Tales of Faerun

[Flipout6]

Weyland sighed as Aodh was resurrected, partially in relief and partially out of grief. "Rhaine's right. At least we managed to save someone." He watched Amendale as he disappeared over the horizon, eyes sad. "....I just hope we don't have to add any more bodies to the pile." He barely stopped his voice cracking, his fury having faded surprisingly quickly.

 

The case for Arland was different. "Unless one of those bodies is his." The brother snarled. "That's if we even add it to the pile. Could bring him back from the dead and kill him again. I have my way, it'll be by tearing him to bloody ribbons." He looked at Rhaine and, seeing her despair, his gaze softened some. "Uh....maybe without the undead part, for Wings' sake."

 

At Argyros flying off as well, Sybille spoke. "We can't stop those two from flying off after him at this point. All we can do is hope they come back. Perhaps they'll fare better in battle now that they have an idea of what they're up against. They're prepared, and chances are they won't be caught off-guard." She tried to grin. "And I get the feeling they're both going to be a handful, riled as they are." Glancing around, she spotted Aera huddled in a cloak much too small for her. She cocked her head, wondering why she would be hunched up in a cloak with heat like this, until she connected the dots regarding clothing and how it fared during a massive bodily metamorphosis. Then she couldn't resist cracking a cheeky, knowing smile. Were she in a better mood she would have laughed at the hilarity of Aera's situation.

 

"This scares me." Marie admitted. "I don't like how easily and quickly this happened. He can ambush any one of us if we're separated. If he attacks at night and takes us by surprise, he could kill any number of us. And that scares me." Her amber eyes flickered uneasily towards Annette, Sybille and Arland as she spoke.

 

Annette, meanwhile, was focused on the matter at hand. She approached Hazel. "Are you wounded? I've still got plenty of healing potions and antitoxins if you've been poisoned."

 

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Amendale looked back at Argyros, a determined glint flashing in his eyes. "I am thinking of the ones special to me. The ones who were mutilated horribly inside their own homes, tortured to death, or had their souls consumed. The ones I couldn't even identify because they'd been raised as ravenous corpses." He looked forwards again. "But I recognize your point. I won't let him stop me from returning to Zorica and Weyland and everyone."

 

Silithus was barely a kilometer ahead of them, but because of the nature of the identical spells they used, the distance between him and Amendale didn't change. Argyros was barely faster than an Overland Flight spell and so he only gained distance slowly, very slowly. As they gained on Silithus though, he tried to evade them, to no avail. Amendale and Argyros pursued him through every canyon he dove through, closed distance every time he tried to change direction, and found him despite any measures he took to hide. Argyros was doing a flawless job of staying on target, his draconic instincts lending him great stamina and proficiency in matters of hunting. Several times the silver was the sole reason that they gained any progress at all.

 

The game finally changed after several hours when Silithus, now perhaps two hundred feet away, suddenly banked sharply to the right and disappeared behind a cliff face. Argyros, now with Amendale on his back (his own Flight spell had begun to wear off, and he was saving a second for when he truly needed it) kept right on the wretch's trail like a bloodhound....and came face-to-face with the screaming maw of another huge dragon as it intercepted them and tackled them right out of the air.

 

As Argyros roared his challenge to the startlingly familiar blue dragon, Amendale prepared to unleash some of his most potent offensive magic. Swirling vortexes of flame swirled chaotically around his hands as all three combatants prepared to strike....

 

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The sun had fallen at camp and many were beginning to settle down for the night. Before they'd begun their ride there, Sybille had whistled at Aera and tossed the weretigress one of her own spare shirts and a pair of pants. Weyland kept Dri close but tried his best to keep Zorica from worrying too much, assuring her that Amendale was more than lethal when he was in a good mood. Angry Amendale, and with Argyros helping him?

"The bastard in the black dress had better watch his back." He reassured her. Dri remained silent, but she made sure via her telepathic amulet that she approved of his helping out. Weyland gave her a downcast half-smile in response.

 

Once they were settled down at camp, Annette took the time to sit down beside Hazel. She looked at the dryad for a moment. "Are you doing alright? I know it's not easy seeing something like that, but.....I was hoping I could help."

 

It was a few minutes later that the telltale beating of massive wings boomed throughout the camp.

 

"Argyros?" Marie shouted.

 

Indeed, it was.

 

The silver swooped in out of the dark of the night, dropping a limp form to the dirt below. There was just enough space for him to land and transform into his elven form just as Amendale slipped off his back and landed with a huff in the dirt below. Both of them had quite obviously seen battle; they were covered in cuts, bruises, and burns. Argyros walked with a pronounced limp, and Amendale kept pressure over a bleeding laceration on his hip.

 

"I'm out of healing spells entirely." He announced, gritting his teeth and breathing shakily.

 

"Who's the dead one?" Arland inquired. "I don't think burnt-face was a woman."

 

"The dragon I engaged over Westgate." Argyros explained. "She attacked us and caught us by surprise. She is quite heavily-scarred and mottled, and she was defending our earlier attacker. It is not of her own free will."

