There Is No Absolution

[Gren Blockman]

June 23, 2018





Gren stood on the porch of the Forgotten Layers Inn with a corn broom, sweeping away clumps of dirt that had been left behind by their last guests. A pair of field hands had stumbled upon the place. They told Gren they only wanted a few drinks before running off to try to find their way home again. "Geez, they brought all their dirt with them, there probably wasn't any left to farm anyway", he said to himself. Stopping for a moment, he peered up into the air, shading his eyes with his hand. It had turned to summer and the heat was rising, there and in RhyDin. Sweeping the dirt off the porch into the little garden below, he wiped his brow.

Noira was near enough to hear Gren’s grousing but said nothing, merely shook her head minutely and smiled with amusement as she bent over her work. She was sitting Indian-style on one end of a stone bench, and an old map of the region and one of her own were on the other, held down by an open book on the vast family tree of some long-dead dynasty. Her hair had been trimmed but was worn loose and long save for a few thin braids, and its dark shade had turned a little auburn after a month relaxing in the nice summer weather at Forgotten Layers. She hummed thoughtfully and drew a thin, careful line across a mountain range with a stubby pencil.

Coming out to the porch, Izira brought a glass of iced lemonade for Gren. Her muted yellow dress was light and good for summer. Despite the warmth, she wore her hair down. "Thought you might enjoy a bit of a drink for your hard work." She handed the drink over, before moving out to the garden to give Noira her own drink.

"Hey, thanks." Gren took the drink and gulped half of it down. "So how many plates of food did those two eat?"

"Four. Each." Izira brushed her fingers against her skirt, "Healthy appetites. I just finished with the dishes." She waved toward the inn and the kitchen. One hand brought up to pull a strand of hair behind an ear.

Noira was quiet in her thanks, giving Izira a grateful smile as she took the lemonade and making another with a pleased hum at the first sip. She knew she would be leaving soon, and silently savored the company and unique rhythm of the couple’s interactions. There would be little of the sort once she returned to the wilderness.

"They must not have eaten for a week then. I can't remember ever having put down four plates of food in one sitting." Having finished his sweeping, Gren leaned the corn broom against the wall of the Inn, then sat down on a chair on the porch. "Well, it's been quiet enough around here. I guess we were bound to get guests at some point."

"Is there a season where the inn has more visitors?" the elfess asked, looking up from her work.

"They were young. Still growing." Izira smiled at the easy nature of the two farm hands, they had taken their fill of food and returned with stories in thanks. Looking to Noira, she paused, "Perhaps fall? It seems a season given to people losing their way more."

"Yeah, we get a lot during winter too, poor people wandering around in the snow. You'd think they'd know better." Gren downed the last of his lemonade.

"Good that they find this path, then," Noira murmured, bending her head to her map again, tracing a finger along the high mountains that stretched into the north. Hopefully she would return from this before the weather turned. "I know what it like to lose the path under the snow — it incites despair swiftly..."

"I think the path finds them more than the other way around." The realm worked in its own way and Izira had grown to appreciate it over the years. She looked down to the map that Noira reviewed, "It seems like only yesterday that you returned."

"I am loath to part with your hospitality," Noira said with a fond smile, "but I would not hear the end of it from my family were I to grow fat and happy in my first century."

"Perhaps you should join the rangers, it seems to help keep Gren fit." Izira smiled over her shoulder back at Gren. The slight bite of her lower lip there and then gone.

"Sadly I have not the nimbleness for a bow, nor the temperament for your open meetings," Noira added with a rueful chuckle. "Nor am I so quiet or fleet-footed as your brothers and sisters," she added to Gren.

Gren got a bit red at Izira's comment, but covered it with a cough. "I don't know, Noira, you seemed right at home, pitching in and giving orders. It's a wonder that Perrigan didn't make you General instead of Rodan."

Noira flushed at that. "It is not that I have given many orders, only that I have received many. And anyhow," with a little lift of her chin and a careful look, "I feel as though the same could be said of you. You exercised good judgment under pressure and gave clear orders, and your Rangers listened to you. Perhaps it could have been you."

Izira smiled, watching the pair speak on the other's prowess. She then moved back to Gren, sitting in a chair beside him.

Gren got a bewildered look and pointed at himself. “Me?” He kind of sat back and thought about that one. "I never even thought about being Captain let alone General. I don't know if I'd want that responsibility."

"It is my experience that those who want it the most are no better suited for it than those who simply suffer it," the elfess observed, lowering her eyes mildly as she sipped at her lemonade. "And if such a matter had been up to a vote, I would have voted for you as General. And myself to replace you as Captain," she added quickly and in a smaller voice, paired with a teasing grin as her eyes raised to flick between Gren and Izira.

Gren chuckled at that last part and looked at Izira. "First you and now Noira. I wonder who else would like to be a Ranger, huh?"

"I would second that vote, though, as I have been told, I am not a ranger." Izira softly chuckled. "Noira took to it far better than I."

Noira shook her head. "I fear I would only be of use in war." The words had come out at first with a soft laugh, but as she finished them, her brow furrowed. She looked down at her map as the first available distraction.

"I'll offer Noira's name next time we're looking for a new Captain." Gren chuckled some more.

Down at the portal, Haddon and Moriana suddenly appeared. There were two young men and a young elfess standing behind them in grey cloaks. "Hup Hup Hup Hup! Forward and up those stairs!" Haddon barked. The three young recruits hopped to it as Haddon followed behind smirking, with Moriana right beside him. "Hey there Gren, Little Missy, and the Bossy Battlemage. How's things in this neck of the woods?"

Izira rose with the arrival of the rangers, "Well, yourselves?" She looked over the three new rangers with a smile.

"You seem in high spirits, Ranger Haddon," Noira called back to him as he approached. "And I am glad to hear of it -- Izira had just told me this morning that we are in sore need of firewood." Her eyes danced with mischief at the lie, though she took an opportunity to scan the new recruits.

Haddon replied to Izira. "Oh, I'm just peachy. I get to put these three rookies through basic training. Sound off Ranger Ethan!"

"Aye, sir!"

"Sound off, Ranger Dennard!"

"Aye, sir!"

"Sound off, Ranger Ayellia!"

"Aye, sir!" Each of the recruits answered and saluted smartly at Haddon's command.

Then Haddon looked at Noira incredulously. "Firewood? Haven't I chopped enough of that? And besides, if there's any chores needing to be done, I think our three new, eager recruits should handle it. It builds character."

Moriana balled up her fist and punched Haddon in the shoulder.

"What's so wrong with that? I had to do all kinds of crap I didn't want to during my basic training."

"Ah, but none of them ruined a barstool by not listening to my advice”, Izira rebutted.

"Aw, Missy, that was months ago!"

Moriana held up one finger.

"Okay, one month, but that's still a long time! Am I going to have to chop firewood forever over one little barstool?"

"Oh, that is so very, very familiar," Noira could not help a long, genuine laugh at Haddon's words. She took some time to gather up her research, rolling up her maps with care. "How long have they been in your care? Long enough to hear your stories?" she added, and spared a wink at Moriana.

Haddon turned to Noira. "It's been a good two weeks since I started breaking these three in. And if by "stories", you mean first hand, practical experience by a seasoned veteran such as myself, then yes. I think they're coming along quite nicely."

The young elfess, Ayellia, spoke up. "Sir, do I have to chop wood? I'm still tired from carrying all those barrels of ale and boxes of food for your lunch, Sir!"

"Well well well! Ranger A-yell-ee-ah! You sure like to YELL-ee-ah a lot about your troubles, don't you, young lady? If you don't like chopping wood, how are you going to handle a legion of bloodthirsty orcs, hmm?"

Moriana rolled her eyes heavenward.

Noira snickered. "Perhaps by carrying them away in the empty barrels from the larder?" she suggested. It would probably rile him, but a riled sergeant was a good sergeant, more often than not.

"This is hard work! Do you know how much energy it takes me to bark orders at these three greenhorns all day? Plus all that running around in the forest. Plus protecting them from all the nasty things crawling around out there that would like to make a snack out of them before they even learn how to swing a sword! In fact, I'm feeling a bit famished right now. All this arguing has given me an appetite." Haddon began looking through a window at the bar to see if Izira had any food sitting out.

Noira looked Moriana in the eye if she could and mouthed to her when Haddon was turned to look through the window: How many nasty things did he slay today?

Moriana held up her hand in the shape of a zero.

No food was sitting out at the moment and Izira had cleaned the bar since the farm hands had made their way off. She cleared her throat lightly, "In answer to your question, you'll be free of chopping duties when my stool is free of scorch marks." Moving to the door, "Ethan, Dennard, Ayellia... would you care for a meal?" She nodded to Moriana, inviting her along as well.

Noira laughed.

"Hey now, you don't want to spoil them! They ate first thing this morning, they'll be fine for a while!" Haddon objected.

Ethan and Dennard looked crestfallen, and Ayellia looked like she was going to cry.

Moriana held her fist up in Haddon's face.

"Alright, alright, damn! I didn't have you pegged as a softie, Mori. Go on ahead and eat, you little ingrates!" Haddon waved them through the door with a hand.

The three recruits almost busted the door down in their effort to get inside and find a barstool.

[Gren Blockman]

Noira took herself, her maps, and her drink inside after the others, though she detoured away from the bar to a chair by the hearth. There was her pack, not intending to leave just yet, but she had practiced a few different ways of distributing her load. She set her lemonade aside, stowed her maps into a pouch, the book into another, and hefted it to test it. Hm. Out of the corner of her eye, though, she watched the bar and the recruits for a sign of what might be for supper tonight.

Izira followed the young rangers into the inn, pulling her hair up and into a bun as she moved. Her smile welcoming and warm, her steps less rushed then theirs. "What would you three take to drink?" Slipping behind the bar, Izira started a cup of coffee for Moriana and set that down first.

"Ale!" Ethan said.

"Water!" Haddon corrected.

The recruits looked a bit deflated, but repeated Haddon's command. "Water", they asked Izira.

Moriana took a seat beside them and sipped the coffee.

"I'll take an ale, though, Missy!" Haddon said as he sat down beside Moriana.

"Don't you think you should lead by example?" Izira started pouring water for the recruits.

"Rookies do as I say, not as I do." Haddon nodded at his example of fatherly wisdom.

Noira slid a finger through a loop in her pack, intended for a singular purpose. "Moriana," she said as she looked up at the ranger. "Do you know if it has been finished?"

Moriana held her index and thumb together a short way apart, as if to say it was almost ready.

The elfess broke into a pleased smile at the news and nodded. Then she hefted the pack over her shoulders, grunting as the weight settled, and made her way upstairs for a moment.

Izira looked to Gren, "Captain, your thoughts?"

Gren had followed the others in. Not being hungry at that particular time, he had sat over by Noira as she got her pack together. Then he absently stared into the fireplace before Izira asked her question. "That doesn't seem fair to me, even if they are his recruits."

"Water it is." Izira smiled to Haddon, "Unless... of course you've changed your mind?" Izira had managed to pull rank without even having one.

Haddon looked between Izira and Gren. "Seeing as I'm outnumbered here, I'll do the 'fair' thing and take the water. What's going on around here today?" Haddon added that last part, looking at Moriana while shrugging.

A fourth water was given to Haddon with a nod. Izira moved off to the kitchen, "Now, let me see what there is to eat." Not that it was an issue, but she looked at Haddon anyway, "Try not to burn anything while I'm away."

"The only thing that's going to burn is my hungry stomach, Missy." Haddon offered as he sipped his water and made a face.

Longer than a moment, but less than two minutes anyway, Noira made her way back down the stairs, her cheeks slightly flushed, perhaps from the exertion of carrying her pack up to her room. "You missed lemonade in the garden and a long day of cooking for farm hands, sweeping up after them, and staring at maps," she informed Haddon as she brushed at her hair with her fingers, pulling it to one side and twisting it up into a bun.

"Other than lemonade, it doesn't sound like I missed out on much then. Geez, Gren, you're still sweeping up around here? I thought you'd be at Headquarters trying to get some brownie points with Rodan."

Gren chuckled and shook his head. "No, I had enough Ranger politics to last me for a while after what happened last month. I'm more than happy to help Izira run the Inn for a while."

"Well, Rodan's going to need all the friends he can get”, Haddon replied.

Gren perked up from his chair and looked at Haddon. "What does that mean?"

"I think you know what'll happen when Rhett gets back."

Gren grimaced and looked away again. "Man, I didn't think about that."

Noira stopped at the foot of the stairs, turning to stare at Gren and Haddon with a frown. "I never did ask... where was this gentleman during the conflict last month?"

"Way up North, on a scouting mission, keeping an eye on the orc and goblin tribes. I don't know if it was Perrigan's idea to keep him out of the way or not, but if he hears about Rodan's promotion, I don't think he's going to be happy." Haddon said, answering Noira's question.

Wonderful smells snuck from the kitchen as Izira prepared a meal.

Ethan and Dennard leaned forward as they sniffed what was coming from the kitchen. Ayellia's stomach growled so loud it sounded like the word "Food".

"Well." Noira moved up to the bar, closer to Gren, Haddon and Moriana, and lowered her voice so it would not carry as well to the recruits -- who, thankfully, seemed more intrigued by culinary aromas than military politics. "Bossy Battlemage or no, I was present for most of the battles in which the General distinguished himself. My journey does not have to happen just yet," she added slowly, looking out the window at the color of the leaves, still the rich, deep green of summer. "If it is helpful to you, I can come to headquarters and speak on his behalf."

Out from the kitchen Izira came, carrying a large tray of six plates. Each plate had a portion of vegetables and rice along with a portion of a lemon herb fish filet. Keeping the tray balanced in one hand, Izira set a plate and silverware wrapped in a cloth napkin on the bar. There was a plate given to each recruit first, then Moriana, then Haddon. "Noira, would you like a plate as well?" Izira knew Gren well enough that he would have been at the bar as quickly as the recruits had he been hungry.

"Please," Noira smiled at Izira, settling into a seat. "Is there another bottle of the viognier from the night before last?" she added.

The silverware was out of the napkins and shoveling fish and rice into the rookies' mouths in a flash.

Haddon looked thoughtful at Noira's offer. "It couldn't hurt. I doubt Perrigan really wants Rhett over Rodan, but every little bit helps. Oh yeah, meat on the table!" Haddon quickly forgot about Rhett and Rodan as he started filling his mouth quicker than the three recruits.

"I believe I recall seeing a few more bottles. I will fetch your plate then the wine." The plan set, Izira went to the kitchen to fix the plate, back sooner as the components were ready. The plate set before Noira, Izira opened the trap door to the cellar and headed down the steps.

Noira nodded at Haddon. "We withdrew in good order in the aftermath of the Iron Grove. His leadership kept the army together and brought us home. His conduct should speak for itself," she observed. She flashed a smile after Izira as she set out her food and descended the stairs.

In short order, Izira returned with two bottles. She shut the cellar door, set one bottle on the shelf for easier access in the future. She took down two glasses, one for herself and another for Noira, "Gren, would you like some wine?"

"Rodan's an alright guy. He's not the cleverest or toughest guy I've ever met, but he gets the job done. We could do worse", Haddon agreed.

Moriana nodded along with Haddon.

Gren smiled, not wanting to be unsociable, he walked over to the bar with the others and sat down. "No wine, I'll just sit and chat with everyone."

"I think we should be cautious with offering such faint praise, though..." Noira said to Haddon and Moriana as she scooped up her glass. "Thank you, Izira," her expression softening again.

Izira nodded to Gren and Noira, "Welcome." She took a sip of her own wine. She moved and pulled out a bottle of Broot, this time only holding it up in question for Gren as the rangers were speaking. In an aside to the recruits, "There is more should you need it."

Gren nodded to Izira, he'd never turn down a Broot.

The three recruits almost simultaneously held out their empty plates for more, "Pleeease!"

Gren nodded at Noira's comment. "Noira's right. We need to concentrate on what Rodan's done well. He got the Rangers out of Outpost Blue, held the gate during the battle at the Headquarters, and got the army back after the Iron Grove. Plus his connections as the son of a Duke doesn't hurt. His father is very generous to our Guild because of Rodan. He's the best person for the job right now. I think Perrigan just needs us to remind him of that."

Izira took out a glass that frosted over in her hand, pouring the Broot out for Gren and leaving it on the bar for him. Izira nodded to the recruits, taking their dirty plates and slipping into the kitchen again.

"If you're not up to anything, and after Izira's fed the recruits, would you like to go to Headquarters then, Noira?" Gren asked.

Noira nodded slowly, and then to Gren, "Gladly. You and your Rangers have helped me before, and provide a great service to the region. I am always glad to lend aid how I can."

Back out of the kitchen, Izira returned with fresh plates of portions for the recruits and set them before the trio. She returned to her glass of wine.

Gren nodded, and they chatted as the recruits finished their second plates. Before they could put the laborers from before to shame, the group headed out to return to Ranger's Headquarters.

[Gren Blockman]

The double doors of the Ranger's Headquarters swung wide to allow Gren, Izira, Noira, Haddon, Moriana, and the three recruits’ to enter. "Alright you three slackers, lucky for you we're back at home base. You can go back to your barracks now. And Ethan, keep your hands off Ayellia!" Haddon shouted at the rookies.

"Sorry, Sir!" Ethan said, as they quickly trotted out of sight.

"Kids these days, am I right, Mori?" Haddon said, putting a hand on Moriana's shoulder.

Moriana swatted the hand away and gave Haddon a rough shove.

"Hey! I didn't mean anything by it!"

"Let's just go see Perrigan, alright?" Gren said, trying to move things along.

Izira followed, carrying a pouch full of blueberries for Eamond. She also had a book for Yolene, though the cover was a plain shade of green and gave nothing away of the contents. She walked beside Gren, looking as the recruits hastily departed their group.

Now down to five people, the party moved on up the street towards Perrigan's house. Up the wooden porch, through the door, and into the foyer they went. Gren knocked on the office door.

"Who's there?"

"It's Gren. I'm here with Izira, Noira, Haddon and Moriana. We wanted to talk to you about something."

"Very well, come in." Opening the door, they found themselves in Perrigan's office. The large oak desk was still there, filled with papers, dispatches and requisitions. The snack tray now held little chocolates instead of nuts. "Captain Blockman, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

They all found seats before Gren continued. "We wanted to talk to you . . . about Rodan."

Perrigan raised his eyebrow, "Is that so?"

Despite not being in one of her curious hunger moods, Izira took a chocolate - just one - before settling into a seat. She offered Perrigan a soft smile that might have held a little sadness for him.

"I know you've made him Acting General. We were hoping you'd make it a permanent promotion. He did an admirable job during our crisis last month. He got everyone evacuated from Outpost Blue alive. He helped defend the walls during the attack on the Headquarters. And he rallied the army and led them back after what happened in Iron Grove." Perrigan's face tried not to betray any sadness over mentioning Iron Grove, but it was hard not to.

