Tales of Faerun

[GrueMaster]

Dri stood speechless, struggling to control the emotions welling up within her as Weyland poured out his heart to her. She stayed silent as he finished speaking, then, with tears falling freely now, she embraced the man with a great hug. *sniff* "Weyland," she sent, wiping her nose. "I love you, too..." The girl hugged Weyland again, then stepped away slightly so she could see his face, a rueful grin showing on her face. "Heh, you know Arland will never shut up now, right?" She gave a silent laugh; she didn't care. She had something more... Someone...

 

Realizing she was still hugging him, Dri blushed slightly, brushing her hair from her eyes. "Well, um, I think, uh, maybe we should go to bed now." She began leaving, happiness clearly showing. "Good night, Weyland!" She spun and left to her bedroom, where she stripped off her armor and passed out into a deep slumber in her bed, her worries about tomorrow gone for the time being...

 

 

Tak'we gave a respectful bow of the head in solemn thanks, blessings from the spirits always something to be honored. "Thank you, winged pointy-ear," he chattered, then shuffled away, stepping outside. The thri-kreen gazed up at the night sky, spying Mother Moon as She went about Her ancient path, pale tears trailing behind. "Mother Moon... thank you for my clutch. May the spiritss watch over uss all..."

 

Feeling oddly at peace, Tak'we pulled out his strings and begun playing an ancient tune, one that surpassed his grand sire's grand sire, back to a time all thri-kreen were once one clutch under Mother Moon. It was one that all thri-kreen would hear at great gatherings, to respect and honor the bonds that ultimately held all thri-kreen together in the end. He was no great stringer like his clutch-mother was; his ability lie within battle. But... even one like me shouldn't be terrible at playing...

 

He continued to play this, softly at times, and louder at others, but constantly nonetheless, to the disregard of all things. Come what may in the hunt to come, he would face it with his clutch, and he would not have it any other way...

[AurianaValoria1]

After drinking the potion that Annette had provided, Conall settled back down in his bed and laced his fingers atop his chest, "So...anything else I can do for you, doctor? Or anything else you want me to try and choke down?" He chuckled after this last inquiry and added another wink so as not to insult the alchemist too badly; there wasn't much she could do about the taste of her potions.

[Flipout6]

Annette waited for Connall to drink the potion, arms crossed, though when she tried to give him the stern eye she couldn't take herself seriously enough and would have to hold back a grin. When he finished she took the bottle from him and was just about to turn around and leave when Connall asked if there was anything else she wanted him to do.

"Only things I want you forcing down are your pride and my potion tomorrow." Then she grinned wickedly. "Whatever else you choke down is your business."

 

Suddenly Marie appeared behind her in the doorway. "Come on, sis, we need to get you something to wear into the fighting tomorrow." Annette raised her eyebrows and pointed at Connall with a mockingly-serious expression before she was pulled out by the shoulder.

 

Weyland's heart stopped for a few terrifying seconds when Dri started to cry before she made it clear that they were tears of happiness, and then relief and warmth flowed through him and he let out a sharp sigh of relief, gently returning the hug she gave him. He couldn't help but play with her hair a little bit. When she told him that his feelings were reciprocated his heart soared and caught into his throat.

 

"I guess that's settled then." He shot her a huge, giddy smile. "And you managed to summarize in three words what I stumbled on about for two whole minutes. Didn't I mention you were smarter than me?" He just shrugged off her comment about Arland and was a little taken aback at her sudden desire to go to bed, but he couldn't blame her, really. He reminded her to check the bed for any Black Lotus before she climbed in before he took the room across the hall. He didn't even start to take off his armor until he'd made sure that climbing into bed wouldn't kill him, but eventually he was down to just a short-sleeved shirt and pants.

 

He went to close Dri's bedroom door because he's forgotten to do so when he spotted that book she'd been writing in, that she'd been so quick to hide from him....and then with a mischievous grin and a glance to the bed- she was asleep already, lucky her- he picked it up and flipped to the last page, gave it a "quick" (almost half a minute) read-over before he smiled to himself and silently put it down, slipping out of the room and closing the door behind him. He flopped into his own bed with all the grace and control of a two-legged rhinoceros and fell asleep much faster than he expected.

