Tales of Faerun

[Macman253]

Bard seethed at the mans insult, if it were not for his good nature he would have confronted him about it. Bard began to think heavily as she mentioned judgement. He had heard that term many times, when he was incarcerated for too much drinking and carousing. When he was flogged for a crime he did not commit, when he was a young lad and the town priests spoke of it often. His mind turned to the priest, the cleric that spent more time wallowing in gold and easy women because of his station rather then doing what his faith required of him.

 

"Forgive me Chosen, I spoke from a dark place... a place that was created when my god failed me long ago..." He said, an earnest tone. Nearly every soldier prayed to Torm aswell as other deities. They prayed to him for conviction against the many horrors they faced on battlefields, he had often said prayers to Kelemvor and that is why he had such respect for The Chosen. "Kelemvor is a honest god, if not stern. I know not a soldier the didn't offer prayers to him the night before battle." He said, he stopped packing his things and sat back down. He quickly picked up his canteen of mead and took a long hard drink. Determined to drink away the memories of battle.

[AurianaValoria1]

"I am certain that he heard them," Rhaine replied softly, keeping her gaze on her food. She wondered which deity had wronged Bard, and she was reminded of how rare her own divine relationship was. It was forged through blood, sweat, and tears, and reinforced by trust - a relationship that only a handful of Faerunians experienced at any given time. How many of these bonds had been broken between mortal and god? Thousands? Millions? Indeed, there were many petty gods with petty agendas, and she counted herself fortunate not to be in service to one such deity.

 

There was a sharp whistle as Theron suddenly flew into the camp. He lighted beside the remainder of Bard's honeyed hare and began picking at the leftover meat.

Edited February 3, 2013 by AurianaValoria1

[Flipout6]

Weyland sheathed his blade, surprised with this newcomer's enthusiastic response from Rhaine. Of course he was also fully aware that she had a lot of skin showing, being the young man he was. Amendale sat back down and said nothing, nodding in greeting to Mireth.

 

Weyland was more vocal. "Good to meet you, M'lady. I'm Weyland Grey, fighter and mercenary. This fellow here is Amendale, he's a quiet one." He flashed her a smile and then turned his attention to Tak'We, or more specifically, the music.

 

It was a strange song, filled with contradictions and an exotic tune, and Weyland liked it. He found himself unconsciously tapping his foot to the beat as he stared into the campfire. When the music stopped he clapped respectfully. "That sounded amazing, Tak'We. You and Bard ought to have a competition someday." He grinned. Once he heard talk of strange visions and torture he grew silent and listened, deciding that if the party was going to intervene he may as well keep himself in the loop, especially if things involved a Dracolich. Amendale listened to everything as well, saying nothing. Once the topic of the Gods came up, Weyland was happy to add in his two cents, although it was unlikely to offend anybody.

 

"I find the worship of Tempus to suit me well. He helps the deserving warrior win battles, and by that I take it to mean the warrior who fights honourably. Those orcs that Bard mentioned, didn't. Attacking the soldiers' families when they were gone... A cowardly trick for a cowardly force." He scowled at the thought. "I've only been spoken to by a God once..." He bristled uncomfortably in his seat and then added quickly "But that's a long, boring story and I'm sure none of you want to hear it." His voice was touched with unease, and he distracted himself by gathering a helping of potatoes and thanking the cook kindly.

[GrueMaster]

"Thank you, Weyland," the thri'kreen chuckled humbly, "but thisss one only knowsss the one song, and that iss only because thisss one'sss clutch-mother knew it, who knew it from her grandssire." He assumed the softskin would know what he meant by that and didn't explain his words, and went over to Maeve was, his stomach growling.

 

"Thisss one believes the spiritsss sspeak to thosse who listen and honor them, " Tak'we added to the conversation going on as he accepted a bowl of potatoes from Maeve. He nodded his thanks to her and walked over to the wagon where he sat down and began to devour the meal, listening to the others talk about their spirits.

 

The thri'kreen gave a low hiss at Bard's words, offended at how disrespectful the softskin was. "You should not sspeak with sssuch dissrespect!" he spat out, clicking angrily. *Tck-tck!* "Thisss one may not know how the spirits softskinsss honor behave, but thiss one knowsss Mother Moon caresss for her followerss!" One of his hands went to the silver medallion that now hung from his neck. "Thiss one knowss..."

 

He calmed down somewhat at the man's apology, but he still felt some anger inside. Why are softskins so infuriating? he wondered. Tak'we hissed a sigh and went back to his meal in silence, listening to the others speak of their religions.

Edited February 4, 2013 by GrueMaster

[josh900]

Tannin kept his eyes on Bard, watching him try and hide the memories with the drink. He had made a slip and Tannin knew him better for it. He turned to Weyland at the mention of meeting a god. "Oh no, please by all means! Do tell. A meeting with a member of the pantheons is hardly dull. They're a big hit in taverns oddly enough. But to make it even, you tell your tale, And i'll tell you the time my orc friend once got drunk and danced naked in a temple of Sune. Now THAT'S a story." He said happily. Edited February 4, 2013 by josh900

[Macman253]

Bard shrugged at the Thri-kreens protests. He cared not for his divines, only those of his people. He took another heavy swig of his mead and laid back on his pack. His eyes fixed on the stars. His mind swirled with the heavy drink and memories of long carried regrets and torturous memories. He closed his eyes as he heard a womans scream echo through his mind, he took another drink of his mead but it came up empty. He growled to himself as he looked into the canteen to see it as dry as a desert. He tossed the canteen aside and groaned.