Noira bowed her head in greeting to Perrigan, but remained silent at first, keeping her hands folded behind her for lack of a helmet to tuck under her arm. “I was on the wall with your Captain, Headmaster,” she addressed Perrigan, indicating Gren with a flick of her gaze to one side. “I saw him holding the gate against undead assailants, fighting and giving clear orders under pressure; and I can vouch for all else that Captain Blockman has said of General Rodan’s quality,” as it was his technical rank, at least for now.

Perrigan nodded slowly, as he took in what Gren and Noira told him. "Believe me, I would not have given Rodan the position if I did not think he had potential. To be honest, I'm not sure if I made it temporary just to see how Rodan could handle the responsibility, or because it's hard for me to see someone other than Westerguard in that position."

Gren nodded. "Headmaster, it's been hard on all of us. But I think we need to look to the future as well. We need to give Rodan all the support we can during these difficult times. I know I will stand behind him. I'm sure most of the other Captains feel the same way."

At the mention of Perrigan not making it official due to Westerguard, Izira leaned forward and patted the back of his hand offering some comfort.

Perrigan absently rubbed his chin, thinking over Green and Noira's words. He gave Izira a soft smile at her gesture. "I understand. This has been a difficult time. Perhaps we need . . . as you say, something more permanent. Alright. But if we're going to do this, I'd like to have a formal ceremony. That way all the Rangers will know this is my decision, and Rodan will know we have confidence in him. What do you think?"

Noira lifted her chin as she met Perrigan's gaze, seeking a sign of permission or acknowledgment that her input would be welcome here.

"Go on." Perrigan gestured at Noira to speak.

"I think it is an excellent idea, and that it may also be of benefit to speak to the other leaders among your Rangers in advance of the ceremony so that they know what to expect and take it as the... 'Word of the Gods’, as they say, at the earliest possible point."

Perrigan nodded, then he looked at Haddon. "Well?"

Haddon laughed his booming laugh. "Hey, it's all good with me. I'm not even a Captain yet!"

"Yes, but I value your advice, more than you think."

"Well, in that case, I say we have a party for good ol' Rodan!"

Moriana merely nodded her agreement.

"I think it's a great idea", Gren added.

Perrigan lifted his hands, "Alright then, it's settled. We'll organize a ceremony for Rodan as soon as possible. One thing. Gren, I may need your help if some of our Captains don't seem to be on board."

Gren nodded, "Yes, Headmaster, I'll help however I can."

Izira glanced back to Gren, thinking of Rhett with Perrigan's final comment.

Noira smiled at the mention of a party and Haddon and Moriana's excitement. The amusement lingered in her gaze even as she schooled her smile into something sterner. "I have a question, Headmaster." She faced him again. "While I am happy to advocate General Rodan to you for his excellence, I am aware that I am an outsider among you, and was an unexpected ally in the campaign against the necromancers. If you have counsel for my conduct while I am among the Rangers, I, as your guest," she bowed slightly then, shifting one arm out in front of her as she did, "welcome it and will follow it."

Perrigan's gaze met Noira, and a smile slowly crept on his face. "Well, young lady. I just had another great idea. You did offer us valuable advice and service during our last campaign. Perhaps at this ceremony, we won't just anoint Rodan as General. Perhaps we can make you an honorary Ranger as well."

Gren's jaw dropped a little, then he smiled. "That would be great! What do you think, Noira?"

Honorary made all the difference in the world. "I have been honored to fight beside your Rangers, Headmaster, and I would be honored to accept this," she said, bowing again with a little more grace, flourish, and a sly smile and narrowing of her eyes to match his own.

"I know you have other commitments, so I don't want to steal you from them. But this way you can offer your help again whenever you have the opportunity and the desire."

"Hey Headmaster! Since you're passing out promotions, how about making me an Honorary Captain for training all these new recruits?" Haddon piped up.

Perrigan turned his gaze to Haddon. "I'll think on that one, Haddon. I'll think on it for a looong time." He finished with a sage nod.

"I will say, Perrigan, that given the strike choice, Haddon did take water over ale as was fair to his example for his recruits”, Izira explained.

"Perhaps Honorary Sergeant of Dietary Advice to New Recruits," Noira offered as an alternative, her smile curling a little wider.

Perrigan chuckled. "Well, let's draw a happy compromise here. All recruits are in need of a Sergeant to keep them in line. So Haddon, at our little ceremony, I am going to promote you to this guild's first ever Sergeant, in charge of training. How about that?"

"Well, hot damn! It's a promotion, ain't it? HAW HAW, I'll take it!"

Moriana threw her hands up in frustration.

"Now, now, you didn't let me finish", Perrigan continued. "I'm sure Haddon will need help in this new endeavor, so Moriana will join him as a fellow Sergeant. I'm sure you both will work together, hmm?"

Moriana nodded fiercely and crossed her arms, leveling a gaze at Haddon.

"Aw, heck, Headmaster, we've worked together this long, I wouldn't know what to do if she wasn't around."

Moriana nodded emphatically that that was the truth.

"I could think of no better pair of Sergeants than these two who helped bring down a bone dragon”, Noira said with a soft laugh and another dip of her head. "Now... I am of a mind to see about that helmet. If I am fortunate, it will have been finished while we were en route."

"Congratulations Mariana, Haddon”, Izira said.

"Thank you, thank you", Haddon began, "You know, it's my tireless work for this guild, sacrificing my time and body for the good of everyone here that led me to this . . .”

Moriana cut him off by punching him in the shoulder.

"Ow!"

Perrigan laughed, "Alright settle down. I trust that alleviates your concerns, Captain Blockman?"

"Yes, sir, it does. Thank you very much for your time. We can check out the progress on Noira's helmet now”, Gren replied.

"Alright then. Take care of yourselves."

Noira made her way out after the others, barely containing her excitement once they were out of Perrigan's office. "I will have to try very hard to stop myself from fireballing that helmet at the first opportunity. I should have had an infused helmet years ago, but they promoted too many to lieutenant and had none to spare..." She breathed a long sigh at that.

Gren walked with the others into the foyer. He smiled at Noira. "I hope it came out alright."

"Well, Gren my boy, I'm going to go celebrate. Have a good night! You too Little Missy! And uh you . . . " Haddon pointed at Noira, but having forgotten her name, he moved on, " . . . yeah you too. Bye everyone!" Haddon and Moriana waved, then moved out of the building and towards their barracks.

Izira asked to give her gift to Eamond at the Cafeteria, and with a wave she left as well.

"Alright, let's go see Malcolm then", Gren said, and directed them to Malcolm's cluttered little shack. It still looked as messy as usual. Gren knocked on the door, and there was no answer. He knocked louder, but still no one came. He then leveled his shoulder at the door, and with a charge popped the door in.

Malcolm was at his desk, one elbow leaned on the desktop with his cheek in his hand, snoring. The sudden burst of the door caused him to awake with a start, and his forehead slammed against the desktop with a loud boom. "OWWWW. Dude. Harsh. Damn." Malcolm sleepily rubbed his forehead as he stared at the three new entrants.

Noira's mouth was agape when she realized that Haddon did not know her from Adam, or Eve, in this case. "I could have died fighting by his side and he would not have known my name," she breathed incredulously, falling a few steps behind before hurrying to catch up. And, naturally, Malcolm had been asleep. "Hello, again." Noira gave the poor, sleepy, possibly bruised mage an almost dementedly toothy grin, swinging right back to excitement once more. "I am here to ask about my helmet!"

Malcolm shifted his bleary eyes at Noira, as if trying to properly process the words coming out of her mouth. "Helmet. Helmet." Lazily he glanced around his room until his eyes fell on the shiny helmet under his desk. "Oh. Right. Helmet. Yeah. Gotcha." He drew out the steel helmet and held it up. "Mithril. That cost a pretty penny. But it's in there." He tapped his knuckles against the inside of the helmet for emphasis. "Good luck with that and all." Malcolm offered the helmet to Noira for her inspection.

Noira took the helmet from him by the nose and gave it a good press with her thumb and, satisfied by the lack of give, took it up for closer inspection. She placed it on her head, shifted it down snugly, removed it, knocked on it, stomped on it, kicked it across his room, retrieved it, and finally held it out the open doorway and willed a searing cosmic fire to envelop her hand and the piece of armor it clutched. Her eyes were dark, glittering with starlight as the flame crackled and flared around her, failing to affect the helmet in any way, and her lips curled into a very wide smile. "It's perfect," she said.

"Whoa. Whoa. Easy. Fire." Malcolm got both of his hands up, but by then the spell had petered out anyway. "Glad we could help. Now I've got another . . . . uh . . . project to work on. Do you mind?"

By way of answer, Noira tucked the helmet under her arm, fished a small sack of coins out from her belt, and underhand tossed it across the room and onto his desk -- a tip from a satisfied customer. "Sleep well," she said, and with a satisfied nod between him and Gren, stepped out of his shack.

Malcolm vaguely raised his hand to catch the sack, but it went flying past it and landed on his desktop. "Eh. Yeah."

Gren grimaced at Malcolm, then walked with Noira back outside. "Geez, I'm surprised he stayed awake long enough to finish that. I'm glad he did a good job with it at least. Let's see what Izira's up to at the Cafeteria.”

[Gren Blockman]

Noira had her helmet cleaned of any soot or ash and hooked into a sturdy yet supple leather loop at her waist, tightened carefully around the nose guard, minimizing its movement as it bounced off of her hip. One gauntleted hand rested on top of its shiny, mithril-infused surface, giving it a fond pat-pat as she followed Gren into the cafeteria. Given enough fights with zombies and cave trolls, she felt confident she could get it looking every bit as filthy and battle-worn as the last one.

"I wonder what Izira is up to with Eamond? Maybe they're gonna make something good!" Gren said to Noira in a whisper as they entered the Cafeteria.

"Gren, are you suggesting that Izira would ever cook something of lesser quality?" She chided teasingly as she arched an eyebrow at him.

"Well, I know Eamond, and he doesn't go for quality, he goes for quantity."

Indeed, they had made something yummy. Izira stood by the long table, neatly stacking the freshly made blueberry crumble bars at the end while Eamond set out the rest of the lunch items.

"Heeeeyyy!" Gren rubbed his hands together as he walked over to the buffet. "I get first dibs!" He grabbed a lunch tray as they filled the buffet with food.

"Hello you. How was Malcolm?" Izira picked up a couple of the bars, offering one to Noira and feeding the other to Gren.

"Oh ye of little faith..." Noira clucked her tongue as she took the second spot in line behind Gren, scooping up a tray. As eager as she was for the food, she piled on only as much as she could carry with her tray balanced on one forearm, saving her other hand for ale. "Sleepy," she answered Izira, and cocked her hip to show off the new helmet as the blueberry crumble bar was placed on her tray.

"That is nothing new”, Izira replied.

"But at least he got the job done." Gren said, before Izira stuffed the crumble bar in his mouth. "MMuffagood!" He remarked, putting another one on his tray, before he scooted down to see what else Eamond had placed there for the hungry Rangers.

Izira admired the handiwork of the helmet. "At least he was awake enough to do a good job." In her usual manner, Izira had picked at the food while she helped make it. So she left them to partake of the chicken breast, mixed vegetables, rolls, and rice.

With Noira’s tray already well laden, the elfess found a simple flagon and poured from a spigot on a barrel of ale until the foamy head nearly bubbled over the edges. She filled up a half dozen wooden mugs, placing them around a tray, carefully set the flagon in the center, scooped up the tray under her arm with a grunt of effort, and with very careful poise bore it over to one of the tables. "He did an excellent job -- my fire left it unmarred," she assured Izira with a smile, and set the drink tray down first. "There is ale for the thirsty, good Rangers!" she called out as she picked a seat nearby to place her lunch tray.

Gren put some of the chicken, vegetables, and a roll on his plate. He curiously watched Noira fill up the mugs of ale and was about to ask her what she was doing when she called out to everyone. A few Rangers began gathering about, but right when she spoke, Haddon and Moriana walked through the door.

"Hot Damn, Ale! Well you're speaking my language!" Haddon hotfooted over to her, not bothering with the buffet and started downing a mug in one long drawn-out gulp.

Moriana curled her lip at him and walked past to the buffet line, getting some food and blueberry crumble herself.

"Does it stand up to chewing?" Izira thought of some of the larger beasts Noira might run into. She chuckled at Haddon, shaking her head at him. She moved to take a seat by Gren after fixing herself up a small mug of tea.

"Likely, but I will be very cross if I have to pry this helmet out of the guts of some beasts so soon," Noira sighed. Her lips curled in an amused smile at Haddon and his chugging, but she nodded encouragingly to a few of the nearby Rangers, nudging the tray with one hand.
She took a small beer for herself, setting it next to her tray as she tugged her gauntlets loose.

Gren sat down next to Noira and started eating his chicken.

"Hey, Mori, save me some!" Haddon slammed the empty mug and trotted to the line, grabbing a tray and taking triple portions of everything.

Moriana hurried through the line as if trying to get away from him.

Tired of being subtle, Noira simply flagged down someone specific, someone who was not in a group chatting with others yet had a look of experience about him -- and a full tray in hand. "You can sit here if you like," she said, reaching over to lift up one of the mugs, "and share in an ale."

The man she grabbed was tall with red curly hair that fell past his shoulders. He curled his mouth up in a smile. "Well, I never refuse an invitation from a pretty lady. What's your name, sweetheart?" He took the mug as he waited for her to answer.

She really should have expected this, shouldn't she, Noira thought. "Ilinoira Abernova Tiranel Sibreth." She didn't wait for him to finish mouthing through all those syllables, following up quickly, "You look like the kind of man who knows his way around, Ranger...?"

Izira bit her lip, knowing all too well how that question could be construed.

"Brennan", he looked slightly confused at the list of names she gave him, but the million-dollar smile returned. "You can say I'm the sociable type." He took a drink of the ale and returned his gaze to Noira. "So, what brings a petite beauty like yourself here to our humble Ranger's Guild?"

Izira glanced to Gren and rolled her eyes slightly.

Gren caught Izira's gesture, he himself shrugged, bewildered and turned to watch the conversation again.

Noira's smile sort of... froze in place as she beheld him, awed by him in a way that was probably much different than the way he preferred. "You know, I had to disintegrate so very many necromancers the last time I visited, I thought it best that I return and see that there weren't any more." She recovered a little over the course of that delivery, and allowed herself a small sip of her beer. "I was very impressed getting to see everyone in action, our Captains Blockman and Rodan... but I had heard there was another, whom I did not see in the fray," she added, leading him in with her questioning tone.

Brennan sort of tipped his head to the side and gave Noira a questioning look when she mentioned vaporizing necromancers. "Uhhh . . . . ", a brief look to the side, before he thought of a comeback and gave it a second shot. "Yeah, no more bad guys here. I got my share of them as well. With help from the other Rangers of course." Cue brilliant smile. "That Captain would be Captain Brennan. Only Perrigan doesn't know it yet. But when he hears about how I single-handedly took down a Bone Dragon at the battle of Iron Grove, pfft, I'm a shoo-in." His next sip, he raised his arm enough to give Noira a view of his flexed bicep.

Izira nearly choked on the tea she was drinking.

Noira's teeth clenched together. "That kill was Captain Blockman's... Haddon's... Moriana's... Arillon's... Shann's... and mine," she said through her too-terse smile as her fingers squeeeeeeeeeezed around the handle of her mug. This wasn't going very well.

Brennan was nonchalant to Noira's anger. "Oh, you all got one too? Then you know how tough it is to bring one of them down. Yeah, just a man and his trusty axe, doing his part to rid our fair neck of the woods of evil wherever he sees it. By the way, you don't have a boyfriend or anything, do you?"

Haddon leaned over, with chicken stuck in his teeth. "Hey Brennan, you're spreadin' it awful thick, aren't ya?"

Brennan gave Haddon a warning glare before smiling sweetly at Noira again.

"Several. I will let you know if a vacancy ever opens," Noira replied with a suddenly sweet smile to Brennan, toasted Haddon with her beer, and turned back to the others. Perhaps someone else could tell them about Rhett. Anyone else. Gods and forebears, please let there be anyone else.
A bit surly at the rejection, Brennan leaned back. He finished off his ale then went to find another table to sit at.

Haddon absently picked his teeth with his pinky. "What were you tryin' to accomplish with ol' "Heartbreaker Brennan" over there?"

"Do the hearts in question break when the bile rushes past them?" Noira whispered incredulously to him, but shook it off quickly. "I am trying to find out what Rhett has been up to recently."

"Haw. Well why didn't ya ask me? Hell, me and Mori were on the same Recon team with him for years. I can tell you whatever you want to know."

By this time Moriana had sat down with a full tray next to Haddon to eat her lunch.

"How has he occupied his time with the Rangers recently?" Noira asked him, keeping her voice low. "Anything during our conflict with the cult?" She took up her bar for a bite... and another... and another. It was really good!

Izira had managed to cover up the laugh she made at Noira's expert rejection of the redheaded man. She smirked aside to Gren, patting his leg and listening to the exchange between Noira and Haddon.

Gren smiled back at Izira, then held up his second bar of blueberry crumble with a nod of appreciation.

Haddon tried to eat his chicken and continue. "Perrigan sent him and Janna up north. Waaaay up north. He said Rhett had become too much of a distraction here at the Compound. He told him to take a dozen men there to keep watch on the orc and goblin tribes that gave us trouble five years ago. We haven't really heard much from him in a year or so. He'll probably get an invite to the Ceremony, and if he comes, I don't think he'll be celebrating. He still thinks he's the Number One Ranger in this outfit. He probably thinks he'd get the General position whenever something happened to Westerguard. And Rhett's not the calm, rational type to put it mildly. Haw."

Moriana nodded her head in agreement.

"How had he become a distraction," Noira ventured slowly, cutting up her chicken now, "and what manner of things has he done when he is not... calm?"

Izira bit her tongue, not offering her own experience of Rhett's unsavory behavior.

Haddon looked slightly guiltily at Gren, then back at Noira. "He'd pick on the other Rangers he didn't think were as good as him. Started a lot of fights, not to mention him and Janna. Real arrogant, never thought the rules applied to him. We used to hang around a lot, until me and Mori got to be pals with Gren, here." Haddon gave Gren a rough, one armed hug. "He took that as a betrayal, that's why he didn't want us to go North with him. Not that I care anyway, he was becoming a real pain in the ass, as if he wasn't one already."

Noira nodded slowly. "Thank you, Haddon," she said, retrieving her mug again. "For what it is worth... I am glad that you and Mori were both with us," she looked past them to Gren with a small smile, "when the chips were down, as they say. Cheers," she raised her mug, then drank.

Gren, Haddon, and Mori all raised their mugs as well. "Cheers."