 

On the way out of the inn with Annette, Marie told Arland to come with them, with no room for argument in her voice. In a shocking turn of events that floored both Sybille and Amendale (Sybille almost slipped off her stool) he actually obeyed and followed her out the door. Marie and Annette were headed towards the marketplace, and Marie led Arland a few paces ahead of her sister, where they walked side-by-side.

"What?" He asked simply.

 

"I was thinking about what you said to me on the road." She told him. Indeed he had taken the time to apologize for all the grief he'd caused her en route to Kormul, and just like Sybille she nearly fell off her horse at the time. He also said that he owed her a favor to try and do some kind of right for her. "You said you owed me a favor, so I have one."

 

"If you're asking me to take measurements for her armor you should've brought Tannin."

 

"No, that's not it-"

 

"And if you want me footing the bill you should wait until we get something really expensive so I can tear my hair out."

 

"No-"

 

"Unless you just wanted to see my pretty face?"

 

"Shut up." She snapped, annoyed. "No, what I want you to do is help me protect the other two tomorrow."

 

"Huh? The other two? We have like, twenty people with us-"

 

"Sybille and Annette." She specified. "The latter especially. I'm not playing favourites-"

 

"Yes you are-"

 

"-but I'm worried about them, and everyone else has someone watching their back during the fighting. But I'm not sure if any of us can resist...what these people can do to our minds. Except you, because you're stubborn and stupid. The perfect countermeasure."

 

"I think you could have worded that better but..." Arland shrugged. "Sure. I can pretend to be Weyland for the day."

 

Marie visibly relaxed. "...Thanks. Do that, and get them out, and I'll consider us even. As close as we'll get."

 

"What about you?"

 

"I'll be doing the same, and trying to catch anyone I can off-guard before they can do anything."

 

"How about we watch out for each-other as well as those two? We'll both stay alive that way." She just nodded.

 

When they came back an hour later, they'd outfitted Annette with chainmail shirt made of mithril, a light but sturdy mithril helmet and tough leather pants that would protect her lower body, especially the femoral arteries and the knees. After going through how to put it on and remove it a few times, as well as a few tips from Arland on how to adjust to the weight and use the armor more effectively, they all went to bed, deciding that they needed rest. Amendale and Sybille soon followed, with the former casting another silencing spell on each of the Greys' rooms before finding one of his own and retiring to rest.

Edited June 29, 2014 by Flipout6

[AurianaValoria1]

Zorica, unlike some of the other members of the party, did not sleep for a long while, even after going up to her room. Instead, the half-drow spent quite a bit of time sharpening her twin swords, the rhythmic, repetitive motions of her hand against the blades and the slight scraping noise of the whetstone lulling her into a tranquil state of meditation and contemplation; even Sir Meowsalot, who slept curled in the pile that was her nightclothes, made not a sound. The young paladin’s thoughts wandered occasionally, but they mostly focused on the monumental task the group had before them. She wondered about the outcome, and a tinge of fear and worry crept into her heart…but then her glowing amber eyes became steely with resolve, and she swept those thoughts aside. Instead, she turned them towards the prospects of surpassing this milestone, and it gave her hope for her own quest – a mission she had yet to discuss in detail with anyone in their company, even Rhaine. Zorica resolved that, after the companions had completed their rescue efforts, she would ask to speak with the Chosen in private, as she did not feel the others would place as much importance on her hunt as she herself did.

 

She examined the thin edges of her swords and, satisfied they were as sharp and clean as they could possibly be, slid them back into their sheathes as quietly as she was able, so as not to disturb the others. Glancing at Sir Meowsalot, she realized that the little kitten had made his bed in the midst of the clothes she had planned to wear to sleep that night. Sighing softly and shaking her head, she pulled off her armor and quickly slipped under the blanket, clad in only her undergarments. The half-drow shivered for a few moments, and then slowly fell asleep as the moon reached its zenith in the sky.

