. She definitely left willingly; she was probably out trying to clear her head of the alcohol she'd consumed...

 

Even if that's the case, he thought to himself, I have to go find her. She'll probably get herself into trouble, judging on past events.

 

He lithely jumped out the window, and a bright flash of light caught his eye. A figure in a white gown fell through the roof of the stable, toward the source of the bright light, raven hair billowing behind it. Ellundil ran toward the stable swiftly, taking long strides, and halted in the eave of the stable, as he saw a powerful figure looking down at Reona, Rhaine standing beside her horse, and a tense Kalin positioned for battle a few steps away from himself. He panted heavily, feeling a little weak after using so much power in one day, and chuckled a little, "It seems we all keep being drawn together, eh?"

------------------------------------

Reona sniffled a little and wiped away a thin line of blood from her freshly-split bottom lip and stood up, dusting off the skirt of her chemise and curtsying lightly to Kelemvor as he stood as well. It took her a moment to regain her breath, and her left side was ablaze with pain, but she stood up straight and looked up at the mask and pressed the first two fingers of her left hand to her lips, then addressed it directly, if a bit venomously, "Indeed we do. You must be Kelemvor. My name is Reona, but I suppose you already gleaned that from Rhaine's mind."

 

She picked a few pieces of straw from her hair and then continued to brush off her chemise, seeming uninterested in the god as she spoke, "I suppose you're interested in me, since you haven't addressed either of the men here. You are a god, after all. You knew they would come after seeing that beacon of light. Regardless, I'd like to know why it is that your interest, or perhaps curiosity, has been sparked."

 

 

 

Rhaine slowly moved away from Thanatos and next to Reona, her wide eyes never leaving her patron. She was unsure of how he would take to being addressed in such a manner...first foolishly by Kalin, then rudely by Reona. She bit her lip nervously. They had picked the wrong entity to cross.

 

Kelemvor towered over Reona, who met his gaze fearlessly...perhaps as much out of ignorance as bravery. He looked at her silently for a long moment before finally speaking, "All mortals are my interest, Rey'ohnahn - especially those who involve themselves with my Chosen. My reasons are my own, and they are not for you to demand. I will offer an explanation if I so choose, and not before.

 

"I also do not take well to being spied upon. Take this as a lesson," he then placed his hand firmly upon her shoulder - the same hand that had brought her down from the roof - and a soft blue light washed over the Bosmer, instantly healing her split lip.

 

Kelemvor removed his hand and turned to Kalin, whose hostile stance was unchanged, "You may put your mind blades away, faithful of Lathander-who-is-Amaunator. Although they are undetectable to the others here, they are quite visible to me. Who I am is obvious at this point, but I shall introduce myself, nonetheless. I am called the Lord of the Dead, the Judge of the Damned, the Master of the Crystal Spire....my epithets are many, but I have one name which you may address me by, and that is Kelemvor. Not of the Nine Hells, as you well know."

 

Finally, the god of the dead looked to Ellundil, "You make a valid point, Rune-Mage, and these actions do not go unnoticed. They demonstrate loyalty and friendship, regardless of their foolishness - both of which you all shall need before your sojourn is over.

 

"I originally came here to speak with my Chosen...alone. I did not expect an audience, but that cannot be changed - you would listen in on our conversation even if I told you to leave, so you may stay. Now, would you three kindly hold your tongues so that I may accomplish what I came here to do?" His tone was dark, and clipped in irritation. He turned his silvered gaze back to Rhaine.

 

She released the breath that she had subconsciously held for the duration of his interaction with her allies. Rhaine offered Kelemvor a sheepish grin, "My apologies, my lord. It seems I have already gained a party of faithful comrades."

Edited by AurianaValoria1
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Rhaine slowly moved away from Thanatos and next to Reona, her wide eyes never leaving her patron. She was unsure of how he would take to being addressed in such a manner...first foolishly by Kalin, then rudely by Reona. She bit her lip nervously. They had picked the wrong entity to cross.

 

Kelemvor towered over Reona, who met his gaze fearlessly...perhaps as much out of ignorance as bravery. He looked at her silently for a long moment before finally speaking, "All mortals are my interest, Rey'ohnahn - especially those who involve themselves with my Chosen. My reasons are my own, and they are not for you to demand. I will offer an explanation if I so choose, and not before.

 

"I also do not take well to being spied upon. Take this as a lesson," he then placed his hand firmly upon her shoulder - the same hand that had brought her down from the roof - and a soft blue light washed over the Bosmer, instantly healing her split lip.