[Gren Blockman]

June 30, 2018



A week later, the main square in front of Perrigan's home was prepared to hold the Ceremony for Rodan's ascension to General. Wooden benches were lined up for the Rangers to sit. There were also guests from the recent battles. Arillon and Shann sat up front with Lady Larette from the Order of the Flaming Crow. Eamond was preparing a feast in the Cafeteria for everyone. Perrigan stood out front in his battle garb: studded leather armor that matched Westerguard's with his grey cloak. Rodan stood nearby, a pleased smile on his face, his raven hair was slicked back and ran down his shoulders. Haddon was next, laughing and rubbing his hands together as if he was about to hit the jackpot, while Moriana just glared at him.

"Please, everyone find a seat, we'll begin as soon as you are ready”, Perrigan said.

Noira made sure her armor was oiled and polished before the ceremony, the leather gleaming almost as much as the steel that studded the various pieces, and her mithril-infused helmet, currently tucked under her arm as she sat beside Moriana and Haddon. She was actually next to Haddon, as she would rather not be between the two of them, and Haddon might whisper something useful. While her cloak was the dark blue of her old Legion’s Banner (though lacking its symbol, brooch, or any other accoutrement), the handsome sash around her waist was the same color as the cloaks of Perrigan’s Rangers, a small sign of her solidarity with them.

Izira had helped Eamond as much as she could to prep before she headed to the ceremony. Now she moved to take up her spot beside Gren. She wore a simply dress in a grey a shade lighter than the rangers. Her hand reached out, taking Gren's. She offered him a smile, leaning in to whisper, "Told you I would be on time."

Gren smiled at Izira and squeezed her hand. "I believed you, I was just worried Eamond would give you a hard time." Gren was wearing his grey Ranger's cloak, blending in with the others, and his battle uniform underneath, closely matching Perrigan. As the last few Rangers and guests settled in, Perrigan raised his hand, signaling he was ready to begin. "Ladies and Gentlemen, today we have gathered to honor four people who have contributed greatly to the success and survival of this guild during the battles from a month ago. We are here today to show our appreciation, and to offer them promotion, in one form or another. We began our ceremony with one who is not a guild member, but who showed great kindness to us by offering her support and advice, as well as showing great prowess in battle." Walking over to Noira at the end of the line, Perrigan held a thin box. "She goes by the name of Ilinoira Abernova Tiranel Sibreth, but she is better known as . . . "

"Bossy Battlemage! Haw Haw!" Haddon interrupted, causing those gathered to laugh.

"I was going to say Noira, Haddon." Perrigan gave him a stern glare, before returning to Noira. "Therefore, this Guild, showing its appreciation for her efforts, bestows upon her an honorary membership to our Ranger's Guild." Perrigan offered the box, there was a grey Ranger's cloak just like the others were wearing, and a silver medal with the words "Honorary Ranger".

Noira stood to accept the box containing the cloak and the medal, and the honor Perrigan bestowed on her in doing so. She looked at the items for only a fraction of a second before she brought her fist up to her breast as she bowed her head, allowing him to put the medal on more easily (not that much easier, given their considerable difference in stature). “I am honored, Headmaster, as I have been honored to fight alongside your Rangers.”

Perrigan smiled to Noira and removed the medal from the box. Moving behind her, he draped it around her neck, fastening the clasp. "Noira, your new honorary Ranger, Ladies and Gentlemen." The audience clapped resoundingly for Noira's award and honorary title.

Izira joined the others in clapping, smiling widely from the crowd toward her friend.

Noira stepped back, turned smartly to face the Rangers, and there was a small but undeniable hint of a smile as she repeated the salute and bow to them. Then she accepted her cloak and returned to her seat.

Perrigan moved past Noira once the audience died down and gave him a look. "Haddon."

Haddon bounced up as fast as his hefty frame would allow him.

"Haddon, your contributions to this Guild have not gone unnoticed by me. Your willingness to take on missions, combined with your lengthy tenure here, have made you a valuable asset to this Guild. Since you will be responsible for training new recruits, it is only fitting that you be given an official title. I am hereby appointing you as Sergeant, the first such appointment in this guild. And Moriana."

Moriana slowly rose to her feet, crossing her arms.

"You too have contributed greatly to our success, and have worked well with Haddon as a team. I will continue that partnership by appointing you as Sergeant as well." Perrigan pinned a silver medal on first Haddon's, then Moriana's cloak. It has the word "Sergeant" emblazoned on it. "Ladies and Gentlemen, your new Sergeants of Perrigan's Rangers." The audience clapped and shouted its appreciation for the two Rangers.

Once more Izira clapped, leaning over to whisper to Gren, "It seems part reward, part punishment to keep Moriana paired with Haddon. I suspect she enjoys it more than she shows, otherwise I am sure she would have flayed him by now."

"That's the truth", agreed Gren, "Plus, I don't think Perrigan can get anyone else to work with those two. Like peas in a pod."

Noira spared a look and a smile aside at Haddon and Moriana as they sat while she finished clapping and inclined her head to them both. She could congratulate them more openly after the ceremony.

Haddon waved happily to the crowd, while Moriana just glared at everyone and immediately sat back down. When the audience stopped applauding, Haddon gave Noira a big bear hug after he sat, causing the audience to start laughing again.

Noira didn’t quite freeze up, but she did look like a deer in the headlights and might have shot Perrigan a brief, pleading look as she simply reached up and patted one of Haddon’s big arms with her free hand.

Izira winced in sympathy for Noira.

Perrigan chuckled and merely walked to the final person there, Rodan, leaving Noira to her plight. "We all know what happened to our great General, Westerguard at Iron Grove. This guild finds itself trying to replace the unreplaceable. Thanks to the leadership and guidance of Captain Rodan, we were able to defeat the threat of the necromancers. His efforts in leading our army back from that dreadful battle showed that he is indeed the best person to fill that vacancy. Captain Rodan, please rise."

Rodan stood up and at attention for Perrigan. "From this moment on, I appoint you General Rodan and acknowledge you as my Second in Command." The medal that Perrigan pinned on Rodan's cloak was made of gold and had the word "General" upon it. "Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you your new General." The audience stood this time and applauded Rodan's new promotion. Rodan gave the audience a gentle smile as Perrigan stood next to him with his hand on his shoulder.

Noira rose and applauded loudly, quickly beaming aside at Moriana and Haddon, then at Gren and Izira if she could find them in the crowd as she clapped for General Rodan.

Haddon and Moriana stood as well, Haddon returning Noira's big smile.

Gren stood and clapped as well, giving a little whistle too.

Izira stood with Gren, clapping politely for Rodan. Unlike the others, she did not know him well, but she trusted the other's input on his placement.

Perrigan raised his hand again after a little while. "Now then, to honor this occasion, I am told that Eamond and Izira have cooked us something special in the Cafeteria, so let's all go enjoy the feast! Thank you all for coming today!" Perrigan waved them towards the Cafeteria as everyone rose from their seat and moved in that direction.

As Noira rose and shifted with the large crowd, she had a moment to congratulate Haddon, Moriana, and Rodan properly. “Congratulations, General,” she dipped her head to him with a smile as she moved through the throng of Rangers towards Gren and Izira.

Rodan nodded, "Congratulations to you as well, Noira." He then walked with Perrigan and the others towards the Cafeteria.

Izira lingered, not in a rush to get to the food. Her hunger had been satisfied while helping. She stood up but waited as the throng moved for Noira to join them. Though she would miss the initial reaction to the rangers finding the barrels of ale she'd brought on a cart from her own store. She smiled at Noira, "Greetings Honorary Ranger Noira."

The elfess laughed warmly, setting one hand on Izira’s shoulder and another on Gren’s. “It has been too long since I have held an official title, friends, even one that is honorary, but I still recall the way it is traditionally celebrated — with food and drink.” Another laugh escaped her as she heard a ‘hurrah’ from the Cafeteria as a fresh keg was tapped.

"Well, congratulations to you Noira, I'm glad to know you'll always have a place here at our guild." Gren said, then looked worriedly at the Cafeteria, "What's going on in there?"

“Based on my keen elvish hearing and my years of military experience, I believe that is the sound of ale”, Noira observed.

"It is good to know my gifts are appreciated." Izira led the way to the Cafeteria, lingering by the door and surveying the room in a hostess-like manner. Gren and Noira were free to help themselves to the spread of food. There was roasted pork, sliced and glistening, and a pulled beef, sitting in seasoned juices. Several types of breads were set out, and various vegetables. A bin of green beans cooked with butter and onions, freshly steamed broccoli, roasted peppers, mashed potatoes with a brown and gray gravy option to the side. There was a bin of mushroom caps, filled with breading and cheese.

"SERGEANTS FIRST!" Haddon bellowed.

"Wait wait wait . . . " Perrigan grabbed Haddon and motioned to Rodan. "I do believe Generals are always first." Rodan laughed heartily and stepped past them, while Perrigan let Haddon go and he bullied his way into second place in the line. "Good thing he didn't see the ale yet", Gren said.

Noira chuckled as Haddon bullied his way into the second spot, satisfied with the place she found with Gren and Izira. It was the promise of drink, of letting her hair down and celebrating with the Rangers, that whetted her appetite, but it looked as though there would be plenty for everyone. “I think tonight, I shall endeavor to be moderate,” the elfess mused, eyeing the barrels in question and the pints neatly lined up. “No more than half a dozen.”

Gren looked nervously at Noira when she made the last statement. "Now take it easy, this is a formal occassion."

Moriana was already finishing off one mug, before giving Gren a glare, then pushing past him to get another.

Gren sighed and focused his attention on the bounty of food. He took a few slices of pork and beef, a decent sized dinner roll, green beans, mashed potatoes with plenty of gravy, and finally some of the stuffed mushroom caps.

Izira stood in line simply to keep Gren company, "Are you going to partake tonight, my love?" She asked with a dip of her head toward the ale.

"I'd better not, one is my limit. I'll just have water if there's no Broot”, Gren replied.

"Aw, come on, Gren, live a little!" Haddon barked from his position in the buffet line.

“And at formal occasions such as this, it is both customary and polite not to burden the generous innkeeper’s cart with anything but empty barrels,” Noira opined, as she observed one mug after another being snatched off of the table. Toasts were raised. Ale was spilled. There was rich, loud laughter.

[Gren Blockman]

In the excitement of the food and the ale being passed around, it was missed, at first, the new entrant who pushed his way through the door of the bustling Cafeteria. He had short blond hair, a dimpled chin, well-built, wearing a maroon shirt and tan pants instead of the usual grey cloak. He momentarily glared around at the party taking place. "SO . . . " He called out, loud enough for everyone to hear him " . . . you all go and throw a party and don't bother to tell me? What's the big occasion? Huh? Gren rescue a cat from a tree? Brennan finally got laid?"

Everyone wearing a grey cloak stopped and stared at him. You could probably have heard a pin drop on cotton.

Perrigan spoke first. "You were invited. And you know you were. Come, Rhett. Celebrate with your fellow Rangers."

Noira lifted her chin as she turned to stand beside Gren and stare at Rhett. “I feel as though I utter these words often, yet I do not believe I will get on well with this man,” she said aside to Gren and Izira.

At Rhett's arrival Izira's face looked as though she'd eaten something disagreeable. She schooled it quickly. It appeared that time and distance had made no change in the man. "Indeed."

Rhett curled his lips up in a haughty smile. "No, Headmaster, I'm not in the mood to celebrate. Seems I heard a little rumor, something that provoked me to come all the way from that hellhole up North you've got me stationed at to see for myself." Six grim faced Rangers in dusty cloaks filed in behind Rhett, standing at the door, eyeing everyone present. "It seems our old friend Westerguard has finally passed on. And which of this merry band of misfits does our dear Headmaster deem to bestow his mantle upon?" At this point Rhett had come to stand next to Rodan, who had just taken his seat to eat his meal. "The Duke's son. All royalty and no action. Nepotism at its worst. Our own Ravishing Rodan. Nice hair, slick. Shiny as a mink coat."

Rodan put his fork down and slowly stood. He looked at Rhett for a few moments, then extended his hand. "Rhett, let's be civil here. Work together with me. For the good of this guild."

Rhett gave Rodan an incredulous look, then shifted his gaze down to Rodan's extended hand.

"What sort of man," Noira called out, taking a step further, "returns from far afield when he hears news that his brothers and sisters fought and died in his absence, that they conducted themselves with such bravery and honor that they have been given the grave responsibility of rank, and comes in with his tongue poisonous with contempt?! What sort of soldier does this to his fellows? I stood and fought at that wall," she pointed to the wall the necromancers had besieged, "while Rodan held the gate against the undead horde, where we were all prepared to lay down our lives for those who came to us for shelter -- so the least you could do is conduct yourself with the respect and honor your position implies!"

Ever so softly Izira said, "Oh dear..."

Rhett turned his gaze to look at Noira, a blank expression while she finished speaking. Then walking away from Rodan, who still had his hand outstretched, he moved over to Noira. He stared her up and down, then turned to the other Rangers. "Oh, pardon me, it seems I had my facts wrong, this must be our new General! She's got bigger balls than Rodan, I'll give her that!"

Izira moved over to Noira, placing a hand on her friend's shoulder, "Noira, there is no need to bother with a battle of wits with someone so witless."

Noira looked over at Izira for one moment... then grabbed Rhett by the arm to spin him, and with the other she whipped the boiled leather (not metal, mercifully) gauntlet across his face. "You dishonorable cur! I have never before seen an officer so disgrace his position with his words!"

Well, that was certainly more on the level of what Rhett deserved, Izira thought. She looked surprised and a hint pleased that someone finally had the gall to hit the man.

Rhett didn't see that coming, not knowing who Noira was. He blinked a bit in surprise as the leather stung his face. Dabbing at his bloody lip with his fingers, he broke out into low, loud chuckling as his compatriots in the back had reached for their swords. Rhett raised his other hand, and they relaxed their grip on their hilts.

Before the situation could get further out of hand, Perrigan rose and pushed himself between Rhett and Noira. "Alright, this is enough. You've insulted my General and disgraced yourself in front of your guild members . . . "

"AND WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO ABOUT IT? HUH?" Rhett responded angrily. "This is BULL$@#% and YOU KNOW IT. I'm the best Ranger in this Guild! I should be the General! Not him!"

"You were never General material, Rhett. You could never command the respect of your fellow Rangers."

"How the #$%$ would you know?"

"Rhett, this is the last straw, I'm . . . "

"Oh no you're not! You're not going to fire me! Because I QUIT! I've had it with this amateur operation! I'm taking my men, and I'm claiming the North. It's my territory, run by my Guild! And if you try to stop me . . . "

"Is that a threat?" Perrigan inched dangerously close to Rhett. Rhett almost looked afraid for a moment, before his arrogant smile returned. "It's not a threat. It's reality. It's a new day, old man. One you're not a part of any more."

"Then get out of my sight."

Noira stood still when Perrigan came between them, but when the other six Rangers reached for their swords, she slowly moved up to Perrigan's flank. There were no weapons in her hands, but there was a dangerous fury in her gaze and a violent promise in the way her fingers bent in the air. She looked at the six, then at Rhett out of the corner of her eye, to see if he would indeed back off.

Izira stood her ground by Noira and Perrigan, a redness touching the irises of her eyes and a warmth developing in the air around her.

Rhett was still grinning, blood slowly trickling down his chin. He slowly stepped back towards the door. "Any of you want out of this chicken*@#$ outfit, then now's the time." After a few moments of silence, two Rangers stood up and walked to the door. Brennan put his ale down and followed them. Rhett clapped him on his back. "Alright, Brennan, you do have a pair." Rhett then looked at Haddon and Moriana. "What about you two? Are you going to turn your back on your old friend?"

Haddon narrowed his eyes at Rhett. "Old is right. I'm doing just fine here."

Moriana nodded in agreement.

Rhett shrugged, "Your loss, pal." Then he eyeballed Izira's figure, running his thumb along his chin. "I do miss the sight of you, Izira. You'll have to come visit me up North, heh. Later, chumps." Rhett finally turned his back and was the first out the door. His six bodyguards and the others followed out behind him.

Izira's teeth grit, though the features of her face, a look of wary readiness did not give away the disgust she felt. She yearned to punish him for his behavior and treatment of others. It had been a long time since she had felt a need as such. Her irises burned redder, watching the door that the man had left through. "If I never see that face again it will be too soon."

"I apologize, Izira." Noira let the apology hang for a second before she continued, "The next time, I shall endeavor to knock out a molar with my strike." Then she turned and bowed her head to Perrigan. "I apologize for striking a man in your halls, Headmaster. The dishonor he brought was too much to bear."

Perrigan's gaze did not leave the door. Noira's words snapped him back to reality. "You did what I believe everyone in this room wanted to do. This was going to happen sooner or later. I'm only sorry it had to be during our Ceremony.”

Rodan put his hand on Perrigan's shoulder. "He stopped being worthy of us years ago. We are better with him gone."

"And those low enough to walk out with him." Izira smiled apologetically, though she meant every word she said in response to Rodan's words.

Noira tucked her gauntlets back into her belt, and looked over her shoulder at Izira and Gren, and their expressions, then at Perrigan and Rodan, and how somber they had become... and said, "Come. There is still good, hot food to fill our bellies, and ale to share among our brothers and sisters."

Rodan smiled and nodded to Izira and Noira, then tried to move on from the ugly scene. "Indeed, we shall! Don't let this fine ale and good cooking go to waste!" The others in attendance voiced their agreement as Rodan returned to his seat to eat his meal, and everyone else followed suit.

Perrigan still looked perturbed, but seeing the others stir, he returned to his seat as well.

Izira's eyes had not exactly returned to their usual color. She dipped her head to Noira and Gren, "If you both will excuse me? I find I am in need of some air. Please, enjoy the food and drink. Eamond and I did work hard on it."

Noira looked after her friend with clear concern, but nodded slowly, intending to check up on her when she stepped out for a smoke later. "Come on, Gren. Let's find a table with the Sergeants and eat," she said with an encouraging nod and small smile to him.

Gren looked worriedly at Izira as she went to leave the building. He didn't like to see her hurting, but he allowed Noira to tug him over to a chair and he sat to finish his meal.

[Gren Blockman]

July 14, 2018




Gren received an urgent message from Rodan while he was at the Inn the a few weeks later. Noira volunteered to go with him, so they rode off that morning. Entering the Compound, they moved to Perrigan's office. Entering the door, they saw Perrigan sitting at his desk, perusing a vellum scroll. Rodan stood behind him, tilting his head to try to read it as well. Perrigan looked up when Gren and Noira entered. "Ah, welcome, you two. Have a seat. I have some rather interesting news." Gren obeyed and sat in one of the chairs on the opposite side of his desk.

“Thank you, Headmaster.” Noira sank into a seat, tucking a few stray strands that had escaped her bun behind a pointed ear. She was not in any of her armor, having not intended to need any of it today, but she wondered whether that would remain the case... Her gaze ticked to the scroll, but otherwise remained steady on Perrigan’s.