 

===========================

 

Next door, Dagny was in a similar state, checking all of her equipment and laying out everything she would need the following morning. The stalwart dwarf had yet to speak with Rhaine about what had been on her mind in Innarlith, and as she set out her brightly polished armor and shield, she made up her mind to finally bring it up with the Doomguide after their mission was completed.

 

If she survived, that is.

 

She shook her head fiercely and forced herself to think positively. Her comrades-in-arms were some of the best warriors she had ever seen outside her clan. There was no reason why they couldn’t all make it out of this fight in one piece. No reason at all.

 

===========================

 

Across the hall, after Annette left his room, Conall smirked in response to her retort and pulled the blanket under his chin.

 

Cheeky woman, he thought.

 

He then turned on his side, blowing out the candle.

 

===========================

 

Outside, Argyros observed the town of Kormul from afar, having found a shaded spot in the surrounding sparse woodland to rest. The place he had chosen was beneath a considerable overhang of stone, but not deep enough to be considered a cave. The silver dragon kneaded the dirt with his talons into an acceptably soft bed, and he tore annoying dangling roots from above him with his beaklike jaws. He then laid his head upon his paws and continued staring at the town, his silvery eyes glittering as he lost himself in his own contemplations. The dragon wondered about the coming battle and if he would be forced to reveal his true identity in order to protect his companions. He knew that he would do so without hesitation if the situation called for it. However, he hoped that his newfound allies would not judge him too harshly upon the revelation that he was not exactly what he presented himself to be…

 

He snorted and watched as his cold breath formed a misty puff in the night air. He had known all along that there would come a day when he would have to show his true self to them. Most silvers who melded with the humanoid populations as he had would eventually do the same.

 

He just had no inkling that it would be quite this soon…

[mythicdawnmaster]

Both Aurora and Xallistine complied with the notion of sleep; upon the eve of such a battle to come, they would need dearly whatever rest they could wrestle from the malignant grip of their foes; for they would certainly not find such solace come-morning. Xallistine for his part drank down Annette's potion without the slightest hint of complaint- despite the rather pungent after-taste- for he had long grown used to the putrid properties of alchemies many wondrous concoctions. That, and his palette was hardly human; raw brain sated him, so he was not one to ask on a principle of taste.

 

Wishing her companions a goodnight and foregoing the allure of drink, Aurora smiled at Rhaine as she agreed with Shalena "Goodnight Rhaine." She nodded to their leader and smiled faintly despite the looming danger they faced, retaining her air of bubbly joviality, as she proceeded upstairs humming a lilting tune.

[AurianaValoria1]

Unfortunately, Zorica’s rest was fitful, and her dreams were borderline nightmares. Her thoughts flashed from one bad memory to the next, and her lust for revenge burned fiercely in her breast, the flame growing as time went on. Her vengeance was made manifest time and again in a myriad of ways, but none of them ever satisfied her hunger for a resolution, and so she was doomed to repeat the cycle over and over…

 

At last, dawn’s rays broke through the small window and woke the paladin, putting an end to her tormented sleep. The battles that had played out in her mind left their mark on her bed, though, as her blanket had been wrapped around and around her and had pulled loose from the corners of the mattress, her bare feet sticking out from beneath the bottom edge. Her sheets were drenched in sweat and similarly tugged towards her, the straw of the cot visible on the sides.

 

Zorica sat up and shivered again, grimacing as she saw the state of the bed and burying her toes in Sir Meowsalot’s warm fur.

 

Innkeeper’s not going to like this…

 

=======================

 

As Dagny settled into bed, her worries overtook her thoughts once more, and they carried over into her dreams, bringing visions of her clan members, both alive and dead, to the forefront of her mind. It was like she could see and hear them, but she could not reach them nor communicate with them in any way. They shunned her as if she were a stranger – as if she were unworthy of their name – and she found herself feeling lost and alone.