 

Kelemvor removed his hand and turned to Kalin, whose hostile stance was unchanged, "You may put your mind blades away, faithful of Lathander-who-is-Amaunator. Although they are undetectable to the others here, they are quite visible to me. Who I am is obvious at this point, but I shall introduce myself, nonetheless. I am called the Lord of the Dead, the Judge of the Damned, the Master of the Crystal Spire....my epithets are many, but I have one name which you may address me by, and that is Kelemvor. Not of the Nine Hells, as you well know."

 

Finally, the god of the dead looked to Ellundil, "You make a valid point, Rune-Mage, and these actions do not go unnoticed. They demonstrate loyalty and friendship, regardless of their foolishness - both of which you all shall need before your sojourn is over.

 

"I originally came here to speak with my Chosen...alone. I did not expect an audience, but that cannot be changed - you would listen in on our conversation even if I told you to leave, so you may stay. Now, would you three kindly hold your tongues so that I may accomplish what I came here to do?" His tone was dark, and clipped in irritation. He turned his silvered gaze back to Rhaine.

 

She released the breath that she had subconsciously held for the duration of his interaction with her allies. Rhaine offered Kelemvor a sheepish grin, "My apologies, my Lord. It seems I have already gained a party of faithful comrades."

 

Reona inclined her head respectfully and allowed Kelemvor to speak with Rhaine. He seemed a straightforward and honest god, rather than the tricky ones she was used to hearing about in stories, which she supposed was a good thing. She felt quite foolish for being as bold as she had been that night. Perhaps the mead was partly to blame for her boldness and lack of tact, but nonetheless, she should not have been so curious... Her thoughts continued to spin around in her head and caused her to barely listen to what anyone else had to say from that point on...

--------------------

Ellundil respectfully dipped his head at the god and let him continue, then shot a scolding glance over at Reona, who seemed to be in her own world. He made a note to himself to never let her around mead while she was in his company again.

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Reona stood in her chemise with her arms folded on the sill of the window, watching the calm stars twinkle in the night, listening to the soft cries of animals in the distance. She felt a crisp breeze briefly tickle her face and smiled, her mind slightly buzzing with dizzy thoughts of the alcohol she'd consumed. The cold night crept in, but she didn't care how low the temperature, the sky was aflame with too many stars to count and the animals were enjoying the night just as she was.

 

Rhaine walked below her, and she nearly gave into the impulse to lean out the window and wave, but refrained since she was supposed to be passed out. She watched the woman and horse go inside the stables, and after a few moments, the sounds of animals ceased. Curiously, Reona jumped down onto the ground below and crouched in the shadows, crawling on all fours to make sure she stayed undetected. She climbed up onto the roof and peeked through a large hole where the wood had rotted away.

 

What she saw was strange, a man in a cloak with his face covered by a mask, watched Rhaine just as Reona watched the both of them. After a minute or two, the man spoke, his voice clear and hypnotic, "Fine greetings and blessings to you, Rhaine."

 

Reona pulled her shift tighter around her thin frame, trying not to feel frightened, but unable to brush off the odd paranoia at her realization that it was the male voice that came from Rhaine's throat earlier that very day.

 

Rhaine gradually turned around, goosebumps covering her arms and the hair standing up on the back of her neck. She lowered her eyes to the ground respectfully as she turned, bowing deeply at the waist before allowing her gaze to travel upwards. First, she glimpsed a pair of dark brown boots, beautifully armored with engraved silver plates; the boots turned down at the knee, at which point were tucked a pair of loose black breeches; a broad, brown leather belt, studded with diamonds, from which hung a magnificent and frightening sword - wrought from adamantine, mithril, bronze, and gold: a mightier and more elaborate version of the weapon that rested at her own hip; a silver breastplate, fluted elegantly over the shoulders, a snarling lion's-head motif at its center; the loose black sleeves of a silk shirt; a pair of elbow-length brown gauntlets, armored with small silver plates all the way to the fingertips; a long, ankle length brown cloak, hooded, embroidered in gold and clasped with a silver brooch; a black liner concealing the flesh of the neck and head...

 

....and there, almost appearing suspended in the shadows of his cowl, was a silver death mask, wrought into the image of a hauntingly perfect face, its expression one of eternal repose with the slightest hint of a scowl. The brow was softly furrowed, the thin lips down-turned subtly at the corners. Even his eyes were covered, the closed silver lids hiding his gaze. The mask was embossed and engraved around the edges, framing his "countenance" in lavish detail. It was polished to such a high sheen that it glowed in the moonlight.