"This scroll was delivered to me by one of my contacts up North that still remains loyal to this guild. His name is Ormos, and he runs a magical shop in New Mandrietta. It's more of a curiosity shop, but I don't want to burst the poor man's bubble. Anyway, Ormos tells me that he has seen more than one black robed figure passing through the streets in the last few days. One of them stopped in his establishment, looking for magical items. Of course, Ormos didn't have much to offer. In his clumsiness he bumped into this mage, and one of the bags on his waist fell and burst open. It was all bones. The black robed man cursed Ormos, shoved him down, gathered the bones, and ran from the shop. Needless to say, this all sounds incredibly coincidental, wouldn't you agree?" Rodan smiled and nodded.

"The chickens have flown the coop”, Noira mused, "I am not at all surprised that whatever remains of the cult has gone far afield to avoid your justice... but New Mandrietta is rather far north. Is this Rhett's territory?" she asked, frowning.

Perrigan nodded solemnly. "Therein lies the dilemma. Now, honestly, I shouldn't even recognize that as Rhett's territory. That area has been my responsibility for years, and I don't want to just hand it over to Rhett. However, I do need to be discreet here. I have no idea what Rhett's game is, or if he's been planning this little mutiny for a long time. I don't believe stealth will help us, since he knows everyone in the guild. Perhaps it's time we paid the North a visit and see just how much of a stranglehold Rhett really has up there."

Noira looked over at Gren, then back at Perrigan. "Whatever impression I may have made on Rhett, I would be less recognizable to his fellow traitors," she declined to use the term Rangers to describe them, "or what spies he may have in his employ, than any of your Rangers would be. I had intended to leave your territory before the summer ended, so that I could journey north beyond the mountains and back before the high passes become too deadly to cross... but I can leave all the sooner if needed, and adjust my route to aid you. Is there a map available?" she asked with a polite dip of her head.

"Since you're going that way . . . I'm going too." Gren nodded and smiled to Noira, although he figured she would volunteer. Perrigan set the scroll down and shifted a paper around so Noira and Gren could see it. His finger traced a route along a northern path, from the village of Violet Crossing, past Blackthorn Tavern, then Honey Ridge, towards a spot on the map in the northernmost mountain range. "Mandrietta was an outpost of ours before the orc & goblin war about five years ago. It was leveled but rebuilt soon after. It is now a ramshackle little village, full of miners, traders, and adventurers. It's one of the few settlements in those parts. You can begin by seeking out Ormos. He runs "Ormos' Magical Wares and Supplies" on the main street across from the Gold Exchange. He can update you if he's seen anything else. If you happen to see Rhett, or any of his compatriots, let me know as well. I wouldn't mind all the information I can get before I send my troops up there in force."

"If we are discovered, he and his men may come at us with arms and deadly intent," Noira said, after another look at Gren, surprised by his offer. The road would be a long one, by her understanding. "I can flee or fight under those circumstances, but I ask which, in your wisdom, would be the better option for the good of your Guild."

"For your safety, flee if you can. I don't want open warfare just yet. I need to send more scouts to ascertain just what Rhett's strength is. This was just too good of an opportunity to pass up. Captain Blockman, is there anyone else you'd like to take?"

Gren thought for a moment. "Honestly, I think two people is more than enough for now. Any more and it might look like an invasion." Perrigan nodded. "If you're both agreeable, you may start whenever you like."

"If it is alright with you, Gren, the sooner, the better," Noira said. "I had intended to go further, beyond this range," pointing along the mountains just north of New Mandrietta, "and I would rather not return by this route any later in the year than September."

Gren nodded. "We can go as soon as you want. I'll just return whenever we've completed our mission."

Perrigan returned his nod. "It's decided then. Good luck, you two, and be safe."

"Thank you, Headmaster." Noira rose from her seat, then inclined her head to Perrigan and Rodan both. "I hope to see you all before the New Year -- thank you again for all of your hospitality."

"Our pleasure, Noira", Rodan smiled.

Perrigan gave a wave. "Hope the new year will be merrier than the last one."

Gren rose from his seat also, and gave his farewells, before then left the office. "Is there anything you'll need before we make our journey?" He asked.

Noira sighed and shook her head. "All I left at the Inn was a few of my books and a nicer change of clothes, besides a few trinkets... items I can do without for a season. Dried rations, brandy for the colder nights, a new pry bar, some time with the maps you have to compare to my own... and a horse, if one can be spared until my return. The last may be a tall order, and I can always see a horse master before we leave."

"I'm sure that won't be a problem. We can go to the guardhouse and requisition everything we'll need. It might be a good idea for me to use a different horse, I wouldn't want Alfred mouthing off to anyone." Gren led the way back to the gate and the guardhouse. He gave the door a quick knock, then pushed inside. Grace was sitting at the front desk and looked up as Gren & Noira entered. "Grace, we're going on a mission up North, we need to requisition a few things. I'll need some dry rations and a horse, one that doesn't talk." He gave her a knowing look.

"Are there many horses with mortal language here?" Noira asked with a puzzled frown between Grace and Gren. "I had not known it to be such a common phenomenon..." She trailed off as she thought of additional supplies she would need from Grace and rattled them off as needed. The pry bar, and a new grappling hook, an additional length of rope (fifty feet), a few more pitons, a flask of oil, and a whetstone. The various sundries one thought of when one considered journeying alone for a quarter of the year.

"Not really. We do have a section of the forest with talking animals. We try to protect them as much as possible, poachers like to kidnap them and sell them”, Gren replied.

Grace's eyes widened a bit at the long list Noira gave her, but she didn't deny her or Gren. "Give me a few minutes to get this together." Not long after, there were two normal horses waiting in front of the guardhouse, loaded with the supplies that Gren and Noira had requested. While they were waiting Gren had written a letter to Izira to let her know where they would be. "Please deliver this to the Inn, will you, Grace?"

"Yes sir, Captain Blockman!" Grace gave Gren one of her spunky salutes, then out they went to mount their new steeds.

Noira took her time saddling her steed and checking the weight of her gear, placing it carefully, and taking time to get to know the shaggy horse. It was a little hot and uncomfortable in this weather, even north of RhyDin, but as they progressed into the mountains and the year wore on, the horse (named "Walnut," according to a squire who helped around the stables) would be more comfortable. "It is strange to be leaving under these circumstances... necessary, but strange," the elfess admitted as she climbed onto her mount. "But I am glad to have your company for the first part of the journey," she looked over at Gren with a friendly smile.

Gren smiled back at Noira. "Hey, I hope you find something up there. I know there are a lot of adventurers in New Mandrietta, looking for gold and treasure. Maybe you'll get some valuable information." Gren checked his bags as well. His horse wasn't as shaggy as Walnut, but he did look like he had seen his share of years. He petted the black mane of Ezekiel. "You don't have a problem with being my mount, do you, Ezekiel?" Ezekiel looked at Gren and snorted. Gren frowned a bit. "Ah well. Let's go." Swinging up onto Ezekiel's back, they rode out the gate on the first leg of their journey, to Violet's Crossing. "I don't think I've been in this area for years."

"I have been near it twice last year, but never directly through any of these settlements," Noira admitted, lazily directing her horse to one side of the path. There certainly wasn't much traffic to mind out this way, few wagons to yield the road to. "But it has been since early in the spring that I undertook travel with any company – adventurers, as you say," she laughed softly. "We are an odd sort, I suppose... a number of former soldiers such as myself, yes, but also idealistic farm hands dreaming of glory, the brooding descendants of exiled royalty, assassins with checkered pasts..."



July 16, 2018



Over the course of two days, Noira covered both her adventures and misadventures in search of treasure since coming to RhyDin, including a few in the company of her old friend Gemethyst, a nearly disastrous raid of an ancient emperor's tomb filled with jade treasures, and the recovery of an artifact for a terrifying occult priestess, whom she actually blushed over when she mentioned her. "...and that is why you should never take medical advice from a wereboar, especially if you plan on camping in the dungeon."

Gren had a bewildered look on his face over the talk of a wereboar. "I can honestly say you don't ever have to worry about me taking any kind of advice, let alone medical, from a wereboar." Noira had the strangest companions sometimes, he thought. He was about to make that comment but closed his mouth as it could have been taken the wrong way about him. The track they were following wound around a grassy hill as it approached the higher peaks of the Northern mountain range. Coming into view was a collection of shabby, unorganized wooden buildings that constituted the hamlet known as New Mandrietta. Wagons bustled up and down the mountain track, and they could see people shuffling about the streets. Other than the dingy atmosphere, they got more than a few sideways glances as they rode up the main thoroughfare. "Doesn't seem like a very pleasant place”, Gren said to Noira under his breath.

"Mountain towns rarely are”, Noira intoned to him, now taking greater care to keep their mounts close. She searched the faces she saw as she passed, looking for any necromancers or any of Rhett's goons, or the man himself. "They can be hard places to live, and there can be little trust or much of anything else to share... Aha. Is that the Gold Exchange up ahead, with the line?"

Gren peered up the street as Noira pointed. There was a line of adventurers, some with sacks over their shoulders, waiting to see the clerk at the Gold Exchange. There was a window in front of the store where they would go up and hand any gold they had found to exchange it for money or supply vouchers. Looking across the street, Gren saw a curious domed shaped building, painted in purple. There were strange vines curling up the walls, and a sign above the door written in calligraphy that said, "The Great Ormos / Magical Wares and Supplies / Gold and Silver Nobles Accepted". Gren blinked once.

Noira pulled her horse closer and whispered aside to Gren, "I do not believe this establishment to be a trustworthy source of magical artifacts." Call it a hunch. She found a place to tie off their horses and looked over their shoulders at the crowds once more, waiting for Gren to enter before she followed him inside.

"That's putting it mildly." Gren tied Ezekiel next to Walnut, then pushed through the old wooden door of the shop.

[Gren Blockman]

There were high shelves filled with all manner of junk: Books, trinkets, powders, little wooden good luck charms. A weird smell pervaded the place, mostly like sulfur. Gren kind of waved away the fumes from his nose.

"Good Morning! I don't mean Good Afternoon, or Good Evening, but Good Morning! Welcome to you two travelers from The Great Ormos!" A stumpy looking man appeared from behind one of the shelves. He had a curious set of goggles on his face. The top of his head was bald, but he did have long grey hair running down his back. He had robes as purple as the walls of his shop. As he approached them, he rubbed his hands together. "Let me guess, A Mage? An Enchanter? No, a Conjurer! Well we have all sorts of wonderful items for you to peruse. I would remind you that we accept only cash. Not Credit, not Rabbit Pelts, just Cash! Is there anything in particular I can find for you? Not steal, Not borrow, but find!"

"Battlemage”, Noira decided to answer him as she pulled her helmet off of her head for a better look at him and his wares. "And I thank you for the welcome, O Great Ormos..." Despite the content of her words, the tone was far more distracted than reverent, taken aback by the variety of components here, though they were far more fitting for a witch or a shaman... or a sucker. "We appear to have come to the right establishment, for finding is exactly what we need to do. We are friends of a friend," she looked then to Gren and back to Ormos, raising her eyebrows as she added, "who have heard that you ran into a black-robed gentleman with a bag of bones."

Ormos' look of greed turned into one of shock. "Oh! Oh! Oh! You must be Perrigan's Rangers! Not Brallin's! Not Rhett's! But Perrigan's! Thank goodness you've come! Oh, my poor wares." Here he patted a little marble frog as if it was a priceless treasure. "It's a wonder that brute didn't wreck all my precious commodities! Come right in! Don't dawdle, don’t lollygag, but come in!" Waving with a hand, Ormos disappeared behind the shelves again. Gren blinked and looked around, then tried to pick out where he had vanished at. "I've known Perrigan from way back! Not last year, not last decade, but WAY back!"

"Last century?" Noira hazarded doubtfully as she picked her way behind the shelves after him the best that she could. He seemed a surprisingly spry little man. "Have Rhett or his people been to visit your shop?"

"Ah, so you've heard! Rhett claims this as his territory! Yes, yes, I have seen him many times. Not seldom, Not rarely, But often! He and his Rangers have started a protection racket. They charge us vendors for the safety that Perrigan gave us for free! It's disgraceful! Not honorable, Not respectable, But DISGRACEFUL!" As Gren and Noira threaded through the tight aisles, Ormos suddenly popped up, holding up what looked like a ragged hex sign shaped like a compass stitched on fabric that was falling apart. "Can I interest you in this Antique Hex? Hang it in your wagon and you will ward off evil spirits who are trying to make you lose your way! Not helpful, not constructive, but harmful evil spirits!"

"We do not have a wagon, but thank you," Noira managed with a soft laugh and a hand up as she followed him. "Have you seen any other figures like the man you saw? and has Rhett asked about them as well?"
"Ah well, something else, perhaps." Ormos then shambled off into another part of the shop. "Yes, yes, I have seen several of the black robed people. Powerful magic, I can feel it! Not weak, not feeble, but powerful magic! Many of the citizens here are afraid, as well they should be!"

Gren and Noira finally made it to the far end. There was a counter where Ormos made his deals, and a little table where it looked like he fiddled with his "magical charms". A blue lizard sat on the table, and slowly shifted its eye in Gren & Noira's direction, absently flicking its tongue out. "Don't be afraid of Cuddles there, he's a harmless lizard! Not dangerous, not deadly, but harmless!" Ormos suddenly appeared from behind a stack of books and sat down at the table with Cuddles, gesturing to two chairs at the table. "Sit down! Don't stand, don't lay down, but sit!"

Noira shrugged a shoulder at Gren, her armor shifting quietly, and sat down in the offered seat. "Thank you, Ormos. I am sorry to press to the heart of the matter so quickly, but it is important that we move quickly now that we have entered town. The black robed figures -- where have you seen them about town? and have Rhett and his people taken any notice of them, or asked you about them?"

"Ah yes! To the heart of the matter! But first, try some of my Famous Ormos Potion! It gives you great strength! Protects you from the bony men! Clears your mind! Not cloud! Not confuse! But clear it!" Ormos pours a smelly, wickedly bubbling purple potion into two glasses and shoves them at Gren & Noira. Gren looked at the potion with obvious fear and refused to touch it. "Now then, Rhett asked me about the black robed men, yes he did. He wanted to know where I had seen them as well. There is a hotel on the far end of town, called the Falling Moon. I did see one go in there! Used my powerful Goggles of Super Sight I did!" Ormos pointed to his rather large glasses. "I told him the same as I've told you!"

If Ormos knew Elvish, then he knew that Noira had just sworn. Maybe he could tell by the look on her face, anyway. "How long ago was this?" She hadn't touched the potion, though her fingers rested around the base in a show of at least considering it.

"I told him four days ago. Not two, not three, but four! He said he didn't want to do anything about it until he could get a mage in case something went wrong. I offered my help, but he refused! He told me to can the jokes and stay in my little freak sideshow! That was horribly rude! Not nice, not kind, but rude! I would have shown them a thing or two. It is hard to find someone who knows the magical arts this far North! That is probably why he hasn't made a move yet."

Noira tapped her fingers on the table, looked aside at Gren again, then back at the old magician -- or antiquarian -- or eccentric. Whichever he was, she needed a promise from him: "Ormos... can you do both of us a favor and not tell Rhett that you ever had this conversation, or that either of us were ever here?"

"Oh! Of course! I always help my good friend Perrigan and his Rangers! That's why I wrote him as soon as I told Rhett what happened! Don't worry, my lips are sealed! Not open, not loose, but sealed!"

"I am sorry to cut this visit short, but I think we should get going -- yes, Gren?" As soon as she passed the conversation over to him, she turned her head, narrowed her focus... and one ear twitched, angled towards the front door, attempting to perceive any unusual sounds. The elfess may well have been paranoid, but it had served her well in the past.

"Yes, I think we've got everything we need. I'm not thirsty, sorry." Gren said, referring to the purple drink that was still bubbling furiously. If Noira's ears were sharp enough, there were sounds of low chuckling and muttered commands outside the front door.

Noira suddenly frowned and brought up a finger for silence. “Someone is out front, guards... or worse. Is there a back door?” she asked Ormos very, very quietly as she rose from her seat, ready to move.

Ormos blinked he eyes, then stood. "Yes! Back door! Not front, not side, but back! Follow me!" Pushing past a purple curtain, Ormos led them through a storeroom full of boxes, cages, and piles of junk. "Good luck in your search! Tell Perrigan I said hello! Not Goodbye, not Farewell, but Hello!" Ormos pushed open a back door. There standing with five other men was Rhett, arms folded across his chest, with a cocky smirk on his face.

"Dreamboat! Now did you think you were going to walk into my town without me saying Hello?" Rhett said, looking at Gren. Behind them, they could hear Rhett's men that were standing outside the front door, pushing their way through the shop.

“What do you want with us, Rhett?” Noira asked coolly. The battlemage’s hands were empty, with nothing but a helmet tucked under her arm and a simple knife at her belt; but perhaps they had not heard what she was capable of.

Gren gave Rhett a steely gaze.

Rhett seemed to ignore him as he focused his attention on Noira. "Well, well. We meet again. Is that her?" Rhett's attention went to one of his men that had followed them into the storeroom. It was Brennan.

Brennan nodded with a smirk. "Yep. The Battlemage. Hey, sweetheart." Brennan gave Noira a little wink.

Rhett smirked and looked back at Noira. "What do I want with you? That's a very good question. You see, you slapped me. Right across the face. And I've been thinking about a way that you can make it up to me. You see, I'm sure Ormos the Little Troll told you . . . Oh yeah, you can leave, Troll." Rhett waved at Ormos, who looked frightened and scuttled off back into the shop. "Anyway, I was thinking you could do me a favor. To make up for your . . . unwarranted attack. I'm in need of a mage. The ones around here are either incompetent like you-know-who, or cost way too much money." Rhett snapped his fingers and pointed at Noira. "I know, you could help me take out that nasty little necromancer. We could scratch each other’s backs here, right? I'll take that as an apology, and I'll let you and Dreamboat here walk out of New Mandrietta alive. That sounds like a hell of a deal to me, right guys?" The other Rangers chuckled and nodded their heads.

“Or I could kill you where you stand,” Noira said flatly, “in the same moment that Brennan’s body bursts into flame. I do have great interest in being rid of this necromancer, and no interest in apologizing to a gang of bandits and thugs. Step back, Rhett.”

Rhett chuckled long and loud. "I'm sure you could. Then my boys here will kill the both of you in a rush. And here I thought you were the brains of this little operation."

Gren spoke up. "What you're saying Rhett, is that you need our help. If you didn't, you would have killed us already."

Rhett's face tightened. "You're making me question that decision right now. How about you take out Mister Black Robe, then I beat you to a pulp before I throw you out of my town?"

"We'll deal with the necromancer, Rhett. Just stay out of our way."

Rhett scratched his chin and smirked again. "You see, that's not good enough. I need to know you've finished the job. So me and my boys are going to watch. If I like what I see, you two can walk. If not . . . . ?" Rhett shrugged his shoulders and left it there.

“Then he’ll murder us in cold blood, because that’s what bandits do,” Noira finished for Rhett, though she looked over her shoulder at Brennan. “Murder and steal. If you come to us for blood when we are finished with the necromancer, know that you will be repaid in kind.”