 

"I don't know if she's just insane or if she's being mind-controlled." Amendale added. "But we decided it prudent to bring her back here for questioning, or judgement. Or both. She's not dead, either." His expression hardened. "Our original target got away."

Edited March 13, 2015 by Flipout6

[Deleted6317247User]

Nawen too was relieved when Aodh was brought back to life. She felt very sorry for Heidi, wildlife that vile man killed as well as the lecherous merchant. She didn't like him but no one deserved the kind of death he met. As they left the wasteland behind them, the drow kept glancing up at the sky expecting someone to show up any time, she only hoped it would be Amendale and Argyros instead of the one who killed Heidi.

 

When they've set up the camp by the river, Nawen paced around the camp with Aodh still hiding in her hair and Rhegar following her closely and keeping the close watch of their surroundings. For a brief moment she considered stopping but when Amendale and Argyros came back and told them that the man had escaped, the drow continued watching the area for anything unusual.

 

Shalena was sitting by the campfire when their companions returned with the hostage. "I know no one's going to bother listening to me," she spoke, "but I'll go ahead and say it: if she's really being mind-controlled what makes you think she's going to say anything?"

 

Orion, who remained mostly quiet after his short introduction, decided to speak. "There are ways to get someone to talk, even if they're mind-controlled." The sorcerer said as he pushed himself off the large boulder he was leaning against. Before Shalena could say anything else he added: "And no, I don't mean torture." He said to the piratess as if he already knew which method she would have mentioned.

 

The half-elf frowned as the white robed man told what she had in mind before she could say it. "Watch out, we got a mind reader over here."

 

"Not at all," the sorcerer smirked, "but it does seem preferable to find out what's wrong with her before getting your hands bloody."

[Llhunara]

The whole group seemed to move past their death of their friend much smoother than Llhunarra had anticipated. It was not that they didn’t care for those that had fallen, the passion and the anger in their voices clearly showing that the wrong was not to be taken lately. Yet, they moved on as they knew they had to. Rhaine was at the head of this progressing, openly stating that they couldn’t let this hinder them in the pursuit of their goals. Even if she didn’t trust the winged redhead the rogue had to admit she admired the woman’s strengths, both physical and emotional. Not having known the lost individuals as well as the rest, she had still been shocked to see the brutality of their deaths. Rhaine would not let it get to her, the half-elf understanding why she had to keep the group focused.

 

Soon they were on the road, bodies buried and laid to rest before they set out. After this day Llhunarra was quick to sip at her flask as they rode, the container not leaving her hand as they stopped to break camp. Having no tent to set up of her own she assisted in gathering wood for the fire before settling down next to Shalena. The piratess made her feel the most comfortable out of the group, her usually relaxed demeanor closest to that of her own. With another drink of her special mixture, already feeling the familiar tingle as it mixed with her bloodstream she was about to strike up conversation when their foes pursuers returned, and they were not alone.

 

The question that Shalena proposed felt like a valid one to Llhunarra. Would someone that is under the control of another be able to divulge information even if they wanted to? Looking to the piratess with a skeptical glance she lets the expression linger a moment before returning her attention back to the captive.

[tokyobiohazard]

Aera and Hazel sat near each other in camp, an uncomfortable silence between them. They had been traveling companions for a short while on their own, and the friendship that came from that was evident. However, when Annette and Sybille, respectively, called the two over, they did not hesitate to part.

Aera took the outfit from Sybille happily, "I don't know what happened to my pack. I suppose it was destroyed in that huge spell. Thank you. You seem closest to me in size, so I'm grateful you had something to spare." She snatched up a pair of boots from Sybille's things. Upon Aera asking if she could use them, Sybille simply nodded.

Aera stepped behind some leafy foliage and donned her new clothing. The shirt bared her midriff, and the pants stopped mid-shin, but Aera wasn't complaining. She slipped her sheathed dagger inside her boot, as was her custom.

Aera approached Lucas and offered his cloak back to him, a bit of a smirk on her face. "Thank you for letting me use your cloak. My pack was destroyed along with the oasis, but Sybille was kind enough to lend me some of her spare clothing. Is there anything I could do to return your kindness? Perhaps a sparring lesson?"

Hazel, on the other hand, sat down next to Annette and took a moment to answer, "I suppose I'm doing as well as one can. I fought as well as I could have, and I'm content with the idea that death begets life. When you've lived as long as I have, you have to find some way to cope with death."

[josh900]

Recent events had taken their toll on Lucas, he sat at the edge of camp away from the others and stared off into the distance. Aera startled him as she approached and gave his cloak back. "Oh... It was no problem." He muttered.

"You don't have to do anything for me, no." He said when she asked if there was some way for her to return the favor. "I was just.... doing what I could to help." He said in a small voice.

 

Even as the sun went down Azuris kept an eye up on the sky, with the bright moon and stars he would at least be able to see a dark shape pass over them should the previous attacker try and approach again. Eventually a strange sound out in the distance caught his attention. It was a distinct sound, one that normally wouldn't be heard in these lands, and even at it's distance, it was easily recognizable to those who had heard it before.

 

Azuris stepped out of the camp and looked out across dark, empty landscape as the sound echoed out in the dark. Hexol walked out beside Azuris, looking out for the source of the noise as well.