 

Rhaine was astonished that he had projected his true avatar this far. And the long shadow that the seven-foot-high god cast upon the floor of the stable left no doubt in her mind that he was physically there. She felt slightly intoxicated, as her spirit was drawing directly off of his energy to recharge itself.

 

"And fine greetings to you, my Lord Kelemvor. You honor me with your presence," Rhaine answered.

 

He stood there, still as a statue, for what seemed like an eternity. He was leaning casually against the doorframe, lending a certain amount of nonchalance to his presence. Then, he slowly inclined his head to her, as he often did to acknowledge Rhaine's own minor divinity.

 

And then, he looked upwards, the mask shimmering, so that the face almost appeared to move, "Perhaps I should wait for our guest to make an appearance before I begin."

 

He lifted his hand, and a burst of white light shot through the roof of the stable. Fragments of wood fell to the floor, along with a surprised Bosmer dressed in only a shift. Kelemvor walked forward carefully, his boots thudding ominously as he went. He knelt and looked down at Reona, his mask hovering directly over her face.

 

"So nice of you to drop in, little elf. We meet again."

 

Kalin wished Rhaine good-night and watched her leave. He had a few more glasses of wine, then turned to Ellundil. "Well, my elven friend," he said, "I believe I'll take my leave of you. I've always enjoyed nightly strolls. I like to gaze upon the stars. Have a good rest, Ellundil." Kalin started to leave as well and tossed a small pouch of gold to the elf as he left the table. "Here's some money, if you happen to fancy anything else," and, without another word, walked out of the inn.

 

He started walking towards the road, mulling over Rhaine's words, when he felt that something out of place. Then he realized what it was: Silence. Uh-oh. Kalin's warrior instincts went off, and he formed his mindblades, not caring if anyone would witness his secret. He was going to investigate the grounds when he saw a bright flash shoot out of the stable's roof and heard crashing sounds from it. Rhaine! Kalin rushed into the building, ready to defend his friend, and saw Rhaine facing a huge figure, which was kneeling over...Reona? "What is going on here, and who in the Nine Hells are you?" he demanded, swords at the ready.

 

Ellundil sat alone at the table and gazed at the imperfections in the grain, a few forgotten memories surfacing. He observed the fellow at the bar out of the corner of his eye for a moment, and then stood up, leaving a tip for the waitress on the table and walking to his room, planning on giving the rest of the gold back to Kalin in the morning. He decided he would sleep on the floor, since Reona had the bed to herself, and he wouldn't dare ask to trade places with a lady.

 

He fumbled with the key a bit before the battered little thing finally unlocked the door, his skin flushing a little at how his runes that glowed a light blue dimly lit the dark hallway. He slipped into the room a little more swiftly than he would have done if there were no people staring, and sighed as he shut the door behind him. He untied the strip holding back his hair from around his forehead and placed his sword, pack, and a few other items into a neat pile in the corner by the bed.

 

It was then that his eyes shifted to a black shell of fabric on the floor. He picked it up and his eyes grew wide with horror. It was Reona's dress...

 

He looked around the room, and saw the open window. He felt a little relieved. Since they were on the second story of the inn, that took abduction out of the list of things that may have happened to her. She definitely left willingly; she was probably out trying to clear her head of the alcohol she'd consumed...

 

Even if that's the case, he thought to himself, I have to go find her. She'll probably get herself into trouble, judging on past events.

 

He lithely jumped out the window, and a bright flash of light caught his eye. A figure in a white gown fell through the roof of the stable, toward the source of the bright light, raven hair billowing behind it. Ellundil ran toward the stable swiftly, taking long strides, and halted in the eave of the stable, as he saw a powerful figure looking down at Reona, Rhaine standing beside her horse, and a tense Kalin positioned for battle a few steps away from himself. He panted heavily, feeling a little weak after using so much power in one day, and chuckled a little, "It seems we all keep being drawn together, eh?"

------------------------------------

Reona sniffled a little and wiped away a thin line of blood from her freshly-split bottom lip and stood up, dusting off the skirt of her chemise and curtsying lightly to Kelemvor as he stood as well. It took her a moment to regain her breath, and her left side was ablaze with pain, but she stood up straight and looked up at the mask and pressed the first two fingers of her left hand to her lips, then addressed it directly, if a bit venomously, "Indeed we do. You must be Kelemvor. My name is Reona, but I suppose you already gleaned that from Rhaine's mind."