"Oh, sweetheart, nothing would make me happier." Rhett chuckled darkly again, then held up a hand. "But let's focus on one fight at a time. I do believe that our mutual nemesis is located in the Inn of the Falling Moon? Alright everybody, let's take a walk." Rhett waved his hand over his head and motioned the group down the side street. Brennan gave Gren a shove, and with a grimace, Gren began walking. Rhett's gaze landed on Noira as if seeing what she'd do.

“If anyone touches me, I am keeping the offending hand,” Noira said as she tugged Gren away from Brennan. Otherwise? She fell in.

[Gren Blockman]

Rhett's smirk never left his face as he and a dozen other Rangers followed Gren and Noira down the street. The narrow track contained rickety houses and trash was carelessly left on the wooden sidewalks. Rhett clapped his hands on Gren's shoulders. "So Grenny, how's life treating ya?"

"I'm doing just fine, Rhett. Other than the part where I ran into you."

"Let's be civil here, Dreamboat. We're doing each other a favor here, remember. So, why don't you tell me what Perrigan's plans for me are, huh? Is he going to invade the North?"

"Now why would I tell you about that?"

"I don't know, I would think you'd be happy to have me out of the way, way up here with the orcs and the goblins. It seems like a good arrangement, doesn't it?"

"I'm sure Perrigan will deal with you when he's ready."

Rhett's face fell a bit, "Eh, he didn't tell you anything, did he? Pffft. Should have known. He's probably sitting in his office with Rodan trying to figure out what the hell went wrong. Those two goody-two-shoes will probably just send a few scouts up here to annoy me first." The side street looped back around to the main thoroughfare, and they continued, drawing stares from the townsfolk. Rhett waved at them as if acknowledging his adoring crowd.

“Would it kill you and the rest of your marching band of ex-Rangers to stay around the corner from the hotel?” Noira asked Rhett as they proceeded. “Or would you rather the town you seized become overrun with zombies when your troupe of thugs tips the necromancer off on approach?”

"Aw come on now, where's the fun in that? I would think a spitfire like you could handle anything. If you're not afraid of me, why are you so afraid of one little necromancer? No no, we're going to surround the hotel, so he can't get out. We'll keep him contained for you. See? We're doing our part”, Rhett explained.

Soon, the weathered walls of the Inn of the Falling Moon appeared. There was a sign out front of a crescent moon with a smiling face. Rhett and his men ambled up to the front porch, fanning out in a line. a half dozen ran around the side to cover the back. Rhett crossed his arms, then turned his smirking face to Gren and Noira. "Well? It's showtime, Dreamboat." Rhett said, and gestured to the front door.

“And you wonder why they passed you over for General.” Noira let out a long sigh, pulled her helmet on, and adjusted her stance. A dark and terrible tear in reality appeared above her right hand, soon flickering into being above her left. It felt bitterly cold and made its crackling presence known in the air around them. “On my mark,” she said to Gren. “Three... two... one...!”

"GO!" Gren cried and charged the door, lowering his shoulder. With a painful crash, the door flew in and Gren ran into the lobby. There was an open community room with chairs and a fireplace on the right, and a stunned looking elderly woman with a high, white curly beehive hairdo.

"What's going on here?" She said, putting her hands on her hips.

Gren could hear the whistling of an incoming bolt of energy coming down the steps from the second floor which was located directly across from the front door. Gren quickly grabbed the lady and pushed her back as the bolt slammed into the floor in front of the hotel counter, causing wooden planks to fly up in an explosion. "Where is he?" Gren asked quickly.

"AAAAHHHH!!! Room 206! To the right, to the right!" She screamed, pointing up the steps.

"GO! GO! MOVE IT!" Gren waved at the stunned patrons who had been sitting near the fireplace, causing a brief stampede to the door. Gren was already moving up the stairs, withdrawing his oaken staff.

Noira trailed behind Gren, flattening against the door frame with a snarl as a piece of sizzling wooden debris thunked off of her helmet, and another impacted the boiled leather protecting her armor. She drew the knife from her hip and drew a ragged circle on the interior wall by the door, stabbing it seven times to denote seven stars within. Then she slunk off after Gren, turning her shoulders to part the pushing patrons around her, surprisingly sturdy for her size.

Charging up the stairs, Gren's eyes suddenly went wide as he came face to face with the necromancer who was standing at the top, hands moving in mid spell. He was wearing the black robe, and a skull pendant was dangling around his neck. His pockmarked face had a sneer as he pointed his fingers at Gren's chest. "HEADS UP!" Gren cried, and fell to his face, the sparking bolt sailing overhead to land in the foyer where the other had landed. Gren's dive gave the necromancer time to run down the hallway. As Gren got back to his feet, he saw the necromancer trying to climb out a window.

This one sizzled over Noira's side before it impacted, and she clenched her teeth over the anguished cry rising from her throat as she followed the Ranger. "I don't believe I'm going to let them have you, sir," she growled when she heard the window opening. As soon as he was within sight, the battlemage dropped to a knee by Gren's side, holding her knife out by her chest as she threw out her other hand and pulled it back into a tightening fist. A surge of gravity manifested in the necromancer's room, racing back towards the hallway, tearing up floorboards, toppling furniture, and taking the hapless cultist with it.

The necromancer screamed and clawed at the window frame, before the force of the spell ripped him backwards and straight towards Gren and Noira. Gren leaped onto the man, trying to pin his arms back as the necromancer flailed and struggled, seeking escape. With a desperate twist of his arm, he got one hand free, and wrapped his fingers around his pendant, beginning to mouth the words to a spell.

"Keep him still... keep him still...!" the elfess grunted as she scrambled past a broken tea table to get at the pair of grappling and flailing bodies. She kept trying to grab his face, biting her tongue to stifle another yell when he bit her in retaliation... but his teeth's hold on her meant she could still tighten her gauntleted fingers around his jaw. Her eyes went black, glittering with starlight, and she reached deep into her well of magical power for a pulse of entropy to work its way through his flesh. It was like disintegration, but in a way more terrible -- the rapid breakdown of matter as her magic nullified all the bonds that held his flesh together to reduce his body to cosmic dust.

The necromancer screamed louder than the last time as his body began to fly apart, his outburst cutting off the spell he was trying to conjure. Gren staggered back and away from the man, who clutched his chest in agony before he slowly collapsed into a pile of dust on the floor. His black robe and pendant lay nearby. Gren's eyes widen at the sight. " . . . . whoa." After standing there awkwardly for a few seconds, he remembered where he was. "Now that we've taken care of that mess, do you have any ideas on how to get out of here and way from Rhett?"

Noira exhaled, and her eyes returned to their normal shade. "I drew a circle by the front door," she whispered as she crawled off after the pendant as it settled nearby, "and if fortune decides to favor us, we can use it to get away. Would you gather up his robes? I would rather not they take credit for our kill, though they may anyway. Then mask your nose and mouth, and creep over to the window. The spell will go off as soon as someone approaches from outside..."

"You got it." Gren balled up the robes, tucking them beneath his left arm, then used his right hand to cover his mouth and nose. Stealthily he shifted around to the window, being careful to stay out of eyesight should someone be looking inside. Crouching down and to the right of the window, he gave Noira a nod, ready for whatever she had prepared.

The elfess closed her hand thoughtlessly around the pendant, but even through the gauntlet she could feel something cold. "Nnh!" Her eyes clenched shut as her hand tightened shakily around the trinket, and her tan, freckled features grew decidedly paler... There was a WHOOMF from the front door, and all around the first floor of the hotel now was a massive, swirling cloud of glittering, choking, burning dust. Someone had approached the circle. Noira shook her head rapidly, trying to focus again as she crept over to the window.

Gren saw Noira's expression and he briefly lowered his hand from his face, staring at her in concern. He was going to ask what happened when the disruption downstairs could be heard. Loud shouting, swearing, and coughing could be heard as Rhett and his crew had apparently tried to see the result of the commotion in the hotel. Gren gestured to Noira to hurry, then whispered quickly, "Are you alright?"

Noira nodded, the pain now subsiding though the chill lingered. She pulled a bandanna over her nose and mouth and said, muffled, "Let us leave this place." She climbed quickly out the window, dropping the short distance and landing with a pained grunt. The dust clouds provided them a lot of cover, but she had made some noise landing. They'd have to move quickly.

Shifting his weight up and through the window frame, Gren dropped with a crouch beside Noira on the side street below. Through the first floor window Gren could hear Rhett yelling at his men.

"@#$%@$# OPEN THE DOOR! FIND A $#@%@# WINDOW!"

The sound of grunting and the smashing of furniture could be heard as Gren and Noira quickly ran up the street. "Let's get back to the horses!"

"Right!" Noira could feel a sluggishness in her limbs that hadn't been there a minute ago, like she'd been on her feet all day, but she had the strength to power through it as she raced after the Ranger at a full sprint, up the street towards their mounts. "Do you think they'll try to run us down?!"

Gren laughed, looking over his shoulder at the ruckus Noira's spell caused. "Yeah, if they can figure out what happened." Suddenly, a smashing of glass could be heard, as one of the rangers found a window and busted it out with the tip of his staff. "Crap! Hurry, we can make it!" The people on the street had stopped and stared, not only at the exploding inn, but at Gren & Noira running away from it. Gren lifted the black robe over his head and waved it like a flag, causing the crowd to cheer and clap as the two tried to make their getaway.

Noira saw them looking and heard them clapping, and as soon as she'd climbed up onto her horse, she held up a fist, the necromancer's pendant still dangling from it, the silver chain wrapped thrice around her hand. "Perrigan's Rangers!" she cried out and pulled at her reins as she readied to gallop after Gren.

Gren had climbed onto Ezekiel and shouted along with Noira. "Perrigan's Rangers!" The shouting from the crowd grew louder from the majority of citizens who were still loyal to Perrigan.

Ormos had peeked out his door when he heard the shouting and clapping, then gave a look of joy seeing Gren and Noira. "Thank you, Rangers! And farewell! Not hello, Not well met, But farewell!" He waved at them as they rode off down the street, leaving a cloud of dust behind them.

[Gren Blockman]

July 18, 2018





Izira stood behind the bar, checking glasses and cleaning them. A family of gnomes sat at one of the tables, having a quiet meal. They looked kind, if down on their luck. Izira smiled widely to the young girl, who smiled back. "Let me know should you need anything else."

"Ms. Nyte, you have been far generous enough." The father said.

"Yes, someday we must repay your kindness”, said the mother, holding a baby to her breast as it fed and patting the head of a younger son.

"Your safety and health are thanks enough." Izira picked up a pitcher, moving to the table and refilling their water. "Take my word on that."

Two days of travel to the Forgotten Layers had taken a small toll on Noira, though it seemed to increase steadily with each passing day. She remained rather pale, as if ill, though she had no fever; instead she seemed cold, and on the last leg of their journey on a warm summer day, had bundled herself up tightly in her cloak, her arms folded, reins in hand as she trotted after Gren. Two mornings in a row, she had awoken after him, starting her day sluggishly when she was normally an early riser, and quick to awaken and become active. She was rarely hungry and often thirsty, though the feeling of her body being badly out of balance did not change in the slightest when she drained an entire bucket from a well. The pendant remained tucked out of sight, its silver chain hidden by the long bandanna she now wore like a scarf in an effort to keep herself warm.

Gren had noticed the change in Noira on the return trip. He tried to be as helpful as he could, but he was no doctor. As they left Ezekiel and Walnut in the stables, Gren followed Noira inside. "Maybe you just need a nice, long sleep in a comfortable bed. And a decent meal. Izira could probably cook you something . . . . OH GOD." Gren saw the gnome mother breast feeding her infant and immediately slapped his left hand over his eyes.

Gren's cry out caught Izira's attention. She looked up from pouring water for the kids and gave her lover a perplexed look.

"It's perfectly natural, son." The gnomish woman chuckled, but then frowned at seeing Noira's state. "Is your friend well?"

Izira set the jug of water down on a table as she moved to the pair, Gren's response to the breastfeeding woman put out of her mind as she also laid eyes on Noira. Gren was given a quick kiss on the check before she went to Noira, reaching to feel her forehead. "What happened?" She asked with concern laced through her voice.

Noira looked up wearily, though to be fair, this was as much from the sickness as it was at Gren's reaction. "Oh, by the venerable fathers, Gren... 'Tis only a mother providing a meal." She gave the gnomish woman a smile and a decent amount of space, not wanting her to worry about infection as she explained, "Just a small fever, I think. It will pass soon enough." Though when Izira touched her forehead, she was cool to the touch. Quite cool.

Gren hadn't moved from his position, even after the gnomish woman spoke, Izira kissed him, or Noira chided him. Like a statue he remained with his eyes covered.

"It's no fever I have known. You're nearly cold to the touch." Izira drew her hand away but the concern remained.

The gnomish woman was not put off at all, she handed the baby off to her husband, "Mind the little one, luv." She stood up, covering her chest again as she moved over toward the trio. "Pardon my intrusion. May I?" She gestured her hand toward Noira. Speaking over a shoulder, "Ye can uncover your eyes lad, I've put the goods away."

Noira frowned with concern at Izira's reaction, and how it drew the gnomish woman's attention, too... though her remark to Gren drew a curve of a smile at her, putting her somewhat at ease. She knelt so she could be checked more easily by the much shorter woman, grunting with the effort not to simply lie down right there as her heavy pack hit the floor.

Gren's index and middle finger parted to allow him to peek through and see for himself that the coast was clear. Any verbal retort would have to wait, as concern for Noira took precedent. He finally lowered his hand and watched as the gnomish woman began inspecting Noira.

The woman did not feel the forehead but touched both hands to Noira's cheeks as she closed her eyes. Small hands patting around, the smaller woman frowned. She clicked her tongue. Izira waited to the side, patiently and quietly.

Physically, Noira was cold to the touch, she looked pale, she seemed to be weakened by sickness... Digging deeper, there was an apparent thread, a link between the elfess and the realm of the dead, the Veil, anchored by and knotted with ever-increasing intricacy through the necklace she now wore around her neck, starting from the moment she had first touched it.

The smaller woman pulled her hands away, looking to Izira, "It is no natural ailment, but I cannot follow the cause. I am sorry. We had to leave our homeland before I could finish my training." She looked back to her family, then back to Noira. "I do not think it is something I can chase off, with my limited expertise, I think it more foolhardy than helpful to risk it." The smaller woman looked sorry that she could do little else. "There might be a tea I can brew to lessen the effects, though I cannot say how much good it would do and I would not want to get your hopes up."

"A... tea," Noira said, and nodded slowly, though her mind was stuck on no natural ailment. She grunted and shifted her bandanna though the air in here made her shiver, and lifted out a pendant with her gloved fingers, adorned with a glassy black skull with fiery ruby eyes. "I took it... from a necromancer we slew, in New Mandrietta," she said, looking up at Izira at that. "I did not want to leave Rhett with any evidence he could use to claim our kill."

"Hey . . . " Gren started, pointing his finger at the pendant. "The necromancer was trying to use that to cast a spell. Could there be some magical power in that pendant?"

"Ouch. Necromancers." The gnomish woman spoke it like a curse. She did not move to touch it. "That would explain it, you've a feeling of death to you." She tsked again. "Tea will help but it will not cure you. I cannot battle that magic." She shook her head. "I can understand your reasons." She spoke to Noira, looking at the skull pendant. A glance to Gren and she nodded some agreement. The gnomish woman looked at the pendant, "It might have started there, but it could be well within you now. " She paused, looking the woman over, "You are a magic user?"

Noira nodded slowly. "Sorcerous magic, something that has been a part of me since it affected me as a child... a magical bond to the heavenly bodies," she said. She remained kneeling there. Kneeling was easier, now that she'd stopped standing, and wasn't sure she wanted to try standing again.

"I will get my bag. A bath with some herbs. Then tea. Then rest." The woman looked up to Izira, "Lady, if I may impose on you?"

"No imposition. Noira keeps a room here. I will show you the way." Izira said with a light touch to Noira's shoulder.

"I will get it set up as quickly as possible." The gnomish woman turned to Gren, "Will you watch over her?"

"Uh, yeah." Attention being placed on him caused Gren to snap into action. Kneeling beside Noira, he steadied her with a hand on her back.

It was a blow to the elfess' pride to have to ask for it, but eventually she held out a hand to Gren and, with his help and his other hand steadying her back, she climbed back to her feet. "That was... unfathomably stupid of me," Noira said with a wince and a sharp shake of her head. "Had I not gone for the amulet, then perhaps Rhett or Brennan or some other brute would have this affliction in my stead... But instead, it is mine, and imposed on all of you..."

"It's alright, Noira, you couldn't have known." Grabbing Noira's hand, Gren gingerly guided her to her feet. "Besides, now we have something of theirs besides a black robe. We may be able to identify where it came from somehow."

Izira simply patted Noira's shoulder to her words, quickly moving off to follow the gnomish woman. Upstairs she wasted no time in helping start the bath, then getting instructions from the smaller woman on how to brew the tea. Izira headed downstairs while the other woman prepared the bath with oils and herbs. The steam from the water and the contents within filled the air with a heavy scent that was hard to place. Izira held a few packets in her hands as she returned, then moved to the bar to get a kettle ready. "Gren, if you will help her up, Ella will have the bath ready shortly."

"Alright, come on, Noira." Gren hooked his arm around Noira's back and led her to the staircase, delicately helping her up the stairs towards the bathroom.

Noira nodded along to Gren's words as she simply hung onto his shoulder with one hand, her eyes tracking restlessly over the common room without apparent cause. "Yes... maybe we can find them, and root them out, for all they have done," she said, and with the Ranger's assistance, made her way up the stairs to her room.

"I'll let the . . . uh . . . woman help with the . . . uh . . . bathing part, you know." Gren turned slightly red and hurried from the bathroom once he got Noira there.

Noira watched Gren go with a small sense of wonder in spite of everything. "That poor man... I do not know how he bears it," she said. But all too soon she was sinking into an herbal bath, letting Ella and Izira's remedies ease her ailment; and for a time, the warmth of the bath did seep into her, giving some color to her pale cheeks. "I am afraid I have created a problem," she admitted to Izira, while she soaked in the bath, "and I have no leads as to how to remedy it. I do not know if... to remove a curse of this nature, I would need... I do not know," she sighed, sinking lower in the water and tipping her head back against the edge. Her eyes slit open to stare at the ceiling. "I do not know how to fix this."

Ella had administered to Noira, helping her into the bath. She refrained from tsking Gren.

Izira, back quickly with the tea, took up a seat by the tub as Noira lowered herself into the hot bath. She was heartened to see even the small positive change in her friend's cheeks. A quiet nod of thanks and a smile to Ella as the smaller woman slipped out. "Noira, you cannot blame yourself. Your thoughts and actions were noble. We will find a way to take this from you." She leaned forward, assisting Noira in taking a sip of the strong tea. Downstairs, Ella returned to her family, taking the babe from her husband. The small being gurgled. "Still hungry I see. Just like your father." Unashamed, she undid her top and returned to feeding the babe.