"What's that noise?" The Kender asked.

 

"Unless we've lost our damn minds... That sounds to me like a griffon." Azuris answered with a smirk. "And you'd never find one in these parts, unless it came with someone."

 

[AurianaValoria1]

Rhaine, upon seeing Amendale and Argyros return, jumped up from her seat with a hand on her weapon when the injured woman was dropped unceremoniously onto the ground before the companions. However, once the Doomguide saw that the prisoner the two brought was no threat, she turned her attention to her wounded friends. With two waves of golden and blue magic, she treated Amendale and Argyros's wounds, the warm light washing over them in soothing waves and mending their broken and bruised flesh. Both muttered their gratitude as she then knelt by the woman on the ground; through the myriad of scars and burns, Rhaine barely recognized a face she had seen only once before...the wild elven druidess they had briefly met in a tavern. The one who had caused the massive hurricane on the Sea of Fallen Stars.

 

"I am inclined to agree with Orion," the half-elf remarked as she leaned over their prisoner. "Elaril?" she asked tentatively, examining the elf more closely. It was obvious that the druidess had been tortured repeatedly, unbearably painful-looking scars and sores piled upon her once fine elvish features. Elaril's formerly stormy blue eyes were now clouded and dimmed with agony, exhaustion, and something more...

 

Beckoning for Conall to approach, the Doomguide instructed the werewolf to tie up Elaril so that she would not be inclined to fight to escape. Rhaine highly doubted that she would, since the elf's arsenal of spells was likely already exhausted from fighting Amendale and Argyros, but she could not be too careful; they knew all too well what the druidess was capable of. Once Conall had secured Elaril safely, Rhaine then cast a Greater Dispel on the elf, breaking any enchantment that might still have held her mind in her captor's control. She followed with a Greater Restoration and a Heal, in attempt to return the druidess's strength to her. Unfortunately, the healing spells did little to help the elf's heavily-scarred visage and body. Elaril would bear the evidence of her torturer's evil deeds for as long as she lived.

 

For several long moments, there was an eerie silence in the camp. Most eyes were on Elaril, where she sat securely tied at Conall's feet. The paladin stood behind her, ready to restrain her further if she tried anything. Finally, Elaril managed to speak, her voice hoarse and grating on their ears, little above a whisper, "What do you want?"

 

Rhaine crossed her arms atop her breastplate, her form outlined in blazing orange by the light of the campfire, "To know who did this to you. This monster has tortured and murdered countless victims and has laid waste to an oasis of unmatched beauty. We wish to bring justice to him for his heinous crimes and to find out why he has targeted us in particular."

 

Elaril's parched lips parted into a grin that was hard to read...as if insanity still lurked in the darkest recesses of her mind. Her expression then melted into a twisted grimace, a wheezing cough preceding her words, "He...his name is Silithus," the word came out as a hiss, like water spilled onto smouldering embers, "He infected the forest that was the Kryptgarden and I...I found him there, reveling in his disease and destruction. We battled. I lost." She coughed and wheezed again, "As if that were not obvious."

 

She hung her head, the only thing she could do since her arms were tied down to her sides, "He took everything...all life. All of it. He obtains pleasure in the agony of the suffering...brings woe for his own enjoyment and that of his goddesses, Loviatar and Talona. He fears nothing, loves his own pain...he is an evil beast with no regard for nature or law. But I do think you have found that particular information out yourself, already," Elaril smirked, "And he forced me to be a part of his foul machinations. Together, he and I rained death on the innocent. He made me assist him in his attack on the estate of Menarses Althas, and it was raided to the ground. Not even my beloved tigress, Kotarak, escaped his control, and she was made to tear out the throats of two beautiful panthers in those halls. And when it was all over, he made me remember in painful detail the screams of all those we slew..."

 

She paused for a moment, inhaling another wheezing breath. "As for why he has targeted you, I do not know. Just like I do not know why the Kryptgarden fell victim to his magics. Or why I was transformed into his unwilling servant," she added, closing her eyes. "Now...I've told you all I can. If that is not enough for you, slay me here and be done with it."

 

Rhaine did not respond for a few moments, digesting all of this information. Elaril was quite obviously a broken shell of what she once was, twisted into such over gods-knew how many torture sessions by the monster that was Silithus. And yet, at the same time, by his command, she had been an accomplice in his foul crimes. She had also been the one who had wanted to destroy Westgate of her own volition, before she ever met the party or Silithus himself. It was difficult to make a fair decision, but one that would not leave anything unpunished. Finally, she took in a deep breath and answered, "We will not kill you. You have been made to act against your will. But forgive us if we cannot trust you fully. We cannot let you go freely," she glanced to Argyros, who was listening and watching intently, "But I do not think that we can bring you with us, either."

 

Sighing, she began drawing power for a spell she had never used on a person before, manipulating swirling, violet and white magic in her hands and bidding it latch itself onto Elaril...the beginnings of a Geas...