 

She picked a few pieces of straw from her hair and then continued to brush off her chemise, seeming uninterested in the god as she spoke, "I suppose you're interested in me, since you haven't addressed either of the men here. You are a god, after all. You knew they would come after seeing that beacon of light. Regardless, I'd like to know why it is that your interest, or perhaps curiosity, has been sparked."

 

 

 

Rhaine slowly moved away from Thanatos and next to Reona, her wide eyes never leaving her patron. She was unsure of how he would take to being addressed in such a manner...first foolishly by Kalin, then rudely by Reona. She bit her lip nervously. They had picked the wrong entity to cross.

 

Kelemvor towered over Reona, who met his gaze fearlessly...perhaps as much out of ignorance as bravery. He looked at her silently for a long moment before finally speaking, "All mortals are my interest, Rey'ohnahn - especially those who involve themselves with my Chosen. My reasons are my own, and they are not for you to demand. I will offer an explanation if I so choose, and not before.

 

"I also do not take well to being spied upon. Take this as a lesson," he then placed his hand firmly upon her shoulder - the same hand that had brought her down from the roof - and a soft blue light washed over the Bosmer, instantly healing her split lip.

 

Kelemvor removed his hand and turned to Kalin, whose hostile stance was unchanged, "You may put your mind blades away, faithful of Lathander-who-is-Amaunator. Although they are undetectable to the others here, they are quite visible to me. Who I am is obvious at this point, but I shall introduce myself, nonetheless. I am called the Lord of the Dead, the Judge of the Damned, the Master of the Crystal Spire....my epithets are many, but I have one name which you may address me by, and that is Kelemvor. Not of the Nine Hells, as you well know."

 

Finally, the god of the dead looked to Ellundil, "You make a valid point, Rune-Mage, and these actions do not go unnoticed. They demonstrate loyalty and friendship, regardless of their foolishness - both of which you all shall need before your sojourn is over.

 

"I originally came here to speak with my Chosen...alone. I did not expect an audience, but that cannot be changed - you would listen in on our conversation even if I told you to leave, so you may stay. Now, would you three kindly hold your tongues so that I may accomplish what I came here to do?" His tone was dark, and clipped in irritation. He turned his silvered gaze back to Rhaine.

 

She released the breath that she had subconsciously held for the duration of his interaction with her allies. Rhaine offered Kelemvor a sheepish grin, "My apologies, my Lord. It seems I have already gained a party of faithful comrades."

"I know of you, Kelemvor," said Kalin as he allowed his mindblades to fade. That's going to create questions for you later, Kalin, you idiot, he thought. "Your priests performed the rituals for my dead family, and I still appreciate that." He bowed respectfully. " I'm sorry for interrupting, milord. I was...concerned... for Lady Rhaine's welfare. I hope you accept my apology." Kalin straightened and remained silent, wondering what the God of the Dead would do, especially to one who had sent so many lives to his halls.

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"I know of you, Kelemvor," said Kalin as he allowed his mindblades to fade. That's going to create questions for you later, Kalin, you idiot, he thought. "Your priests performed the rituals for my dead family, and I still appreciate that." He bowed respectfully. " I'm sorry for interrupting, milord. I was...concerned... for Lady Rhaine's welfare. I hope you accept my apology." Kalin straightened and remained silent, wondering what the God of the Dead would do, especially to one who had sent so many lives to his halls.

 

 

Kelemvor glanced to Kalin, "There is no need to fear retribution from me. I realize your actions come from sincere concern, and I truly appreciate it, from all of you. She shall need you before long."

 

He then stepped closer to Rhaine, "Do you remember what I told you when I first sent you here?"

 

"Yes milord."

 

"Jergal and I researched the volumes of Eternity's End to find out more about these portals from Toril to Nirn. We were able to glean that the portals are a recent development, likely a result of the Spellplague. They are one-way-only, and they exist on both Nirn and Toril. One of these portals is within a mile of the undead threat I warned you of. Although, I am not certain that they are aware of it, yet. It is located somewhere in the Jerall Mountains, across the border of Cyrodiil and into Skyrim. Further examination revealed a more disconcerting fact. This threat is larger than I had first anticipated, with a familiar mark that I do not like."

 

Rhaine's brow furrowed, "How do you mean, milord?"