"Whew . . . well, I'm sure Noira probably wants some more tea, so I'll just casually slip this around the door . . . " Gren was walking out of the kitchen to bring some more tea upstairs, when he saw Ella breastfeeding again. "OH GOD." He slapped his hand over his face again, causing the teacup to land on the floor and shatter.

"My goodness. You'd think a lad of your age would have seen a pair or two already." Ella did not peel herself away from the babe, but her husband moved over, helping to pick up the broken cup.

"Now, now, mother. Be kind to the lad”, said her husband. "Perhaps he has not seen a pair as fine”, the little man chuckled.

Noira heard the teacup shatter downstairs. As Noira finished the strong tea with Izira's help, she looked at her and managed a smile. "Is it bad of me that I assume whatever is happening downstairs, Gren is involved?"

"I doubt it very much it is Ella or her brood. Her children are very well behaved." Izira took the empty cup back, "Will you be alright while I go see? You will likely need more tea." The water didn't seem to lessen in its heat, remaining a welcoming level.

"Is it over? Why are we still talking about chests?" Gren did not move, still with his hand over his eyes, and refusing to say breasts.

"I will keep," Noira assured her. "Thank you, Izira." The smile lingered for a time after she shut her eyes. The persistent heat helped.

A hand rested on Noira's arm a moment, Izira did not want to leave her friend, but thought it best to go see what the sound had been about. She stood, making her way down the stairs. She looked around noting Ella breastfeeding again, Gren covering his eyes, and Ella's husband picking up broken pieces of the teacup.

"The babe will not wait for you to adjust, son.”

"Okay . . . okay . . . okay . . . " Using his free hand to feel around behind him, Gren slowly retreated, bumping into the kitchen door, then hurrying through and behind it.

Gren retreated before Izira could say anything, she moved down the stairs and to the spill.

"Apologies Ms. Nyte." The small man offered as he handed her the broken pieces.

Izira shook her head, "Do not worry." She excused him back to his family, moving to the bar to trade out the cup for a rag, "Gren?" She called toward the kitchen.

"Yes?" He said timidly.

"The bath is doing Noira a bit of good." Izira shared that with him, for the news and to move his mind along. She grabbed a cloth, moving to clean up the spill. At least it was small and quickly handled with the cloth and her warmth.

" . . . that's good. Is . . . uh . . . everything back to normal out there?"

She set the cloth into the sink and peeked into the kitchen, "Not to your level of normal."

"Oh. Uh. Just tell me when it is . . . to my level of normal. I'll just . . . um . . . peel some potatoes."

"Is this how you will be when it is me in that position?" Izira curiously asked. She looked back into the inn and found Ella checking the babe and finding him finished for the time. Pouring another cup of the tea, "It is safe now, love."

"I'd rather not talk about something like that with guests over." A sigh of relief was heard when Izira said it was safe. Gren reappeared with a plate of peeled potatoes. "Need some potatoes, dear?"

"I will make use of them in something." Izira picked up the tea. "Do you want to come up with me?" She dropped her voice, "That babe gets hungry quite frequently."

"YES. Yes, let's go." Gren hurried behind Izira with the plate. "Maybe Noira will want some potatoes."

"Raw potatoes?" Izira led the way, heading into the bathroom. She positioned the chair by the door so Gren could sit yet keep his modesty intact. "I've brought Gren with me Noira."

"Yes, Noira, how are you feeling?" Gren said from behind the door. "I've just been . . . ah . . . peeling some potatoes. Keeping busy, you know."

Izira caught Noira in the process of getting out and drying off. She didn't seem to have any concern about modesty around the innkeeper, though she stayed away from the door for the Ranger's sake. "I am... alright. Feeling warmer, I think. The tea and bath were both very soothing." The necklace was around her neck, and based on the few suds lingering on it, she had worn it into the bath, though at the time she did not appear to notice. She looked at Izira as she got dressed, and whispered: "Peeling potatoes... is that... codefor something?"

Unlike Gren, Izira found no fault with the naked and was not put off by Noira drying herself. More so, she noticed how her friend seemed to be doing better with standing, which was a small relief. "It is code for avoiding a feeding baby." Not at all whispering her response, Izira offered the tea out for Noira, in the process taking note of the pendant with a small crease in her brow.

"Hey, those potatoes aren't going to peel themselves", Gren said in his defense.

"That is true enough. He brought them up here in case you might be feeling hungry... for raw, peeled potatoes”, Izira offered.

Noira looked at Izira as she finished with her shirt. It was a flat look. "Now I might actually be ill," she said, though there was a flicker of a smile. She grabbed a brush and started on her hair as she pushed through the door into her room. "Do you think Malcolm knows about this kind of enchantment?"

"The real question is would he stay awake long enough to tell you if he did." Izira followed Noira out, looking to Gren and his plate of potatoes.

"Hey, uh . . . why don't I put these peeled potatoes away for dinner tonight, and I can ride to Headquarters and fetch Malcolm?" There, that's something constructive that doesn't involve a naked Noira and a breast-feeding gnome.

"That sounds like a good idea." Izira set Noira's tea on a stand by the bed, "Do you need anything else? I should tend to my guests, and you should rest."

Noira was fully dressed, thank you! "I should be fine”, she shook her head at Izira, with a smile. "Just some time by the hearth. I think that will do me some good."

"Good. Feel better, Noira!" Gren called through the bathroom, then hurried down the steps. He tried not to look at the gnome family in case the baby gnome was still hungry. Putting the potatoes in a container for Izira, he slipped out the back and hurried to the stables. Mounting Ezekiel, he rode off to the portal and off towards Headquarters.

"Come get me if you need anything." Izira gave Noira a serious look, meaning that she should not let pride get in the way.

Noira smiled reassuringly after Izira as she sat on the edge of the bed... then turned her gaze contemplatively to the garden. As the door shut, the light within the room grew dim, and her eyes turned a shade paler as they regarded the moons hanging in the early evening sky.

[Gren Blockman]

The sun was just beginning to set as Gren rode through the portal on Ezekiel. Malcolm sat behind Gren with his head nestled against his back, snoring peacefully. "Geez, Malcolm", Gren said to himself. As Gren dismounted in the stables, he caught Malcolm before he fell off the horse's back and shook him. "Wake up, we're here!"

Malcolm snorted and started, looking around through bleary eyes. "Huh . . . whu . . . We're here already?"

"Come on, Noira's in trouble, remember?"

"Yeah. Sure. Cool. Fine. Alright. Let's do it." Gren and Malcolm walked up the porch and through the front door.

Izira sat by the hearth with a glass of wine. The gnomish kids, including the baby, had been put to bed and she sat there with the gnomish couple. The pair had their own drinks for the night, partaking in an ale from their homeland Izira had on hand. Their faces flush, Izira smiled at the couple who were paying more attention to each other than her.

Noira was seated by the hearth, as close as she could get, kneeling on a pillow with a blanket around her shoulders, both hands warming around a cup of Ella's tea. While she appeared more colorful than when she'd first arrived at the Inn that day, she was still paler than normal. Her gaze was tired and heavy-lidded, yet her head snapped to face Gren and Malcolm when the door opened, her pupils dilating... "Welcome back," she said to Gren with a smile, and dipped her head to Malcolm.

"The hero returns." Izira smiled warmly to Gren.

"You need not worry, lad, the babe's been put to bed." Ella offered jovially.

"I know someone else I'd like to put to bed." Her husband failed to whisper and the two broke out in giggles.

"Yeah, well . . . um . . . " Gren turned vaguely red at the comments from the two gnomes. He cleared his throat and kind of pushed Malcolm in front of him. "I brought Malcolm.", he said, trying to put the attention onto someone else.

Malcolm stepped forward, blinking rapidly. "Yeah . . . uh . . . I'm here. Or whatever." The lanky half-elf shuffled over to Noira and peered down at her.

The elfess flickered a smile at Malcolm and quietly told him, "Your helmet worked," as she fished the necklace out of her shirt. The pendant fell heavily when she let go, as if weighted to return to her chest, and the black skull's ruby red eyes glared maliciously at the Ranger.

The gnomes paid no attention to Gren, leaning in and nuzzling noses affectionately. The rest of the people might not even be there. One might wonder if the drinks had gone to their heads enough that they hadn't even noticed the additional person. The husband stood up, offering his hand to his wife. "I've a mind to turn in."

"I've a mind to follow." Ella giggled like a young girl. She only broke out of it enough to offer to Izira, "If you run out of fixings for the tea just come knockin’ and let me know." She smiled sympathetically to Noira, but her smile returned as she moved toward her husband. He goosed her and off they went, her giggling as he chased after.

Izira took a drink, "I was beginning to wonder if they'd excuse themselves." She turned her attention to Malcolm and Noira, then held her hand out to Gren to hold his.

Gren was staring at the ceiling looking incredibly comfortable while listening to the two gnomes.

Malcolm leaned forward and peered at the glaring skull, then suddenly he jerked his head back. "Whoa. Dude. Bad. Danger. I'm going to need a long nap before I try anything . . . "

"Oh no you don't!" Gren snapped out of it and grabbed Malcolm before he could plant himself in one of Izira's easy chairs. "You slept all the way over here! Help Noira, please?"

Malcolm half-heartedly squirmed and gave up. "Harsh. Oh, alright. Man. I'm gonna need, like, a bag? A bag made out of dark cloth? And like some garlic? Uh . . . some lemonade?"

"We found it on a necromancer in New Mandrietta," Noira explained, and rose to shift to a seat by the hearth so that Malcolm could examine her and the cursed artifact more easily. "Had circumstances been different, I may have taken more care... alas, Rhett and his followers were at our throats." There was a subtle hoarseness to her voice, though it was a little higher pitched, too. She looked over her shoulder at Izira, then asked Malcolm directly, "Have you seen this before? Either the necklace, or my present state?"

After an empathetic look to Noira, Izira's head tilted at the later of the items the half-elf asked for. "Do you want the lemonade in a glass? Ice?" She set her wine down, rising up. A kiss was given to Gren's cheek. She moved to the kitchen to fetch the garlic and the requested bag.

"Oh yeah. It's like necromancer type stuff, one o one. Dudes curse their magic items so people can't use them. Bogus. Anyway, it's to prevent someone from using it to track them down. It'll turn you undead in, like, days. If it’s not too strong, I could, like, use Abjuration type magic on it. Just lift the curse. Maybe I can give it a shot. I'm gonna need that garlic and lemonade, though. A glass would be great." He finished, looking at Izira.

"Why do you need lemonade for a cursed amulet?" Gren asked.

"Dude, just trust me." Malcolm retorted.

Noira's hand tensed protectively around the amulet and she jerked her head away from Malcolm with a wince, silent for a moment before she nodded. "...Alright. I am sorry -- yes, that sounds like it is... worth a shot, at the very least”, she loosened her grasp on the necklace again.

Izira returned from the kitchen, the ties of a black fabric bag hung from her wrist. In one hand she held a small dish of garlic and in the other a glass of lemonade, without ice. She moved to stand closer to Malcolm to present the items as he needed.

Malcolm slowly looked over the items Izira brought out for him. He then took the glass of lemonade, and drank its contents down, handing the glass back with a little ahhh.

Gren stared incredulously at Malcolm. "That's what you wanted the lemonade for?"

"Dude, I was parched, this is gonna be hard work."

Gren sighed and hung his head.

Malcolm then took the garlic and stuffed it into the black bag. Kneeling beside Noira, he began to mutter something unintelligible while holding his hand out towards the necklace.

She took the empty glass, not surprised. Really, she was more surprised that the half-elf remained awake. The empty glass was set to the side on a table. She lingered, standing anxiously for a moment, before moving to reclaim her chair. She picked up her wine, but did not drink, instead watching Malcolm and Noira.

Noira's lips twisted, and she would have given Malcolm a flat stare if he hadn't started chanting. Her eyelids fluttered, and she set her hands on the edge of her seat to steady herself. Her fingers tensed, tugging nervously at the fabric, then tearing through and digging deep, her teeth clenched tightly together and bared as he interacted with the artifact. The fire in the hearth flickered until it had nearly died, and a deep chill settled into the air around them.

Malcolm winced, then grit his teeth. Red sparks started shooting from the amulet and finally a zap could be heard, causing Malcolm to yelp and grasp his hand which had been burned by the amulet's magic. "Ow. Ow, I mean it, ow. Not cool. Not cool." Shaking his hand out, he continued. "I don't think this is gonna work. This is a pretty tough one. Not your average type. It's gonna take more than garlic and a bag." Malcolm scratched his blonde crew cut, putting a thinking face on.

As Malcolm thought, the fire flared back to life. Somehow unseen and unheard, Jeremiah appeared, approaching the group from behind Izira's chair. A warmth radiated from him to combat the chill of the air.

Noira curled into herself at the warmth radiating from Jeremiah, recoiling at first, until finally the chill faded and the fire roared back to life. She looked over her shoulder at him, her gaze weary, though she found a grateful smile for him... "What will it take, then?" she asked Malcolm, doing her best to banish any trace of desperation from her voice.

"That stone. The one making the skull's eyes glow red. I've seen that type before. It's the heart of a wight. You can't break it with a simple Abjuration spell. Gonna be trickier. You're going to need a magical weapon. Something to stab it with."

Jeremiah offered Noira a subtle nod. Staying behind Izira's chair, he rested a hand over the back of it. "What type of magic?" His bright green eyes carried a sterner look than usual.

Izira looked back, at Jeremiah, then to Malcolm. "I have an assortment of... trinkets.. but I am short on magical weapons."

"Well, it's necromantic, and cursed, so it'd have to be a Holy weapon”, Gren said.

"And I am no paladin," Noira said with a shake of her head. She suppressed a shiver and drew back into her seat, dragging the blanket she'd been using earlier up off the floor and into her lap. "And sadly, I can think of no people of the cloth I can count among my friends..."

"Then we'll find someone. There's got to be somebody that knows someone. We could ask Arillon at the Academy. Or maybe Larette. They could give us some leads, at least." Gren offered.

"A pity... I once knew a Paladin. But he has long since left these parts to my knowledge." Izira looked to Gren at his suggestion, "It is what we have." She then looked to Noira, curled up with the blanket. "Are you... do you wish the make the journey?"

Jeremiah's jaw flexed, but his thoughts were his own.

"No," Noira said to Izira, lifting her head to look at her, "I do not, but I will do it just the same. We shall have to go to Arillon or Larette all the same, to see how they may track the cult through this pendant, before I start snapping my teeth at everyone's fingers," she added with a chuckle. She turned to look over her shoulder at Jeremiah and his hardened expression, and her smile flickered... then she nodded at the others. "Not tonight... but the sooner, the better."

"We'll go first thing in the morning then. Arillon would be closer, Izira and I have made the trip there just walking. He should have plenty of contacts being the head of an Academy", Gren said.

"The trip will take less time riding." Izira agreed and looked to Noira, thinking she would be in no state to walk, even if it was easy.

"We should ride," Noira agreed readily with Izira, and smiled between her and Gren as she scooted in the chair until she was leaned up against the back, drawing the blanket up around her shoulders. "I will go upstairs to rest soon," she assured them.

"I can offer my services to carry you up." Jeremiah offered to Noira, "I have managed heavier." He glanced at Gren, a bit of the spark back in his bright green eyes.

There,that put a little color back in her cheeks, though Noira said, "I believe it," with a little curl of a smile. She reached out a hand to him, and studiously avoided eye contact with Gren.

"Eh, uh . . . " Gren noticed Jeremiah's look and turned a bit red again. Trying to change the subject, he turned to Malcolm. "In the meantime, is there anything we can do to make Noira more comfortable?"

Malcolm had half-dozed, his eyelids three quarters of the way closed.

"Geez, Malcolm."

"He has had a hard day -- at least, the small part he was conscious for”, Noira observed.

"I'd let him sleep upstairs, but I'd never get him out of here if I did. I think I should take him home. Come on, Malcolm”, Gren commanded.

"I'm up, i'm up, i'm up", Malcolm protested, weakly getting back to his feet.

Jeremiah took her hand, giving it a gentle brush of his thumb. Similar to Izira, his skin is warm and heated.

"Will you be back tonight?" Izira stood up as Gren collected the half-elf.

"Yes, I'll come right back", Gren said, giving Jeremiah and Noira holding hands a nervous, bewildered look. "Eh, um, yeah." Gren walked over to Izira to give her a goodbye kiss, and after he did, he whispered while subtly pointing at Noira & Jeremiah. "Keep an eye on them, huh?"

Izira returned the kiss, looking at the pair holding hands. A suspicion she hadn't voiced was somewhat confirmed, but she smiled softly. Looking back to Gren she equally whispered, "I fear if I do that I risk seeing more than I want." She smiled warmly and kissed his concerns away.

Noira tensed her hand around Jeremiah's and forced herself out of her seat, fighting through a wave of sluggishness. She shook her head in an effort to clear it, then peeked up at him. "What was that about carrying me?"

She hardly had to say anything before Jeremiah scooped her up, carrying her like a new bride. "Much easier. I had to carry that one like a sack of potatoes." He smirked.

Gren rubbed his forehead after Izira spoke, and Jeremiah carried Noira. "We'd better go. I'll be back soon." A smile to Izira, then he had to practically carry Malcolm out the door like Jeremiah was doing for Noira. "Come on, Malcolm, help me out here."

"Dude, Abjuration spells are sooooo tiring, bro."

"Whatever, Malcolm." Practically dragging the half-elf, Gren left the Inn to go find Ezekiel and return to Rangers Headquarters.

Noira laughed quietly at Jeremiah's words, but her eyes felt as heavy as the necklace. Her head was pressed to his shoulder, eyes already shut by the time he reached the stairs.

A small shake of her head with amusement at Gren, Izira hoped Malcolm wouldn't doze off and fall of the horse.

As Jeremiah carried Noira upstairs he casually mentioning to the resting woman about speaking with Ella in the garden.

The main room empty, Izira picked up her wine glass once more and settled in by the fire to wait for Gren's return.

[Gren Blockman]

July 19, 2018



Gren rode on Ezekiel, heading south from the Inn's portal through the pine forest on their way to the Academy. " . . . Listen, I don't have anything against a mother fulfilling her . . . motherly duties, I'm just trying to be discreet. Respectful. It's a private moment between . . . it's about privacy." He cleared his throat and tried to change the subject. "We're almost there . . . eh, uh . . . There's a warbler in that tree over there . . . " He pointed vaguely into the forest.

Noira was quiet for a time, as she had been for most of the ride over, riding behind Izira and holding onto her for support... but breathed a sigh that indicated she had been listening. “I would encourage any gentleman who concerns himself with the privacy of feeding babes to resolve the issue by nursing them himself.”

Izira chuckled lightly. "That would certainly be an image." She guided their horse along with Gren's though it took little effort on her part as it was well trained. Tilting her head back, she spoke quietly, but not that quietly, to Noira, "I suspect he will throw a blanket over me to spare my modesty, should we reach such a point." She looked back to Gren and towards where he pointed, looking back to him with a lift of her brow.