 

"You will be required to perform acts of penance, to reverse the damage that has been wrought to the world. You will travel to the oasis south of here, which Silithus utterly destroyed. There, you will remain until the oasis is completely restored by your power...every plant, every tree, every animal that lived there in the year before Silithus destroyed it. Once the oasis is as it was before Silithus's foul magic destroyed it, you will travel across Faerun to the Kryptgarden, and there you will remain until it, too, is completely restored by your power...every plant, every tree, every animal that lived there in the year before Silithus destroyed it. Once the Kryptgarden is restored, you will return to me and you will report your successes...or you will wither away until you are nothing and die by the magics of this geas."

 

A few more minutes were required of casting the spell, but once she was finished, the light which illuminated the Doomguide's body and that of Elaril faded away. Silence filled the air once more, and Conall shifted unsteadily behind the captive elf. Argyros kept his attention on Elaril, not removing his silvery gaze from her.

 

"And withering away to nothing if I don't do your will....this makes you different from Silithus, does it?" the druidess spoke at last.

 

Rhaine's response was immediate, "Yes. It does. For while you had no options under his command, you have two under mine. And my spell is for the good of nature."

Elaril was still for several moments before finally giving a defeated nod. Rhaine gave Conall the signal to untie the druidess, and, with a bit of hesitation, the paladin did so. Once free, Elaril was slow to rise, but as soon as she did, she turned her back on the camp and walked straight out into the darkness, never once looking back. When she was no longer visible, Rhaine sank back down onto the log and stared off into the darkness, whispering quietly, "I hope I did the right thing, there."

 

At last, Zorica stopped focusing on their captive and strode over to Amendale, her normally full mouth a thin line. She simply glared at the moon elf with a hard and cold amber stare for three long breaths before hauling back with her gloved right hand and slapping him full force in the face, the sound cracking as loud as a whiplash through the still night.

 

"What in the Nine Hells were you thinking?! Oh wait, of course you weren't thinking at all, were you?! DO YOU REALIZE HOW MUCH I WORRIED ABOUT YOU? You INCONSIDERATE BASTARD!" the half-drow yelled, not caring if the entire camp was watching or could hear. Frustrated beyond belief, she then spun on her heel and stomped to her tent, brushing past Llhunarra as she did so. As she passed, she addressed the red-headed rogue with a sly remark, "Now I think I know why you keep that stuff handy." With that, she opened the flap of her tent and disappeared inside, not to be seen for the rest of the night.

 

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Several hours later, Rhaine still sat on one of the logs Conall had dragged near the fire and was staring into the flames, holding her arms about her torso. She had since changed into one of the dresses Menarses had given her, but she did not feel the same about wearing it now that she knew of his terrible demise. It seemed that using the garments was both an eerie reminder and a moral obligation, now.

 

She had been like this for what seemed like forever. The Doomguide had already tried and failed to go to sleep; she was too angry to rest properly. She knew it could be a detriment to the others, but she could not help it. There was too much on her mind. So, instead of lying awake in her tent, she had decided to watch the fire until the embers died…which would be a while, yet. The flames were still high and bright.

 

The only other one of her comrades who remained under the stars was Argyros, who kept a vigilant watch. He had since shifted back into his normal form, and the dragon said nothing when he saw her sit on the log, keeping his thoughts to himself and returning his mercury-like gaze to the shadowed wilderness beyond the tents. Rhaine would occasionally glance his way and admire the way the golden firelight danced across his silvery hide, but did not allow her stare to linger long for fear of being rude.

 

Weyland, meanwhile, had volunteered for first watch for the night. Amendale had gone to bed, exhausted, almost immediately after he had returned with Argyros and Dri had since gone off as well, leaving Weyland to himself as he circled the camp, bulwark in hand. With the chill of the desert's night air, he'd seen fit to wear armor, and its odd clank was the only thing that announced his presence. He could understand being restless, but he was starting to worry that Rhaine would not get enough sleep in the coming night.

 

"You know, Wings-" He caught himself. "Sorry, brotherly habits. But you know Annette's probably got something to help you sleep, right? Amendale does too." He shot a glance at Argyros. "That goes for the bigger pair of wings here, too."

 

She looked up at Weyland, “I know…but it is best you do not waste your materials on me. I need…a bit of time, is all.” With that, she returned her gaze to the fire.

 

Argyros bent his head towards the Grey and rumbled quietly, “I thank you for the offer, but I do not need sleep quite as you humanoids do. I am fine, for now.”

 

Weyland shrugged, "If you're sure." Then, he turned to Rhaine and added, "Well I think clerics can use sleep spells. Amendale's hit me with a few before if I woke him up with the occasional nightmare. Not sure if that's his holy magic or something from the Weave, though. Still if it's something you can do you could probably cast it on yourself. You don't want to wake up tired tomorrow. Could also read a book. I hear that makes you tired. Enough to sleep, I mean."

 

Rhaine sighed, “I do not think I could concentrate on a book long enough to read the words, Weyland.”

 

He chuckled, "That's still a step up over me."

 

The Doomguide’s brow furrowed for a moment, as his statement made her recall something, before she replied, “Did your brother ever tell you about my offer?”

 

Weyland's brow furrowed too, "Nope. He probably forgot. Just like he forgot about the Greys living in Westgate again until we were almost there."