 

"Quell, Rhaine. I detect the mark of quell. Not one or two, not even a half dozen....more. They are surrounded by a large coven of necromancers - likely their creators - on par with the likes of Szass Tam...or, whom Reona and Ellundil might more closely identify with, Mannimarco."

 

Her mouth dropped open. Quell were some of the most powerful undead creatures in existence - not because of size or strength, but because of their unique abilities. Quell had the capacity to completely block even the most powerful priests and priestesses from accessing the powers of their gods - including Kelemvor himself - rendering them perfectly useless. And if there were more than six, even she would have difficulty resisting their magics. A few dozen talented necromancers on top of that would severely complicate matters.

 

Kelemvor continued, "That is not all. The portal which these quell are near deposits travelers squarely in the middle of Baldur's Gate. Should the necromancers and quell manage to make it through the portal, there will be no stopping them. None of the priests and priestesses of the city will be ready for the intercession, and divine magic will be effectively stamped out. The only defense would be the sun itself, which could be blocked by the necromancers' spells. A full-scale massacre will ensue.

 

"This is a threat that we cannot allow to go further, for the sake of Baldur's Gate and for the citizens of this world, as well. You must not let them expand. They have been latent for many years, but that is changing. They are developing something...allowing it to grow. I cannot determine what it is - not yet, at least. I fear the quell are the least of your worries."

 

Rhaine took a deep breath and let it out slowly, "What are your orders, milord?"

 

"First," he answered, "you must find out more about this enemy...it is key to proper preparation. There is only so much information that I can provide. Looking across the planes and into this world is like peering through a frosted glass. I have impressions, but not clarity.

 

"Ask the patrons of this inn, especially natives of Skyrim, about what they've heard and seen. Also, seek out the proprietor, Myrmaad, as I believe she knows something of these necromancers. She is not at the inn at this time...in fact, the sage has been abducted to a nearby cave system. She is accompanied by a half-drow named Kismet, so she should not be hard to locate, but seek her out soon. I fear she is in danger."

 

"A half-drow? From Toril?" Rhaine asked, her eyes widening in surprise. It seemed more and more folk from the Realms were coming to Nirn.

 

"Yes, and from Menzoberranzan, no less - transported here by the Spider Queen herself. It seems more than one Faerunian god is interested in these portals, which may prove to be a problem. I do not know Lolth's motives, but I doubt they are for the good."

 

"Anything else, milord?" she inquired.

 

"One thing remains," he replied, "you will not go alone. I forbid it. As I have said, you will need your new friends to accompany you. They are all powerful allies, especially regarding mind magic, which may be your only advantage. You cannot afford to let the quell succeed in stopping the flow of your power. Should they completely block your contact with me, you will die, and there will be no way for me to save you. As you are assuming divinity yourself, you will suffer the fate of all divines who lose access to their power source: you will cease to exist."

 

He turned once again to Reona, Ellundil, and Kalin, "Which brings me back to you three. Will you hear and heed my words?"

 

Rhaine watched her companions with no outward expression, but her mind was whirling with what she had just learned. It was hard to accept. Her duty was clear, and yet she risked her very soul by doing it.

Edited by AurianaValoria1
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"I know of you, Kelemvor," said Kalin as he allowed his mindblades to fade. That's going to create questions for you later, Kalin, you idiot, he thought. "Your priests performed the rituals for my dead family, and I still appreciate that." He bowed respectfully. " I'm sorry for interrupting, milord. I was...concerned... for Lady Rhaine's welfare. I hope you accept my apology." Kalin straightened and remained silent, wondering what the God of the Dead would do, especially to one who had sent so many lives to his halls.

 

 

Kelemvor glanced to Kalin, "There is no need to fear retribution from me. I realize your actions come from sincere concern, and I truly appreciate it, from all of you. She shall need you before long."

 

He then stepped closer to Rhaine, "Do you remember what I told you when I first sent you here?"

 

"Yes milord."

 

"Jergal and I researched the volumes of Eternity's End to find out more about these portals from Toril to Nirn. We were able to glean that the portals are a recent development, likely a result of the Spellplague. They are one-way-only, and they exist on both Nirn and Toril. One of these portals is within a mile of the undead threat I warned you of. Although, I am not certain that they are aware of it, yet. It is located somewhere in the Jerall Mountains, across the border of Cyrodiil and into Skyrim. Further examination revealed a more disconcerting fact. This threat is larger than I had first anticipated, with a familiar mark that I do not like."

 

Rhaine's brow furrowed, "How do you mean, milord?"