 

When she awoke a bit after dawn, the loneliness was almost overwhelming, and her face was grim as she set about arming herself, her movements systematic and stiff. Not knowing whether or not Rhaine would give them much time to eat, she went ahead and buckled on her helmet. The dwarf took a few minutes to adjust the strap under her chin and then patted the trusty axe at her side before shouldering her pack and making her way wordlessly downstairs into the common room…

 

=======================

 

What Conall hoped would be a good night’s sleep was riddled with odd dreams of his childhood and his very first transformation into his hybrid form, which itself had been triggered by his own small fears and worries at the time. They were not nightmarish dreams, but neither were they pleasant. They puzzled him, and when he awoke the next morning, he found himself wondering why such thoughts were plaguing his conscience; the whole event left him ill at ease, as he knew there had to be a reason for these memories to rise to the surface as they did. Yet, he could not pinpoint the cause…

 

Aodh – who had been despondent ever since the discovery of poor Kyli’s body – made no move to get up from his spot at the end of the werewolf’s bed. Even as Conall rose and donned his armor, the psuedodragon remained perfectly still, unwilling to rise with his companion. With a grim expression, Conall stroked the little familiar’s head before turning to depart his room, leaving Aodh alone to his grief.

 

=======================

 

Meanwhile, Rhaine was having her own interesting dreams.

 

The Doomguide had, much like Dagny, set out everything she would need to wear for the next day’s battle, just in case she slept too late in the morning; time was of the essence, and she would need to arm herself with speed and efficiency once awake. Not even bothering to change into her nightclothes, she had gone to bed in her arming doublet and breeches, and even her boots, though she had let her hair down from its high ponytail for comfort’s sake.

 

She had no idea that her outfit would be all too proper for her in sleep as well…

 

Rhaine’s reveries were astonishingly vivid that night, as they mostly were the times she did have dreams. Unlike those she had experienced recently, these did not take place in her usual idyllic dreamscape. On the contrary, the Doomguide found herself in what looked to be like the old indoor practice hall of her home temple back in Waterdeep. Only, this space was much larger – amazingly open and pristine. Mirrors lined the walls, set behind protective wooden grids. Practice dummies and targets were set in front of these on either end of the room, and the center of the hall was empty. Weapon racks held wooden swords and staves, all ready for use. High above the mirrors were tall windows, where bright light shone through in transparent beams and the crystal-clear glass revealed a pure blue sky.

 

The Doomguide smiled slightly; her mind certainly was in training mode, through and through. Shrugging, she assumed that such things must be here for a reason, and so she let herself go along with it all, taking one of the practice swords from its rack nearby and giving the weapon a few loose swings. She watched herself in one of the mirrors for a few moments, her brow furrowed, and then she rolled her shoulders before settling into a fighting stance. She then began executing a series of practiced and methodical maneuvers, dancing first towards the wall and then backwards as she thrust and parried imaginary strikes, twisting and twirling the practice sword with ease. The wooden weapon felt much lighter in weight than Touch of Death, and thus her movements were fast-paced and strong. It also helped that it only existed in the dreaming…

 

Halfway through her second repetition of the set, the familiar feeling that she was not alone sent an involuntary shiver down her spine. She whirled to glimpse her patron watching her from the shadowed corner behind her and to her left, leaning against the wall as he seemed to have a habit of doing.

 

“Are you prepared for tomorrow?”

 

The Doomguide bowed deeply to him and then leaned upon her practice sword, the tip pressing into the hardwood floor. She looked down its length, not glancing back up at him, her hair flowing on either side of her face like a garnet waterfall as she replied with a sigh, “I suppose I am ready as I can be. I am prepared to do what I must to fulfill my duty to both you and the realms.”

 

He was silent for a few breaths, unmoving as a statue, and the uncomfortable hush that fell over the room forced her to return her gaze to him. Finally, after an almost torturous amount of time, he pushed off from the wall and began to walk towards her with slow, measured footsteps, his boots thudding almost ominously.

 

“What you face tomorrow will be, perhaps, more difficult than anything you have confronted before,” he halted a few paces away from her before adding, “In more ways than one.”

 

Concern writ itself upon her face for a moment before her lips spread into a grin, “More difficult than standing over a deep ravine with an invisible bridge and having to cross it to conquer my fear of falling?”

 

“Much,” was his simple answer, his mask glimmering blindingly-bright in the light from the window as he nodded slightly to her. She could not tell if there was a hint of amusement in the word or not.