“Should you reach such a point, I shall keep my eyes out for any nice blankets in my travels,” Noira laughed softly, but nodded her agreement at Izira’s assessment.

Gren started slowly turning red, then he tried his best to bring up another topic of conversation again. "You know, almost five years ago I asked Izira to be my girlfriend in these very woods. My how time flies."

The elfess laughed again. She’d let the topic go. “That must have been very romantic.”

"Almost? When was this?" Izira asked, curious. She searched her own memories but could not pinpoint a time in her memory. "Why didn't you?"

Gren blinked. "Why didn't I what? I'm saying it was almost five years when I did ask you. Remember we were going to meet Arillon so you could see the place where he found me? When we met Arillon, it was the first time I called you my girlfriend." Gren looked off into the distance with a wistful expression.

Noira sighed dreamily.

"Oooh... the visit with Arillon." Izira smiled a special sort of smile at Gren, recalling her own memory.

“Were there fireflies?” Noira asked randomly.

"Uh, no, there weren't any fireflies, it was earlier in the day. We were going to have a picnic and then we . . . " Gren stopped and tugged at his collar. " . . . anyway, we're almost there, I'm sure Arillon will be happy to see us. Oh look, cedars." The pine forest began to give way to towering cedar trees as they found a well maintained road made from white paving stones.

Izira smiled affectionately to Gren as his worded trailed off. Their steads reached the road. "The trees are lovely here."

This topic, the battlemage did not drop yet. “If a dashing lady or gentleman should ever offer me their love... there should be fireflies,” Noira decided, her gaze wandering over the trees around them speculatively.

"I will be sure to pass that along", Izira teased.

“Too cruel!” Noira laughed, pinching Izira’s arm lightly in retaliation.

"That does sound romantic." Gren nodded enthusiastically, surprised at Noira's romantic streak.

Moving her arm away with a laugh, Izira looked to Gren, her smile still bright and wide. "We can still have a moment with fireflies. It is never too late."

“You have many moments ahead of you both", the elfess observed. Noira grew quiet and thoughtful at that. The air seemed a little cool for summer.

"Um . . . yeah . . ." Gren said, rapidly moving his eyes between Izira and Noira, and not liking where that particular strand of conversation was headed. Soon the white stoned road pushed through the trees and they came upon a flat, grassy meadow. Dogwood trees lined both roadsides. Up ahead on the right, there was a long, brick wall painted white, the outer wall of the Academy. There was a black, iron gate that was currently shut. "It's the summer, so I would imagine the children are gone until September. We'll have to knock on the gate so Arillon will let us in."

At least Noira had the warmth of the half-breed elemental to her front, Izira noted, but didn't say anything on the cold in the air. "Will it be a secret knock?" She tilted her head curiously.

Noira hummed at this, and decided there was no better way to knock at a sorcerer’s door than in a sorcerer’s way. She blinked slowly, held up two fingers, and flicked them at the air. BANG, BANG, BANG, went the gate. “Secret knock?” Oops.

"No . . . . what the . . . . what are you doing? You just knock regularly! He's a sorcerer, he'll hear you!" Gren looked at the reverberating gate in shock. In a flash of blue light, Arillon stood there, the fat, bald man was wearing his red robe with gold trim, and his milky white eyes regarded the new arrivals. "Who is making all that noise . . . Gren! And Izira! And Noira, of course. Well, come in, it's good to see you three." Arillon swung the black gate inwards to allow them entrance.

Noira simply smiled at Gren’s flustered chiding as they entered. “It is good to see you as well, Arillon,” she replied. “Have you been enjoying the rest of your summer?”

"Oh, yes, it's been very relaxing. Peaceful. I get most of my research done during this time. Things can get so . . . rushed when classes are in session. Oh, and welcome to White Cedar Academy." He led them down a path of white bricks that passed through more flowering dogwoods. There was a large stone building at the end of the path, and flying from the roof were blue banners that had a white cedar tree in the center.

The elfess’ gaze traced her surroundings curiously. Pale and tired as she was, there was much to observe and enjoy about this place. “As a girl... I had always dreamed of coming to a place like this,” Noira murmured quietly, watching the blue banners flap in the breeze... Her own blue banner had been much different.

Izira's mind did not wander to thoughts of her own childhood. Instead, she looked to Gren, recalling fonder memories.

Arillon led them up the steps of the large building. Entering within, there was a long hallway with a black and white checkerboard floor, and many doors that opened to classrooms. The halls were silent at first, until a large boom could be heard. "Good gracious, that must be Shann! I hope he is not injured." Hurrying down the hallway, they entered a door that opened to a workshop filled with tables that each held a complex maze of tubes and bottles. Shann was standing there, wearing a similar robe to Arillon's, his dark hair pulled back in a ponytail. His face and hands were a bright green, and he stood over a shattered glass container with a dumbfounded expression. "Shann, are you alright?" Arillon asked.

Shann stuck his pinky in his ear as if to unclog it and shook his head to stop the ringing sound. "Eh . . . YES. YES I'M FINE. I JUST CAN'T HEAR VERY WELL AT THIS PARTICULAR MOMENT."

Izira winced slightly at Shann's raised voice, but refrained from covering her ears as she looked around at the experiment going on.

Noira stood in the doorway, seeming not the least bit alarmed by this arcane mishap. If anything, it was comfortingly familiar. “What were you making?” the elfess asked in a small shout, though she directed her gaze between Shann and Arillon, in case the blasted mage could not hear her.

"I WASN'T BAKING ANYTHING. I WAS MIXING A POTION", Shann replied to Noira.

"She said MAKING", Arillon said, trying to help.

"FAKING? NO, I DON'T FAKE ANYTHING!"

Arillon's hands fluttered nervously. "We'll get this cleaned up. Tell me, what is your reason for visiting the Academy today?" Arillon asked the three.

Noira took a few steps away from Gren and Izira and into the lab. She lowered her hood, revealing the paleness of her features and the darkening around her eyes, and fished the necromancer’s amulet out of her tunic. Despite the steadiness of the light in the lab, it seemed to leap like a fire when reflected in the sinister skull’s ruby eyes.

"Oh, my heavens. That is a nasty looking amulet you have there." Arillon stepped forward and peered at it as close as he dared.

"HAMLET? ARE WE SEEING A PLAY?" Shann said, confused.

Arillon tried to tap it with a finger, leading to him getting zapped much like Malcolm did. "Ooof. That's a strong enchantment, strong indeed. Where did you get an amulet like this?"

“A necromancer in New Mandrietta. From the cult we defeated last month,” Noira answered. “I... have not removed it since I first picked it up. I do not even recall when I decided to put it on.” She let the pendant fall to her chest again. “Malcolm, the Ranger, examined it already. He said it would need a magical weapon to shatter it, perhaps a holy one...”

As Noira spoke with Shann and Arillon, Izira moved to Gren's side, hoping the older men could help their friend.

"Hmm. Necromancers. Curious, indeed." Arillon seemed to be more focused and insistent than Malcolm was, he actually got the amulet wrapped around his fingers. It buzzed angrily while he tried to scry it with the power of Pyschomancy. "Oooh, ow, hot." Arillon could not hold it for long before the pain was too much, and he withdrew his hand which looked rather burnt. "The heart of a wight. Very powerful. It will indeed take an equally powerful holy weapon to break its hold."

Gren put his arm around Izira's waist and smiled, nodding at Arillon's words. He had confidence that the Head of the Academy would know how to help Noira.

Noira stared with worry at the man’s fingers, but the hope his words offered was impossible to ignore. “But such a weapon can break it? And such a weapon exists?” she asked, taking a half-step closer.

Arillon stood back and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Indeed there is. Not here, unfortunately. I would love to have one, but a weapon of that power is rarely put on the antiquities market. I would imagine a Paladin would hold something that valuable. I will also tell you this. Even though that wight's heart burns like fire, it is cold as ice at its heart. You will need a weapon that can be heated to a high temperature before you can pierce that stone and break its enchantment. I seem to recall a Paladin that may have had such a weapon . . . Shann what was the name of that Paladin?"

"PALOMINO? NO, I DON'T OWN A HORSE!"

“Please,” the elfess said, moving to look pleadingly between Shann and Arillon. “If there is a Paladin who can help me to break this curse, I will seek them out, no matter how far.”

"And she will have us with her", Izira said.

Arillon got in Shann's face and over-accentuated the word. "PAL-A-DIN!"

Shann blinked, then brightened. "OH! YOU MEAN JIM! YES, PALADIN JIM!"

"That's it, Paladin Jim. He will be glad to help you. I'm sure." Arillon added those last two words hastily, as if there shouldn't be any doubt.

"Paladin Jim?" Gren said dubiously.

"Oh yes. He's very exuberant and passionate about his profession. He wields a blade that should be the answer to your problem", Arillon replied.

Noira had no reason to divide the Jims from the Aragorns or Eowyns of this realm. “This Paladin Jim. Where can we find him?”

Paladin Jim was certainly curious, but since she once knew a Paladin by the name of Paladin... well, Izira had no room to question.

"Well . . . this is July, isn't it? He has a sort of . . . circular route he sticks to. So that he can better . . . serve the populace as a Paladin. Follow the white road you came down due west. There is a village called Bailennin with a large stone tower on the far side. He takes up residence there for most of the summer. As most Paladins he is rather . . . large. Lots of armor."

"WARM BOAR? I THOUGHT THEY WERE LOOKING FOR A PALADIN?" Shann yelled.

“A large Paladin named Jim in a tower to the west, in Bailennin. Thank you, Arillon,” Noira said, bowing her head and giving him a grateful smile. “Rank hue, wand,” she said to Shann with the same expression, though there was a playful glimmer in her tired eyes.

"OH, NO THANKS NECESSARY!" Shann smiled and waved at Noira.

"How far a ride is that?" Izira looked from the older men to Gren.

Gren thought. "That's about . . . twenty miles? A bit of a distance, but nothing we can't handle."

Izira nodded, looking back to Arillon and Shann curiously. She glanced to her hand, but returned to looking to Gren. "We should likely be on our way there, no time for a picnic."

"Uh, no, no picnic." Gren was already turning red. "Thanks for you help, Arillon, we'll go meet Paladin Jim."

"Oh, you're most welcome. Do come back again. It was lovely to see you again, Izira. And you, Noira", Arillon said.

Noira’s gaze had wandered over the two older men, moving restlessly while Gren and Izira talked... though the sound of her name snapped her back to reality. “Thank you both,” she said to them, dipping her head, and carefully replaced the amulet within her tunic as she turned to follow Gren and Izira out.

Walking back into the hallway with Izira and Noira, Gren smiled. "Well, some good news. Hopefully this Paladin Jim guy will help us out then."

Izira had offered a quiet farewell to Arillon and a wave to Shann, not even attempting words since he couldn't hear her properly. Once out in the hall, Izira put an arm around Noira with a light squeeze.

The elfess was startled at the contact, but settled after a moment. “I am encouraged that it could be so simple — that the answer is less than a day’s ride away,” Noira said, now relying on Izira’s support as they exited. “Have either of you ever heard of this man?”

"Only legends . . . " Gren said jokingly. "No, honestly, never heard of him. But he's a Paladin, so how bad could it be?"

[Gren Blockman]

Soon after the village of Bailennin came into view, as the sun hung low over the forest and the stone tower that loomed over the humble settlement, Noira gave voice to what Izira had likely already felt. “I am very cold.” She had been quiet again, keeping her head bowed and her eyes shut as they traveled, but increasingly foggy breaths rose from her hooded cloak as if the warm summer sun was a waning afternoon in the dead of winter — with the promise of a deeper chill to come. Their horse was restless, whickering and shaking its head as the unnatural cold settled into its bones, and the petite elfess riding on its back tensed her body in a way that told it, predator.

"Gren..?" Izira's voice spoke his name, with a concern and worry that carried in her tone, as though asking when they would get to shelter. The chill from Noira's body had increased with the night's slow approach and Izira had more trouble with guiding her horse. It jerked nervously beneath her.

Gren looked worriedly at Noira as they approached the tiny village. "I was hoping we could get here before she got any worse. Maybe we could find an Inn and get her warmed up before we meet Jim. If she's really bad, I could ask Jim to come meet us there. It's up to you, Noira, should we stop first?"

Noira grit her teeth as she turned her head away from Izira’s back, eyes slitting open to watch the thinning woodland go by. “It does not matter,” she finally answered with an uncharacteristic hiss.

Gren blinked at Noira and her tone, then nodded to Izira. "We should stop. First Inn we see." As they rode up to the village and approached the main street, Gren craned his neck to see if a hostel could be found. Not far from the village's border, there was a little cottage with a sign out front that showed a lamb laying down in grass and "Inn of the Lowly Lamb" written beneath. "Let's stop there." Gren pointed.

Izira nodded to Gren, her back stiff and a different sort of heat taking over her skin. She continued to fight with the horse, but managed to get it to follow. "Noira?" She turned her head slightly, looking behind her.

Noira’s expression was much the same, though she responded to Izira with a terse nod. As they approached the front of the Inn, a barn cat hissed at them and slunk swiftly from the corner of the cottage away from them.

"What the . . . " Gren watched the cat run away. Ezekiel was nervous and shaking as well. "What is going on . . . . I'll take the horses to the stable. Izira, please help Noira inside." Dismounting from Ezekiel, he took the rein of Izira's mount, trying to calm it enough for her to help Noira.

With Gren holding her horse's reins, Izira was able to dismount. Turning to help Noira down, "We'll get inside and find a way to fix you up Ella's bath."

Gren nodded, and holding the reins of both horses, he led them around to the stables in the back.

Noira dismounted with Izira's help, and forced herself to follow after her friend, her hood up and her head lowered, trying to make herself seem smaller behind Izira. Her gaze was restless again, ticking between Gren and the horses, Izira, the windows, and the far end of the cottage. "That... would be nice, I think," she said, belatedly and distractedly.

Izira spared a look toward Gren leaving with the horses, then moved to the door of the Inn, opening it for Noira to enter before her. Izira eyed the interior, given that it was an Inn... like hers but not hers.

The inn's walls were made of logs, and the interior was made up of a large, community room with benches and tables, a few empty mugs scattered here and there. There was a fireplace on the far right side with seats for patrons to warm up by. On the far wall was a counter, and a stairway behind and to the left that must have led up to rooms to spend the night. Nothing about the place seemed fancy, but it seemed warm and safe enough. After a few moments, and old man with a scruffy grey beard and haircut wearing faded overalls came hobbling from a back room and up to the counter. "Welcome, young ladies. It's gonna be a cold one tonight. Are you looking for a meal or a room or both?"

"A room, with a bath. To begin with." Izira would not rule out food on Gren's account, but her interest was foremost to tend to Noira. She gave the man a kind smile, though her concern tightened it a bit.

Noira's eyes fixated on the man in faded overalls. The fire flickered in the hearth as he spoke of the cold, though the elfess did not move from Izira's shadow. "Tea," she said quietly. "Hot tea," as she had heard tell of people who preferred it cold in RhyDin, absurd as the notion was.

"Why certainly. My name is Vladislav, welcome to the Inn of the Lowly Lamb." The old man fished around under the counter and pulled out a key attached to a small wooden keychain. "You can have Room 2. I'll have my daughter bring you up some hot water for your bath. And also for some tea." He turned his attention to the back room he had just exited. "Verushka, bring some hot water for our guests."

The elfess' eyes darted to the back room when the man called to his daughter, her eyes narrowing on a specific spot on the wall, as if sensing the movement beyond. She shook her head slowly until she felt herself settling again. "Bed after the bath, I think," she murmured to Izira as they moved to collect the key and go upstairs.

Izira nodded, taking the key from the man. "Thank you. My fiancé will be in shortly. He is stabling our two horses. He may be in want of a meal." She offered a smile with her words, dipping her head and heading up the stairs. "Just be sure you do not fall asleep in the bath." The joke was said, but her features failed to show the full level of amusement.

Noira fell silent as she followed Izira up the stairs. This was not unusual in and of itself... though by the time they reached the hall, their footsteps matched, to within a fraction of a second, though she drew no closer nor further away from her friend. The windows of the inn fogged over, one at a time, starting with the first floor and crackling with growing frost at the corners. Mist clung to the path and swirled around the steps of all who approached the Inn of the Lowly Lamb, warding off wary travelers and would-be patrons.

Suddenly, the door to the Inn slammed open, and in strode a man nearly 7 feet tall, dressed in shiny steel armor. His helmet covered his face and had horns sticking out from either side. "WHAT HO! What evil lurks within the humble walls of this goodly Inn? Methinks a foul air doth permeate this establishment! Though I be pitched in desperate battle, I did heed the smell of dire villainy and FORTHWITH I SALLIED to combat this blight upon civilization! Wrongs will be righted! Justice will be dealt with a rough hand! So says . . . PALADIN JIM!"

[Gren Blockman]

Izira had gotten as far as the door to their room, the key lifted and stilled in the air between herself and the lock. Darkness took over the air of the small hallway, making her hand closer to a shadow in her own vision. Like a deer in the still forest, Izira turned her head cautiously. Her voice soft, as though fearful her voice would wake something, ".. Noira?"

Noira's eyes narrowed on Izira in reply to her uncertain call, a colder, paler gaze than the elfess usually held. A steady stream of cold fog rose from her lips. "I am... are you... trespasser?" she ventured, her voice a low whisper, confused and uncertain. Then the front door slammed open and someone stomped across the floor, furniture thumping and scooting out of his way, armor rattling, voice booming about 'evil' and 'foul air' and 'dire villainy.' Noira snapped a look back at the stairs behind them... and let out a wary rumble of a growl as she stalked down the hallway, snatching at the key in Izira's fingers. When the innkeeper released it to move out of the way, Noira quickly unlocked the door and stepped in. It slammed shut behind her, seemingly of its own accord, held in place by a cold wind that carried unearthly whispers on its breath.

In the dim light of the hallway, Izira barely made out Noira's form. Confused by the elfess' words and the sounds from the lower level, she was not prepared for Noira's quick movement. The sudden chill against her fingers when Noira grabbed for the key made Izira release her grip and step back. Too late she realized what she did. "Noira!" Her voice carried louder and she tried the door. Unable to open it, she hit her palm against it. "Noira!"

"HARK! Upon the staircase! I do hear a suspicious clatter! Justice doth wait for no man!" Stomping across the wooden floorboards, Paladin Jim made his way to the staircase, while Vladislav looked at him open mouthed.

"But Jim! It's only two women who have come to rent a room!" Vladislav exclaimed.

"NAY Good Sir Innkeeper! It is a Wolf in Sheep's clothing! I will quench its dark flame, a flame which cannot match the fire of integrity within my own breast!" Jim replied.

A pretty blonde woman came out of the back room, and pressed her hands to her heart when she saw Jim. "Oh, Paladin Jim! Be careful!"