 

"Quell, Rhaine. I detect the mark of quell. Not one or two, not even a half dozen....more. They are surrounded by a large coven of necromancers - likely their creators - on par with the likes of Szass Tam...or, whom Reona and Ellundil might more closely identify with, Mannimarco."

 

Her mouth dropped open. Quell were some of the most powerful undead creatures in existence - not because of size or strength, but because of their unique abilities. Quell had the capacity to completely block even the most powerful priests and priestesses from accessing the powers of their gods - including Kelemvor himself - rendering them perfectly useless. And if there were more than six, even she would have difficulty resisting their magics. A few dozen talented necromancers on top of that would severely complicate matters.

 

Kelemvor continued, "That is not all. The portal which these quell are near deposits travelers squarely in the middle of Baldur's Gate. Should the necromancers and quell manage to make it through the portal, there will be no stopping them. None of the priests and priestesses of the city will be ready for the intercession, and divine magic will be effectively stamped out. The only defense would be the sun itself, which could be blocked by the necromancers' spells. A full-scale massacre will ensue.

 

"This is a threat that we cannot allow to go further, for the sake of Baldur's Gate and for the citizens of this world, as well. You must not let them expand. They have been latent for many years, but that is changing. They are developing something...allowing it to grow. I cannot determine what it is - not yet, at least. I fear the quell are the least of your worries."

 

Rhaine took a deep breath and let it out slowly, "What are your orders, milord?"

 

"First," he answered, "you must find out more about this enemy...it is key to proper preparation. There is only so much information that I can provide. Looking across the planes and into this world is like peering through a frosted glass. I have impressions, but not clarity.

 

"Ask the patrons of this inn, especially natives of Skyrim, about what they've heard and seen. Also, seek out the proprietor, Myrmaad, as I believe she knows something of these necromancers. She is not at the inn at this time...in fact, the sage has been abducted to a nearby cave system. She is accompanied by a half-drow named Kismet, so she should not be hard to locate, but seek her out soon. I fear she is in danger."

 

"A half-drow? From Toril?" Rhaine asked, her eyes widening in surprise. It seemed more and more folk from the Realms were coming to Nirn.

 

"Yes, and from Menzoberranzan, no less - transported here by the Spider Queen herself. It seems more than one Faerunian god is interested in these portals, which may prove to be a problem. I do not know Lolth's motives, but I doubt they are for the good."

 

"Anything else, milord?" she inquired.

 

"One thing remains," he replied, "you will not go alone. I forbid it. As I have said, you will need your new friends to accompany you. They are all powerful allies, especially regarding mind magic, which may be your only advantage. You cannot afford to let the quell succeed in stopping the flow of your power. Should they completely block your contact with me, you will die, and there will be no way for me to save you. As you are assuming divinity yourself, you will suffer the fate of all divines who lose access to their power source: you will cease to exist."

 

He turned once again to Reona, Ellundil, and Kalin, "Which brings me back to you three. Will you hear and heed my words?"

 

Rhaine watched her companions with no outward expression, but her mind was whirling with what she had just learned. It was hard to accept. Her duty was clear, and yet she risked her very soul by doing it.

 

Kalin was silent for a moment, pondering Kelemvor's words. Oh, hells, you might as well. You don't want to lose Rhaine, do you? Oh, shut up, you! You're not helping. He thought, then began to speak.

 

"Kelemvor, I owe my life to Rhaine. I would be a poor friend indeed if I do not aid her as she aided me. I will join her." Turning to the priestess, Kalin continued. "Rhaine, though I rarely do this, for I feel that I shouldn't have to prove myself, my heart tells me that I must." He knelt on the ground in front of her. "By my god, Lathandar-that-is-Amaunator, I, Lord Kalin of the House of Orus, do swear to accompany you in your endeavors. Though I do not look it, I am a veteran of two major wars, and I have experience in fighting the undead, and I shall fight, even if it means my death, for you. Thus I do so swear, by my god, my friendship," he formed his mindblade and drew it across the palm of his hand, blood welling from the clean gash, "and by my blood."

 

Without waiting for her response, Kalin rose nimbly, the bleeding from his hand already slowing. " Besides," he added in a jovial tone and with a wink, "it would be very un-gentlemanly of me not to help a beautiful maiden in need."

 

Kalin turned to face Reona and Ellundil and smiled and stated, with almost disturbing flippancy: "Anyway, I bet it will fun, fighting nasty cadavers and necromancers while carrying the fate of thousands of lives on our shoulders. What do you two think?"

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