 

Suddenly, with but a swift glance to his right, one of the practice swords flew from the wall and into his waiting hands. The next thing Rhaine knew, he was backing away from her in fluid strides, and the quiet words he spoke caused the hairs to stand up on the back of her neck.

 

“On your guard.”

 

Her heart caught in her throat and panic seized her, her breath stuck in her chest and tightening with every moment. He was…challenging her? To a spar? This was something for which she was completely unprepared, and she had no earthly idea how to respond…other than to simply obey him and accept whatever came her way. All she could see herself doing was being an utter disappointment…there was no way she could hold up against him, even in a mere practice fight.

 

“Focus.”

 

It was a command, but not too sharp. Nevertheless, it snapped her out of her whirlwind of thoughts and forced her to ready herself for combat. She found that her weapon was trembling as she gripped the hilt tightly, her knuckles white. He began to circle her, moving with the precision and grace of a predator, and she was abruptly overcome with fearful anticipation that she had felt only once before in his presence. The Doomguide turned so that he never managed to make his way behind her, and the two continued in this almost mesmerizing movement for several breaths. Strangely enough, it eventually served to relax her, and she felt her mind fall back into an attentive state. Her grip loosened into a more effective one, and her knees slackened as she kept on turning, her eyes trained on his sword hand…

 

He struck with the swiftness of a viper and the strength of an ox, his cloak like a diaphanous dark cloud behind him, mask flashing with a frightening brilliance as the practice sword clashed against her own. The blow completely took her by surprise and knocked the weapon out of her hand; it went spinning across the room, and Rhaine herself was tossed to the floor with the sheer force of his attack.

 

“Up.”

 

Kelemvor’s command compelled her to scramble to her feet and recover her sword. She barely had time to ready herself before he was coming at her again, moving with swift and purposeful strides. His weapon arced downward impossibly fast, and Rhaine barely had time to bring up her sword in a misaligned parry, the two blades slamming together inches in front of her face. Her limbs hurt with the shock of the blow, and her hands stung as if needles were stabbing her palms. Her heartbeat pounded in her throat as he kept moving towards her, forcing her into a backwards jog as she struggled to get her feet sturdily under her and her weapon ready. The panic returned; her stomach fluttered as though a thousand butterflies had been let loose within it, and her emerald eyes widened like a frightened doe’s.

 

I cannot do this…

 

Each second was a strike. Each second was a blow barely parried and always leaving her off balance. Each hit pushed her farther and farther backwards until there was nowhere left to go. She was trapped up against the back wall with no way to possibly escape his advance. Rhaine’s arms wearily threw up the sword one last time to block his strike, even as she pressed herself futilely into the wall, her wings spread out flat. The crossguard of her weapon locked with the blade of his, and he pushed it all the way against her neck, the silvery tip of his nose inches away as he leaned down, the heavy shadow of his cowl blocking the rest of the room entirely from view.

 

“Think.”

 

Rhaine found that she could not blink as she stared at the shimmering visage before her…the familiar embossing and the flawless symmetry of that all-too-perfect face. The high polish lent a certain coldness to it that made her shiver again, and yet it almost seemed to be alive. She stifled a gasp as she saw green in the serenely closed eyes…

 

…until she realized that the reflection in the silver was not at all distorted, as it should have had it been crafted by a mere mortal. The likeness it showed her was as clear as that offered by the mirrors of the practice hall, and it was her own. Their faces seamlessly aligned; the green eyes staring back at her from the closed lids were hers, and the masked countenance projected the dignified composure of the Judge of the Damned upon her own…

 

In that moment, something changed. Memories of the last dream she had shared with him surfaced in her mind, and she knew that this was practically the same situation – he was teaching her. He was molding her, shaping her, crafting her into the warrior she needed to become to survive…

 

She let her weight drop abruptly, sliding from her position against the wall and rolling forward, away from him. Rhaine then leapt to her feet and readied herself for the riposte attack she knew was coming. Swallowing her fear and dread at any possible retaliation – as she knew he wanted her to do – she winced inwardly as he whirled about with the force of a wind and struck her blade, a loud crack echoing throughout the hall. He began to force her backwards again, his swift strikes keeping her entirely on the defensive.