 

She chuckled lightly and shook her head, “I offered to teach you both how to read.”

 

Weyland's eyebrows hit his hairline, "What, really? Uh....thanks. I don't know where you think you'll find the patience to do it with him but I'll try to make it easy on you." He smiled, "If that offer still stands, anyways."

 

She smiled back, “It does.”

 

"Well then, let's pick a book, shall we?"

 

Rhaine’s smile then turned into a smirk, “I’m afraid all I have are religious texts…unless you have something you’d rather use?”

 

"Not unless we have any children's tales," Weyland deadpanned.

 

She shook her head, “You don’t need that, Weyland. Come, sit down.” She gestured to the space on the log beside her and pulled her bag to her, rummaging around for a book that would be appropriate for their needs. Weyland said nothing as he laid his shield on the log and then took his seat beside the Doomguide, taking up twice as much space as she did between the broad shoulders and plate-mail. He sat there awkwardly as she rummaged around her pack.

 

“No…no…certainly not…not my spellbook…no…aha!” she pulled a weathered tome forth, stamped with the symbol of Kelemvor in gold on the front. She paused a moment and brushed her hand across the cover, “This…was the first book of my very own.”

 

Weyland looked at the tome oddly, cocking his head, "How long've you had it? Sounds like it's something from when you were a kid."

 

She smiled again, “It is. I was twelve when I received this from my…well, church foster father. Different from my real foster father.” She absently flipped through the thin pages, worn with time and abuse in her pack, “I spent days and nights reading this without the latter of them knowing. Cover to cover. I like to think it saved me from that swamp town. Anyway,” she sighed heavily, “That makes it…eleven, almost twelve years old itself. Possibly a bit older. It was new when Kelemvor was.” She sighed once more and added, “Well…let us begin at the beginning, shall we?” She opened the first leaf and pointed at the first line, “This is the book of his doctrine. It tells us his dogma and our place as priests in his service. As such, I’m sorry to say that the content is likely bland to you…but it is straightforward in style.”

 

Weyland shrugged. "I need to learn to read anything at all before I learn to read anything interesting."

 

She nodded, “Very well. Start with this first line…what do you think you see?”

 

Weyland took a good, long look at the line, "I know a few letters but that's about it. First one makes the ‘duh’ sound and it's one of the first letters in the alphabet. Uh..." There was a pause. "Second one's an E, I think. I know an A. But what's that one?" He pointed to the next letter, a T.

 

“It is a T, Weyland,” she said, indicating the letter with her finger, “and the next is an H. Together, they make a sound such as the one at the start of ‘that’ and ‘three’. Can you figure out what the word is, now?”

 

Weyland took a minute to figure it out, verbally sounding it out as the pieces clicked together in his head. "D makes a ‘duh’, E makes exactly what it sounds like....A is ‘ah’, then a ‘th.’ Dee-ath....death?"

 

Rhaine grinned, “Precisely! The E and A together in this case create an ‘eh’ sound.” She took a piece of spare parchment in one hand, balancing the book on her lap and using her quill to write the word out in order to show him how it was penned, “D..e..a..t..h. Now, try the rest of the sentence.”

 

"I and an S. Iss? Sounds like ‘is’ but S doesn't sound like that." He frowned and then shrugged apologetically, "Amendale taught me most of the alphabet and some of the sounds the letters made before I lost patience with it and told him I'd manage for a while. We never really got around to trying again."

 

“The exceptions to the rules can be a little tricky, sometimes, I’ll grant you. In any case, this S does sound different,” she replied. “Hear that? Does. The S on the end makes the same sound. It is a hard sound, not a soft one. So yes, ‘is’ is correct. Keep going.”

 

Weyland found the next three words to be easy enough to read. “Not....tooooo.....beee." He sounded them out but grasped them quickly. "Not to be. Death is not to be f-f........." He squinted at the next word. "Fee-ahh-err.....eed?" He looked at her, puzzled.

 

“Feared,” she supplied, “Death is not to be feared. Here, the E and the A together make an ‘ee’ sound. More importantly, you’ve now established the pattern for these six words. Anywhere you see these letters in these combinations, they sound the same. You will know them wherever you encounter them,” her grin widened, “You see what worlds this opens to you? It is like discovering the keys to a treasure.”

 

"Well I've never heard of anyone striking it rich by reading a book, but...yes, I see your point," He smiled at her, his cheeks reddening slightly.

 

“It is a different sort of wealth,” she answered, “One that can never be taken from you.”

 

"Oh, I'm sure magic's found a way," he deadpanned again, but a curl at the edge of his lips let her know that he didn't mean any harm by it. "Magic's funny like that. A few sparkles and suddenly your brain's painting a wall somewhere fifteen miles away or you forget what your name is. Anyways...next part?"

 

Rhaine gave him a wry smile and continued working with him through the first paragraph. His progress was slow, but sure, and in the next few hours, he could read it out loud to her in its entirety. During this time, the circles under her eyes had become dark, despite the sparkle of excitement in her gaze at the speed of Weyland’s learning. She ran her hands through her hair and yawned a few times, but she did not dare suggest they stop, especially with him seemingly so eager to proceed. Eventually, however Weyland looked at her. The broad smile on his features diminished slightly when he beheld her weary demeanor, and he gently inquired, "You doing alright, Rhaine? You're looking a little rough. Maybe some sleep would do you some good."