 

"Why is the mead gone..." He said with a drunken slur, he let out a depressed sigh as he covertly slid a dagger under his bedroll and closed his eyes. His hand wrapped around the blades grip. He was a light sleeper, he had slept in a room with four men intent on killing him before and he knew when a would be assassin came for him. If anyone objected to his statement enough to attempt it they would not be the first assassin to creep up on him in the night and he would not be the last.

[AurianaValoria1]

Rhaine finished her potatoes and set her bowl aside, intent on taking a walk. Her mind was active with thoughts of her companions' discussion and of Maydiira's plight. Now that she knew the drow was, most likely, in some sort of trouble, she could not stop pondering how they could get to her before some tragic fate befell her. The Doomguide strode away from camp, headed toward a moonlit pond not far behind the wagons. All the while, she tossed Echo's rogue stone from hand to hand. The pebble made a distinct smack each time it hit a gloved palm...it was the only other sound besides the rustle of grass and the hum of crickets.

 

She stopped at the edge of the pond, glancing down at the glimmering little stone. It would grant one's heart's desire once, so Echo had told her. Rhaine frowned. What did she desire? She already had everything she could possibly want. She had no wish for material gains, wealth, any of that.

 

Her eyes narrowed. She knew what she would wish for - not for herself, but for someone else...

 

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Maydiira devoured the cold porridge as if it were the food of the gods.

 

Fearing they were going to lose the drow before they gleaned any information from her, the Red Wizards had thrown her a small bowl of stone-cold oatmeal and a tiny flask of ale. She didn't care what it was, at that point. It gave her more than a bit of energy, and it satisfied her thirst for a while...though she was certain the alcohol would eventually make it worse.

 

As she suspected, it wasn't but a few minutes after she had eaten that they came to fetch her again, grabbing her up and forcing her to march into Valthanarax's chamber once more. It was then that she had an idea...and she prayed to the Lady of the Dance that it would work...

 

The dracolich had lain down on the dirt floor of the cave, stretched out like some gargantuan skeletal cat. His red eyes fixed upon Maydiira, and he growled, "So...how long will it take, hmm? Are you ready to end your confinement, now?"

 

Maydiira nodded, but pointed at her throat, as if she could not speak for thirst. The male Red Wizard snapped his fingers at the female, "Get her some water. Now."

 

The female obediently fetched a waterskin and shoved it into the drow's hands. She pretended to drink greedily, even spilling some of the water upon herself in "desperation." At last, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and closed her eyes as if relieved. In truth, she was trying to calm her nerves.

 

The dracolich peered at her, "Ready to speak now, are we? What words do you have for me?"

 

She clenched her fists and opened her eyes, "Better luck next time."

 

The incantation for Ethereal Jaunt spilled from her lips faster than she had ever said it. The drow vanished from sight amidst a torrent of activity. The dracolich sprang to his feet, and the wizards jumped away, firing spells left and right. Maydiira herself was long gone, sprinting down one long corridor as fast as her legs would take her. She had to find her armor and weapons before the invisibility ran out...

[Ithildin]

Echo sat down with her back to the fire and put her bowl of potatoes in her lap; she awkwardly ate with one hand and read Rhaine's book with the other. When she heard Tannin encourage Weyland, she looked up from the page she was reading and chimed in. "I'd like to hear about that myself, Weyland," she said, and then grinned at the half-drow. "Your tale about your orc friend would be ... very interesting indeed, though I admit I'm surprised; I've long believed orcs are evil creatures to be avoided at all costs. Apparently I've been quite mistaken!"

[Naktis]

Nawen left the camp at the time when Bard bitterly spoke about worshiping Gods. She remembered her own faith crysis and thought whether her current path is the right one or will it lead somewhere... bad. She knew that the only reason she was so afraid to remain faithless is because of the Wall of Faithless and unfortunately she knew that the wall was real...

 

She chased all the thought away and disappeared into the darkness.

[AurianaValoria1]

Rhaine stood for several minutes, watching the glass-like surface of the pond. She wondered to whom she would give the rogue stone, now; its wish expended, it was of no use to her anymore. She instantly thought of Xallistine and of how much he had been thinking as of late. Perhaps he could make the best use of it...ease some of his worry, perhaps.

 

Sighing, the Doomguide made her way back to the camp and began preparing her usual makeshift bedroll out of her saddle and cloak. Maeve was busy putting Sori to bed while Bilron took care of the dishes. Theron had finished the leftover bits of hare and had hopped up to the lowest branch of the nearby tree, meticulously preening his black feathers. Nawen was nowhere in sight, and Rhaine assumed that she had gone off scouting, as the drow was wont to do.