 

And then she began to throw herself into the blows, transforming parries into forceful strikes of her own. Though they would never match his in strength, they demonstrated a shift in tactics; no matter how close he came to her, no matter how powerful his attacks, she stood her ground. The Doomguide planted her feet as if they were rooted into the floor, and a growl even escaped her lips as she twisted and turned to keep him in front of her. She lost track of time, and she could feel her arms going numb from the force of their hits. Time and again, over and over, the attacks came, each of them different than the last…each of them forcing her strategies and stances to change. Several times he landed strikes on her legs and torso, but she did not back down, taking the stinging blows with nothing but a wince in an effort to pass this test with flying colors.

 

How long this exchange continued, she did not know, but when her strength began to flag and her inhalations came out in painful gasps, he stopped her at last. As she knelt before him, her head down as she struggled to calm her breathing, he took both their weapons and repositioned them on the rack with a wave of his hand. She glanced up and gazed in mild awe at him as the light from the windows spilled around his head and shoulders like a holy nimbus.

 

She smiled lightly and wiped her sweaty brow with one hand, pulling her hair back from her eyes and mouth, “And what…pray tell, my lord…was the moral of the story, this time? Another lesson on the conquering of fear, I presume?”

 

He nodded, “To stand your ground against seemingly impossible odds…against beings far more powerful than you…beings that bring paralyzing trepidations to the forefront of your mind. However, there is more to it than that.”

 

Kelemvor then reached and abruptly pulled her to her feet, gripping her forearms tightly with his gloved hands, “Now do you see why I Chose you? Woman or not?”

 

She gulped. So he knew that still bothered her, even if only subconsciously…and the recent news of the chauvinists in his church had done nothing to help.

 

“Trust and loyalty you already know,” he added, “but what else, Rhaine? What is the key to it all?”

 

Her widened eyes flicked back and forth as her thoughts rapidly moved from one to the next. His grip had yet to loosen, leaving her unable to do anything else. At last, though, she replied with a slight hesitation.

 

“Because… I am always afraid that I will not meet your expectations.”

 

“And because no matter the odds stacked against you,” he added, “You still try.”

 

Kelemvor let go of her and stepped away, “You put some of the most arrogant men in my clergy to shame with your determination and desire for success. Your possession of such fire is a constant reassurance that my Choice was the right one.”

 

Rhaine felt her cheeks burn bright red, as they often did when he gave her such compliments. She could not help but grin like a fool; it made her exceedingly happy to know that he was pleased with her. Still, a brief thought flickered across her mind, and she voiced it with an inquiry, “So…you have never regretted it, my lord?”

 

“Never.”

 

He stepped closer to her again, placing his hands upon her shoulders as he sometimes did. A flood of energy washed over her, and her strength was fully replenished, the weariness banished from her limbs. Darkness enveloped her like a blanket, and her final awareness of his presence was punctuated with but a whisper.

 

“Take my lessons with you on the morrow, and you will prevail.”

 

=======================

Rhaine woke just after dawn, her eyes popping wide open and staring at the ceiling above her.

 

She smiled broadly, ready to face whatever fate had in store for her.

 

Judging from all the bumping around going on in the rooms surrounding her, her companions were getting ready, and she rose to do the same, quickly donning her armor. She took a few bites of dried rations from her pack to sate her hunger, and then she ran a comb through her hair, pulling it into a tight bun at the back of her head. Finally, she took her yet-to-be-worn helm from her bag and slipped it on over her head, buckling the strap under her chin. The priestess rolled her neck and shoulders to get used to the weight, double-checked that she had all of her belongings with her, and hefted her pack onto her back, leaving her room with confident strides.

 

The Doomguide made her way downstairs to the common room, her armored feet loud on the floor, and joined Dagny, Conall, and Zorica, who were waiting for the rest of the company to arrive. Zorica had no helm, but Dagny and Conall were both wearing theirs as well. The latter inclined his head to Rhaine as she entered the room.

 

“Are we leaving soon, my lady?”