 

She sighed, “I’m not sure I want to, to be honest. I do not think there will be a haven in my dreams, tonight. Not after what’s happened today.” She paused and then met his eyes, "Do you think I did the right thing, earlier? With Elaril?"

 

Weyland took a moment to consider it. "I'd say so. There aren't any good options to take with her. If it was someone else I'd call it too harsh, but she's the one that tried to kill everybody in Westgate long before she met this Sil....Sil-" He had difficulty with the tongue-twister of a name, "Silithus person....Gods I hope I never have to spell that." He shook his head. "But yes. I think you did the right thing. Better to turn an enemy into a friend than to kill them and have them do no good at all, right?"

She nodded slowly, watching as the flames of the fire went down a little, "I suppose. I can only hope I don't regret it later."

 

He shrugged, the pauldrons on his shoulders clanking as he did so. "I don't see any way we can. You can't really dance around a Geas. If she tries to make us regret it, she'll die. If Silithus tries to make her make us regret it, she dies."

She sighed, "She would have to truly want death to get out of it...and she seemed to be at that point anyway."

 

He nodded, "I can't help but feel a little sorry for her all the same. She's hardly a good person, but there aren't many people that deserve the kind of torture he'll have put on her."

 

"I...do, too," Rhaine replied, her voice quiet, "It is a difficult position to be in. To sympathize with a potential foe. I knew a man once...a man who betrayed me...who did so because he wanted to die. He knew I would kill him, or those whom he switched loyalties to would...and he wanted that end. Wanted it so he could be trapped in the Wall of the Faithless...and eaten away into oblivion...because that was the only way his soul would find peace at last." She shook her head, her voice dropping to a whisper, "And part of me felt sorry for him, too."

 

Weyland looked at her, startled. "How much pain did he have to have been in, that he was so desperate to become nothing but a void?"

Rhaine sighed and merely shrugged, "I do not know...only that perhaps he felt that he was broken beyond repair. Beyond redemption. A bad seed with no good ending in sight."

 

"You'd think doing something good would help to turn the bad seed good. Or at least, you'd think he'd believe as much. Did he get his wish?"

She closed her eyes and nodded, "Yes. I saw him in the Wall myself."

 

Weyland was quiet for a moment, but he slipped an arm around Rhaine's shoulders and squeezed lightly, careful to be gentle and avoid the wings. "I'm sorry. I've never seen anything like that, but I think I can imagine how it feels."

The Doomguide leaned into his embrace a little and then pulled away as he removed his arm from around her, "Yet despite the part of me that feels sorry for him...the rest of me feels he got what he deserved. For his actions caused the deaths of many."

 

"I suppose some people are just....broken." He murmured.

She was quiet for many moments, staring at the fire before replying simply, "So they are."

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

 

 

The following morning, as they were packing and making ready to head out on the road again, Rhaine blinked at the bright light of the sun and tacked Kaliste slowly, her weariness evident on her face as she worked, though her posture did much to hide it. The Doomguide could only hope that she could find sleep this next night, when the traumatic events of the previous day were farther behind her. She had taken a look at the map and determined that if they continued on their northward track, they would meet the main road to Maerlar before the day was out...perhaps even get to the town itself before nightfall, if they were lucky. If not, it would be another camp under the desert stars.

 

Conall and Zorica were getting their horses ready nearby, the latter moving swiftly and speaking to no one. The half-drow was the first on her horse, ready to depart, and she seemed rather impatient as she kept sighing and forcefully petting Sir Meowsalot while the kitten sat on the horn of her saddle. Argyros was in the sky again, circling overhead and keeping watch on the horizon with his keen silver eyes. He was but a shining speck far above them, glittering in the pale blue expanse.

Edited March 18, 2015 by AurianaValoria1

[Flipout6]

Amendale thanked Rhaine quietly for healing him and then turned to the druidess captive that Connall tied up, expression stony and eyes hard. He watched in silence as Rhaine interrogated Elaril. Like Weyland, though, however angry he might have been at the prospect of her working with this "Silithus" he couldn't help but feel a little bit sorry for her on account of the agony she'd obviously been through. He also found it darkly amusing that a worshiper of Talona was seemingly named after syphilis.

 

He had a quick answer to Elaril's accusation towards Rhaine. "You're doing good with Rhaine. And you're not being tortured into it, either." Elaril gave him a look and obviously had something to say, but she bit her tongue.

 

Arland, meanwhile, growled at Elaril. "Just be glad I'm not sticking a blade in you for flooding my home and killing a few dozen people, coinwench."

 

Once the elf was allowed to leave, Amendale sighed and cracked his neck, still sore from the tribulations of riding on the back of a dragon while it was fighting a shapeshifter. Zorica, however, took the opportunity to scream at him for running off like he did. She slapped him and stormed back to her tent.