 

She nodded, “Indeed, as soon as the others get here. We have no time to waste.”

[Flipout6]

Amendale was, as usual, one of the first ones awake, and he was garbed in his full set of mithril light armor, with his sword strapped to his side and his components all ready for use, before he even left his room. He fervently ran through various strategies in his head as the others came down, barely remembering to eat the large (by Amendale standards) breakfast he ordered.

 

Marie was the next one up. She checked to make sure she had everything she needed, kept her arrows within easy reach and tested the bowstring one last time before they ventured off. When Annette came downstairs Marie helped her adjust herself to be more comfortable. Arland, when he awoke, spent time fiddling with straps on the younger Ordain's armor and showing her what adjustments to make until she was wearing it like any experienced soldier. He exchanged a mutual respectful nod with Marie as he passed her on his way to order breakfast.

 

The heavy clanking footsteps from upstairs announced that one of the two other Greys had suited up, and Sybille walked down the stairs with her maul casually carried on her shoulder and a visored helmet held underneath her other arm.

"Mornin' everybody." Arland grunted a response through a mouthful of waffles while both Ordains smiled at her. She stood beside Dagny, leaning nonchalantly on her warhammer. "So, you excited? I know I am."

 

Weyland was one of the last ones awake, and the sudden recollection of what was to happen stole away any grogginess he might normally have possessed and replaced it with an apprehensive anticipation of danger. He was wearing his full armor, including his shield on his wrist and his visored helmet- very similar in style to Sybille's- when he thundered down the stairs.

 

"And a good soon-to-be-bloody morning to everyone." He greeted sarcastically. "Arland, if you're eaten all the bacon I swear to the gods I'm making you walk into this lair first."

 

"No we still have some left. Innkeep's holding out on me."

 

"Good. I'm not gonna go ahead and try to kill a bunch of psions without some bacon in the tank."

 

"Save some for your girlfriend." Arland snorted. He shut up when Weyland mimed cutting his throat and mouthed I will end you. Not that Weyland minded being made fun of; it was worth a little teasing.

 

"When are we heading out, Rhaine?" Amendale asked. "I'm anxious to get this over with."

 

"ASAP, basically." Arland answered for her.

[josh900]

Knowing full well that he would be too nervous to sleep, Lucas went out and purchased a potion of sleep, and it worked wonders. He was passed out within seconds of drinking it when he went to bed.

 

Azuris meanwhile didn't follow Lucas's example, and instead spent much of the night tossing and turning.

 

 

Tannin however was rather relaxed, spending the night finishing Nawen's armor and mingling with the late night drinkers. With his signature potion he kept himself awake and alert throughout the whole night and in the early morning he could be seen in the corner of the tavern sharpening his blades and patching up his outfit. The moment Nawen came downstairs he was ready to finally gift her the armor he had been working on for the past week or so.

[Deleted6317247User]

Shalena came downstairs as prepared as she bothered to be. She walked towards the bar with the smirk on her face while humming some sea shanty that most of her companions haven't even heard of. The piratess ordered some breakfast and a drink and began eating. Unlike some who were visibly worried Shalena seemed confident in their chances of survival and success.

 

Nawen on the other hand couldn't rest no matter how hard she tried. The drow sharpened her blade twice in one night, checked the sharpness of all of the arrowheads several times, made sure that her current armor was in as good shape as it could possibly be. After she finished checking her equipment, Nawen went through her pack several times, putting all the bandages, salves and what little potions she had in a bag of holding for quicker access for the upcoming battle.

 

As she finished with the healing supplies, Nawen tried to sleep for a few hours but simply couldn't. Whether she wasn't tired or too nervous to sleep, she didn't know. After the first rays of sunrise reached the window she went downstairs.

[josh900]

Lucas and Azuris eventually came down stairs, equipment packed and ready to move out.

 

Seeing Nawen come downstairs, Tannin approached her with it bundled up in his arms. "Well somebody didn't get a good night's rest." He commented when he noticed her tired eyes and expression. "Here." He said, pushing the armor to her. "Go try that on, let me know how it fits, and I'll whip you up some vomit in a vial to get you back in top shape."