 

Amendale took the slap with a wince and watched Zorica storm off with a hurt expression on his face. He understood her fury well enough, but he at least thought she'd understand his reasoning behind his pursuit. With a sigh, he decided that he'd just have to talk to her in the morning. Perhaps she'd be calm by then. Without a word, he disappeared into his tent and rolled into bed, worried and feeling remorseful. Obviously he'd inadvertently caused her a lot of pain.

 

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

 

When the morning came much of the camp was quiet. Most of the talk was about packing up and getting ready to hit the road. Amendale was up early and ready to go before some of the others were even awake, and rode beside Zorica, trying his best to be unobtrusive. He gave her a weak smile the one time they made eye contact, but Zorica's response was less than enthusiastic.

 

Even the Greys were quiet, given the somber mood of the camp. The full impact of Heidi's death was just beginning to make itself apparent, so they didn't speak much. Even Arland was markedly less obnoxious than usual.

 

So it was quiet a surprise when Weyland broke the camp's code of silence with a high-pitched cry of alarm, which was followed by the sound of steel being drawn and a threatening, guttural growl.

 

"What, what is it?!?!" Amendale asked, a spell at the ready. Then he saw it. "Oh. Step backwards, slowly...."

 

"Tluining big cats!" Weyland exclaimed. "I hate 'em!" Then he hastily corrected himself. "Except Aera, she's alright."

 

"Connall, Nawen, do either of you speak tiger?" Marie asked, slowly reaching for her bow.

 

The tiger in question glared at Weyland as it snarled, eyes huge as they beheld the blade he pointed at her. Connall was quick to make his presence known, pulling Weyland and Amendale back slowly and stepping forward to take their place. He crouched down to its level. Feline noises ensued.

 

"Okay. I guess he can speak tiger." Marie added, drawing her bow off her shoulders. The tiger roared at her.

 

"Marie, put your bow away." Connall instructed. She cautiously slipped the weapon onto her back again.

 

"Maybe Aera should be talking to it." Arland commented drily. "She's a tiger. She'll know how to speak tiger. For all we know, Connall's speaking dog."

 

"She won't hurt us." Connall affirmed, after several moments. "She'll be coming with us, for now."

 

"And if I have to draw my bow,I won't be attacked?" Marie asked. Connall assured her that she wouldn't be. "Then let's go."

Edited March 19, 2015 by Flipout6

[FreemasonGamer]

As a vividly orange and crimson sun begins to rise over the horizon, rich and colorful sunlight dances across the plains and a small encampment consisting of a single tent, a firepit that has long since burnt out, various goods and equipment necessary for travel, and a great white camel who snores loudly with every breath. The sun slowly climbs into the sky, and a man soon staggers out of his tent. Yawning pleasantly, the figure stretches to and fro as the mystic red markings etched across his skin glimmer in the morning rays of light, flickering as if they might suddenly catch flame. A light breeze drifts through the camp, playing with the genasi's fiery gold and red hair. Rameses smiles faintly once he is finished stretching, and he then prepares himself a small breakfast of a stale biscuit, some dried agave flowers, and a thin strip of smoked beef. However, he is careful to not eat too much or too quickly as he consumes the morsels, taking only a few drinks from his waterskin afterward.

 

"We'll need to find water soon, Jarl." Rameses sighs quietly, looking to his camel. The white beast only snorts quietly, glancing at Rameses before continuing his rest.

 

Rameses returns Jarl's retort with a dismissive shrug before deconstructing his tent and packing away his equipment. It does not take long for the seasoned traveler to have all of his gear neatly stored away and ready for travel. He then wanders over to Jarl's side, patting his towering hump.

 

"Time to go, my friend." Rameses says softly, like a parent gently awakening a child. Almost immediately, Jarl rises with a reluctant groan.

 

Grinning, Rameses quickly equips his camel with his saddle and equipment. Within a few moments, the duo are ready to strike out on the road once more, except there is no road in sight. Rameses stomps out and disperses the still-warm ashes of his last campfire before climbing up onto Jarl, the longsword scabbard secured at Rameses' waist striking against the saddle with a muffled tap. Jarl shifts his weight eagerly, glancing up at the sky with uncertainty glinting in his dark brown gaze. His rider pats the camel's neck comfortingly, glancing up at the sky as well.

 

"What do you see?" Rameses asks, eventually shrugging when he receives an expected lack of response.

 

So, the pair begin their daily journey across the plains of Mulhorand, and Rameses occasionally refers to a small map of his. Accustomed to Jarl's swaying gait, Rameses begins to mumble to himself as they travel.

 

"The Road to the Dawn should be that way... We don't have enough water to double back to the river... We'll just have to make it to Maerlor, Jarl." Rameses confirms with another shrug.

 

However, Jarl soon sets his cautious glare on a lone figure walking cross the plains from the north of them. Rameses squints his eyes before pulling out a small spyglass that was only about the length of his hand, which he had acquired through unsavory means during his time in Calimport long ago. He observes the figure, who seems to be a fearsome elvish woman seemingly out of place on these plains.

 

"Best leave that one be, Jarl." Rameses says as they give the ominous figure a wide birth.

 

Later that day as Rameses thirsts for water he does not have, he sees a group of horsemen riding away in the distance. Pulling out his spyglass once more, Rameses discovers that it is a group of ragtag, mismatched adventurers not unlike himself. Carefully contemplating what to do, Rameses comes to the unfortunate reality that he has no water, whereas the group might indeed have some to share. Rearing Jarl into his fastest gait, Rameses whistles sharply over the plains in hopes of catching up to the group.

 

 

[Llhunara]

Llhunarra hung back as she normally did. Feeling equal remorse for those fallen she still strove to stay out of the way when she could. Honestly, she wasn't even sure if she could offer anything to the group. While her combat skills were not that of a novice, she had dispatched one vampire with some assistance, she was no weapon master or heroic champion. Most of her skills lay in those arts considering less savory to many such as theft and stealth. Lacking the skills for proper scouting in places other than an urban setting, she wasn't even qualified to take point is the areas they had visited thus far. Perhaps at some point they would need someone with vast knowledge on grades of alcohol or someone to best a foe in a tavern game? Highly unlikely.

 

As useless as she felt the rogue was not going to abandon them, she had given her word to assist. Staying out of the way and not causing any trouble were her main objectives for the most part, yet she couldn't help the way her brow furrowed as the interrogation progressed. A big believer in freedom, and unaware of all this elf had done, Llhunarra was not at all pleased with Rhaine's spell. Magical bonds were no better than physical ones, perhaps worse in many aspects. Cherishing her freedom, the rogue would never have submitted to any spell on her, death would award more freedom than such a thing. Eyes on the winged redhead she silently promised to speak with her on the decision...but not just yet. Considering all that had happened she would allow a small window which would also provide her with time for some liquid courage, the armored female was a bit intimidating.

 

Her sour mood on the subject did not transfer to Zorica as she passed. Smirking as well the red head lifts her flask in a toast to the statement before mumbling under her breath. "I make sure to keep it handy and men at a distance." Having had a partner or two in the past she had decided that a strong drink was often a better companion than the opposite sex. A drink couldn't be foolish or an ass and she had yet to meet a spirit that displeased her. Letting things be she focuses on her drink and the warmth of the fire, it had been a long day.

 

Later that night, when Rhaine and Weyland were talking one more did remain outside of a tent, not that she took part in or heard any of their conversation. Curled up on her bedroll, always sleeping under the stars, Llhunarra was sound asleep. Behind another log that had been a bench she went unnoticed and unheard. The days events and the amount of alcohol she had consumed helped her find sleep rather easily. Not until the sun was up and people were moving about did she wake.

 

Confusion quickly found the groggy half elf as members of the group prepared to defend against....a giant cat? Shaking her head in an attempt to bring about her senses the redhead soon found it not needed...thank the gods. Rising a few moments later and trying to roll up her bed roll was difficult enough. Like the others she set to preparing her things to travel, her minimal possessions a godsend this morning.

[tokyobiohazard]

Hazel mounted her horse carefully, still finding it odd to be riding a beast when she had two perfectly capable feet of her own. However, the speed with which her chestnut stallion covered distances seemed to be good enough reason to hitch a ride. The fact that this horse had pulled Heidi's wagon, though, disconcerted Hazel.

As the group started to move, she sped up until she was beside Nawen and said with a little smile, "How is Aodh doing? The little one fought pretty valiantly. He seems a bit upset since... Well, what occurred in the oasis. But he shouldn't be. Aodh did what some of us wouldn't have the courage to do. He should be proud of himself."

A little while later, Aera found herself riding beside Lucas. Awkwardly, she filled the silence between them, "Um... Hello, Lucas. You seemed a bit upset back at camp. Are you alright? I just, I thought you might want someone to talk to."

"No... No, not really..." Lucas spurred his horse onward, speeding up and riding at a slightly faster pace than Aera.

Her brow furrowing, Aera sped her own horse up, matching pace with Lucas. "So, what? You're just going to avoid me and everyone else and let this fester inside you?"

"No I just.... I don't want to talk about it." He sighed, keeping his horse at the same speed seeing that it was obvious that Aera wouldn't let him escape.

Aera simply closed her mouth and nodded with a small sigh, "Fair enough. I don't think many of us are ready for talking so soon after Heidi died. Unless that's not what this is about?"

"Kind of." He said before looking around to see if anyone was paying attention to the two of them before continuing. "I... just hate it when I can't do anything to help... that's all." He admitted in a small voice.

Aera slowed so that the two of them could fall slightly behind the party, "My offer to be a sparring partner still stands. I could teach you a few things. Though, I'll admit I'm not the greatest in a fight without my transformation." Aera paused, then added, "I could bite you, but I doubt you'd want that."

"No I... really don't want you to bite me, no." He said, remembering seeing the effects of her bites against their enemies.

"I suppose a... bit of sparring with you couldn't hurt." He finally said with a sigh.

Aera smiled wryly, "All right, we'll get started next time we make camp."

After that, she and Lucas rode together in silence. A few minutes later, Aera noticed a sharp whistle and turned her horse around, stopping harshly, "There's someone behind us!"