"Fair Verushka! Turn thine innocent eyes from the mayhem that is about to befall the treacherous scum who has sought to invade this virtuous hamlet! ONWARD!" Jim's metal armor clanked as he rushed up the steps, and he saw Izira standing there. "Good woman! Away from there! Your eyes may not be prepared for the righteous violence I will unleash upon this monstrous cur!" He waved a gauntleted arm at her to descend the steps.

The man's words startled Izira out of her stupor at his appearance. She did not move away, "No! She is my friend! She's not herself. It's.. it's the... amulet." She gestured to her own collarbone where Gren's locket rested.

"Leave us." A voice lower and harsher than Noira's hissed through the door, barred by the amulet's dark magic. The shutters on the windows flapped open and clattered shut, and furniture slid loudly across the floor as something thumped against the wall.

"SO! That is what knavery is afoot! A virtuous maid assaulted by a cursed object of pure blackness! Such an affront to decency will not be tolerated by . . . PALADIN JIM!" Reaching behind him, he pulled a massive sword that looked like a huge lump of iron out. "Your rampage of terror ends here! STRIKE HARD AND TRUE!" Lifting the huge sword over his head, he brought it downward and into the door. With a tremendous crash, he split the wooden door in two, causing it and whatever furniture was behind it to burst into the room. Whatever holy magic his sword had was powerful enough to shred through the dark amulet's enchantment.

"Pala.... Jim?" Then Izira stepped back, hand against her breast as she witness him cleave the door with ease.

There was a burst of the same mist that snaked across the path outside, scattering in the wake of the paladin's holy weapon as a nightstand and an end table both collapsed from the strike. Noira's face was twisted into a snarl, and her eyes were wide and terrified as she held the amulet out as far as the chain would allow -- but whenever she strained the chain, her form became blurry, as if stretched between herself and this cursed artifact. "Whoever you are... get away from me...!" Noira managed. Her hand clapped the amulet back to her chest, and her eyes alighted on Paladin Jim. She outstretched a pale finger towards him, the air around the gesture freezing rapidly, as she slipped a knife from her belt and advanced.

"I do not wish to fight you, poor woman, but your malevolence must be extinguished!" Putting his left shoulder down, Jim charged Noira like a bull, keeping his sword in his right to deflect any magical attacks she might throw at him. Intending to tackle her in a rush, he cried, "YOUR NEFARIOUSNESS ENDS NOW!"

Noira was strong. She was not seven-foot-paladin-bullrush strong. Her right hand tried to close around the hilt of his sword, but shrank back with a flash of holy light and a rise of steam when the amulet's necrotic magic attempted to touch him; the dagger in her left hand ended up harmlessly stuck in one of the joints in his armor when he impacted her, and she went skidding across the floor. She thrashed against him, grabbing onto his armor with both hands as he loomed over her, and that same deep chill started seeping into him. "Die with the rest of your kind, mortal knight," she hissed. "Then rise, and serve the Kingdom of the Dead, for there is no stopping it now...!"

"Don't kill her!" Izira called after the massive knight, following in the wake of his assault on Noira. Despite his words of saying the 'virtuous maid' Izira was not sure she trusted him that far. Much like a bull in a China shop. "Jim! Is your weapon holy?" She might have a feel for magic, but the gauge of holiness was beyond her.

Struggling with the flailing Noira, in close quarters combat, Jim was unable to maneuver his huge sword. Momentarily freeing his mailed fist, he brought it down in a hammerfist on the amulet around Noira's neck. Jim growled in pain as the necromantic energy flowed into his hand and arm. "BY THE ANGELS ABOVE! What heinous magic is this?" Hearing Izira finally, he tried to nod. "Yes indeed, my blade is blessed, blessed to deliver heavenly vengeance to those who embrace wickedness!" Having not noticed the cold seeping into his body before, he now squirmed uncomfortably at Noira's grip.

His fist seemed to rebound harmlessly away from the amulet, and when he squirmed, Noira used it against him to roll him onto his back. She appeared all the more like a dreaded wight now, and certainly had the strength to match one. Her eyes were as pale as her bitingly cold skin, her fingers long and grasping as she pulled at the paladin's armor, trying to find a way to close her hands around his throat. "You should have left when you had the chance, holy warrior!" Her voice now sounded not at all like her own, though the spectral shriek did pass from her own lips.

"Your threats do not intimidate me, you vicious reprobate!" Jim is a bit taken aback at being flipped, and he grapples with Noira, trying to keep her from choking him. Glancing behind her to Izira. "My lady, tell me what the cure is for this malady! Before the black arts take us both!"

Izira gestured toward the sword while trying to move closer, "You have to pierce the amulet with your holy wea..."

The amulet dangled tauntingly over the paladin's head as Noira pushed her knee into his chest, elbowing his arms away as he grabbed at her. The chill deepened. The room itself dipped below freezing, to say nothing of wherever her hands managed to find purchase.

With a growl of determination, Jim grabbed at his sword lying beside him when Noira pushed his hand away. Taking the chance that Izira knew what she was doing, he wrapped his hand around the hilt, and lifted it upwards, preparing to use the last of his strength to insert the blade between the two and deliver a final blow to the amulet.

Izira's eyes widened as she saw him drawing his weapon before she could finish. "And fire!" There was a curse in her father's tongue, as she tried to get closer but found the chill keeping her just out of bay. Izira could see in the Paladin's movements that his energy was waning. They would lose their moment. They would lose Noira to the creature that possessed her. Rage at the being grit her teeth tight together and Izira's eyes filled with a glow of fiery red that had not filled them in ages. But the fire did not erupt from around her as it used to, she was not the girl that had been controlled by the flames. She controlled them. Heat cut against the cold of the Paladin's armor, the guard and blade of his sword taking on a red glow equal to the half-breed's eyes.

The wight that possessed Noira, the creature that she was becoming, did not recognize the sword's magic for what it was, or the threat that it posed. She finally found Jim's throat and began to apply pressure as she chilled his flesh. "Do you have any final words, mortal knight?" She hissed through her teeth.

Jim felt the blade heat and burn his hand as he lifted it in readiness. "Yes . . . O pernicious creature . . . JUSTICE SHALL BE SERVED!" Stabbing upwards with the tip of the blade, he caught the dangling amulet at just the right angle, causing it to shatter into tiny fragments.

With a sound like a silver chime, the amulet turned to black dust, the red eyes flashing in anger before they turned to embers, then ash. Noira slid off of the paladin and onto the floor where she lay still. Her skin remained shockingly pale, though the sinister air about her seemed to fade. The coldness of her skin did not chill the air any longer.

Izira's eyes dimmed and she wavered on her feet for only a moment. "Noira!" Called when the other fell, she rushed to her side. Half pulling her freezing and pale form into her lap, warmth radiated from the halfbreed as she held her friend.

For a long moment, Noira was still, though Izira could feel the warmth spread through her body... followed by a sudden cough, and several more as her breathing steadied. Her brow was knit in a pained frown, eyes clenched shut against it, but without looking she pulled herself up to kneel beside her friend, wrapping her arms around her shoulders in a hug.



While the battle had been going on, Gren had taken Ezekiel and Walnut into the stables. He found a warm dry place for the two horses with plenty of hay. Brushing each of them down quickly, he noticed a bin of Red Delicious Apples near the door. Brightening, he thought the snack would be something to lift Noira and Izira's spirits. He grabbed one and dusted it off on his shirt. Casually holding it away from him as he picked though the bin for another, Ezekiel reached out and snatched it from his hand with his teeth. Gren gaped at the horse. "Ezekiel! That was for Izira! Hmmf." He had held the other away from him while scolding Ezekiel, when Walnut craned his neck forward and grabbed that one as well. Gren jumped. "Walnut! For shame! Those were for the ladies! I swear." Gren managed to fumble around in the bin and grab a few nice looking fruit. Walking happily back to the front door of the Inn, he walked inside. He noticed an old man and young blonde woman staring up the back staircase. "Umm . . . ?" Gren began, wanting to ask where Izira and Noira were.

The old man held a shaky finger up the stairs.

Gren shrugged, not knowing what the problem was, and walked up to the open room door. "Hey look what I found, Appl . . . " Gren stopped and gawked at the destroyed room, with Jim lying on the floor, and Izira kneeling next to Noira.

“I am sorry, friend,” Noira said, giving Izira a squeeze before she let go.

"No apologies." Izira said, kissing Noira's forehead.

The elfess had only been slightly aware of her actions by the end, and hadn’t the faintest idea that there was an exhausted and chilly paladin on their floor. Poor Jim.

Jim had been laying still since Izira had helped Noira up. Suddenly he shot up into a sitting position. "GOD'S BLOOD! What a tussle! I am chilled and burned both! You are a spirited lass, small one, I must confess!"

Gren heard that and a look of horror shot across his face. "What does he mean by that?" He asked Izira accusingly.

Jim's words actually startled Izira, she had forgotten his presence. It was Gren's question that made her realize he had finally joined them. "Noira." She said in response. "We broke the amulet." She appeared very tired.

“Yes, he meant me,” Noira assured Gren, though it hadn’t occurred to her how he might take that. She withdrew slowly from Izira and crossed the room, nudging aside the broken necklace chain with her boot, and offered her hand down to the paladin, to introduce herself and to help him up. “You must be Jim.”

[Gren Blockman]

July 20, 2018



The next morning, Jim sat at one of the tables in the community room. Jim had dark, flowing hair that curled to his shoulders. His handsome face was a bit marred with various scars, including one across his nose, presumably from his various battles against evil. His horned helmet sat next to him.

"Here are your pancakes, oh noble Sir Jim!" Varushka looked a bit more spruced up than yesterday, wearing lipstick and rouge for Jim's appearance. An enormous platter of flapjacks, including butter and syrup, was placed in front of the Paladin.

"Oh Fair Varushka, your hospitality and charity doth warm my poor soul, not to mention the sight of your beauteous appearance."

"Oh, Jim, you are so gallant!" Varushka practically purred and fluttered back into the kitchen.

"I have an ogre's hunger this morning after my perilous conflict last eve!" Jim began to gorge himself on the plate of pancakes, waiting on the others to show.

Noira was the next to rise. She was used to waking at dawn, but the necklace's curse and her near-transformation had exhausted her, so it wasn't until Jim was halfway done with his pancakes that the battlemage walked down the stairs. She looked a bit frazzled, but did her best to keep her steps swift and steady and to maintain her poise as she joined his table. "Good morning," she wished him with a bow of her head, then sank into a chair. There was a moment where she shut her eyes, enjoying the breeze that blew through the common room windows for the first time in days. "I heard Gren and Izira stirring when I left my room -- they should be joining us soon."

"Verily, wouldst that I finish my feast beforehand, so as not to let yon cakes escape into other mouths." Jim redoubled his efforts, while Gren came downstairs, ruffling his hair with his fingers and yawning.

"Boy, what a night." Gren saw Jim polishing off the pancakes and gaped. "Hey, I hope those weren't meant for all of us!"

Just then Varushka reentered the community room with another platter of pancakes. She looked a bit crestfallen that the others were now present and sharing Jim's attention. "Here you are. I will bring hot water for tea and coffee momentarily."

"Milk for me, fair lady", Jim asked.

Batting her eyelashes at Jim, Varushka twirled back into the Kitchen.

Gren blinked at the show and shrugged at Noira. "Okay, then." Sitting down, he figured he better get his share of pancakes before they disappeared.

"Coffee sounds as sweet as the wine of paradise after last night," Noira sighed, examining her hands to verify that they were back to their normal, sun-kissed complexion -- and that she no longer had claws. "Speaking of... ," she added, and gave Jim an apologetic smile, "I apologize for..." Nearly squeezing the life out of you? Trying to freeze your flesh? Spouting nonsense about the Kingdom of the Dead? "...our altercation last night. And I thank you for listening to Izira, and showing restraint."

Jim raised a dismissive hand. "No apologies are necessary, my good woman. Justice is its own reward. I merely seek to eradicate evil 'ere I see it."

Varushka came out again with a pot of coffee, a pot of hot water, and a carafe of milk for Jim. Tea bags, sugar, and cream were also set out. "Do you need anything else?" She said, although her eyes were mostly focused on Jim.

"None for me, thank you, this meal is fit for a king", Jim replied.

Smiling sweetly, Varushka scurried off again.

It was less Gren's prodding that awoke her, as he left the room well before her, but her stomach that got Izira up. Her stomach growled as though it was possessed by very unhappy demons. Demons that were hungry and smelled pancakes. Her hair was down and she was in the process of putting it up in a bun as she came down the stairs, her eyes seeking out, not her friends, but what food was available.

Noira raised a hand, opening her mouth to speak, but once Jim had spoken, Varushka had already scurried off. Hmm... She was blinking like Gren had before, and shrugged back at him now as she set pancakes on plates for herself and the Ranger, and helped herself to a full mug of black coffee. "As strong as the dirt beneath our boots," she murmured, as if quoting from something. Then Izira was with them. She gave her the remainder of the platter, twice what either Gren or Noira had on their own plates.

Gren didn't argue with Noira's serving, and he happily began to devour what was put in front of him. "So . . . uh . . . Jim? How exactly did you become a Paladin?" Gren was putting a tea bag in some hot water.

Jim put his fork down and gestured dramatically to the ceiling with his hand. "Many years ago, I was but a humble farmer, and lo, one evening when I was eating a simple meal of cabbage and rutabagas, I did hear an angelic voice come from my barn. I did arise and enter, and did see this weapon of righteousness there. The "Majestic Blade of Holy Vengeance"! I knew then and there I had been called by a higher power to rid this world of corruption and maliciousness wherever it doth reside!"

Izira sat, forgetting her manners, and dug into the pile of pancakes before her with as much, if not more, vigor than the paladin had shown. She paused long enough to say, "I hope there's more."

Noira peeked at the weapon in question. "It is an impressive weapon -- both for harnessing Izira's fire, and for shattering that accursed amulet." Nudging her plate over to Izira. She could eat later, or have the bread and jerky from her bag before they set out again.

Apparently, Varushka was well aware of the Paladin's appetite (thought maybe not the others), because she returned with another heaping plate. "I even put blueberries in these for you, Sir Jim."

"My thanks to thee, fair lady."

Giggling, Varushka left again, while giving Jim the moon eyes.

"Speaking of the amulet", Gren said, "What became of it?"

"I did place the fractured shards within a container. They should be disposed of properly to ensure its evil intent is permanently extinguished", Jim said.

Izira took Noira's portion, and pulled the Paladin's plate away from him, "You wouldn't want to starve a maiden", she said with a sweet smile. She failed to really follow the conversation for the time.

"I should like to know if what remains of the necklace can lead us back to its owners," Noira mused. "Perhaps we could look at the pieces together. Jim -- do you know of the cult that has been active in this area? They attacked Perrigan's Ranger outpost, not far east of here, some weeks ago." She sipped her coffee. It hid her amused smile when Jim's plate slid away from him.

Jim's mouth hung open in momentary shock as his remaining pancakes were forcibly removed. But chivalry prevented him from objecting. "I do know some of this cult, as you call them. Like shadows, these vipers have preyed upon these forests for decades. The Rangers and Sorcerers have done their part to keep them at bay, but I know not who they are or where they reside. If the remains can be of use to you, then by all means, they are yours to do with as you wish."

"Do you have them with you?" Noira asked, setting the mug down on the edge of the table.

"I do indeed." Reaching to his belt, Jim removed a little bag of chain mail and spread its contents out on the table before him. Various bits of metal and gem formed a little heap.

Izira polished off her serving, Noira's, and most of Jim's blueberry stack before she started to slow. A happy sigh, she closed her eyes a moment, then opened them again. Taking slower bits, she turned to attention to the conversation.

Noira tucked a few stray strands of hair behind her long ears, shook out her hands, and attempted to sense the properties of the amulet. Given its shattered state, though, this was a difficult prospect. Her eyes darkened slowly, shimmering with starlight, though there seemed to be no other change about her. "If there is any power that remains in these pieces... it is subtle, and will take a scholar's careful examination to make any sense of it," she sighed, and with a few blinks, her eyes returned to their normal shade of green. "Perhaps a piece of the gem itself can go to Arillon, and the metal to Malcolm and the armorer who helped him to craft my helmet. But this material..." She hesitated, then plucked one of the gems off of the table. It was cold to the touch, but now lacked the power to affect the life force of another being as it had before. "It is obsidian... but not as smooth as I would expect. Perhaps finding out what it is, and why it was made that way, will tell us something about this cult."

Most of that explanation went over Jim's head, so he merely nodded to Noira.

Gren eyed the pieces warily. "Yeah, Arillon said something about Psychomancy. It's an art he and Shann use where they place their hands on an object and they can tell things about it. Maybe they can do that to the amulet."

Noira thought for a long moment... "I can return to RhyDin... and begin a correspondence with Arillon and Shann, to follow whatever leads they may provide. With the wealth of libraries in that city, we are more likely to find a lead there than in any other place. I shall also keep my eyes open, as they say; I should not be surprised if any number of the cultists vanished into places like Badside, if they have truly fled Perrigan's territory."

"If you think that's best", Gren nodded to Noira, trusting her decision. "I probably need to get Izira back to the Inn soon." He glanced at her empty plate. "After she's finished eating, of course."

Izira made an apologetic smile to Gren. "Maybe I could get something for the road?"

"I do," Noira said, though she sounded a little uncertain. "I don't..." She frowned. "My brush with undeath is so near at hand... but I wish to remain as active as I can, for that very reason. I am sure we will see one another in the city," she said to Gren and Izira both. "And I plan to stop by the Inn first, before I go. To, um. Gather a few things." She colored slightly and raised her coffee for another sip.

"I'm sure a few thingswill appreciate that." Izira grinned, pouring herself a cup of tea. She looked back to Gren, "I am well enough for us to see Arillon and Shann, and Malcolm first."
"I am... simply... hungry."

"Whatever you both decide, that is fine with me", Gren quickly agreed.

Varushka reentered with a plate of eggs over easy and some ham slices. "I thought you might like some ham and eggs, um . . . everyone", she declared, although she was looking at Jim mostly. Setting the tray down on the table, she began to clean up some of the dishes and silverware, before returning to the kitchen again.

"I will defer to Noira's wisdom", Izira remarked. Also the plate of food that was set before them was also slid toward her with an apologetic smile to Jim as she mouthed a 'sorry so hungry'.

Gren returned his attention to Noira. "If you need a break after all this, I wouldn't blame you."

Noira tucked into a small plate of ham and eggs. She had taken a few bites, then set the fork down to look between Gren and Izira with a sad smile. "I think... returning to war was not good for me, in ways I do not often think about, and... I found solace and healing at the Forgotten Layers, but now I have a fresh wound to tend to. But only for a time. I will return when the task is done," she promised them, with a brighter turn to her smile.

Gren nodded. "If you feel this is something you need to do on your own, I understand. We'll wait for your return. I hope you find what you're looking for."

"Yes." Izira nodded, keeping her answer short before she took another bite.

"For the time being, what I am looking for is another platter of pancakes to share. Then we can work on the rest," Noira added with another fond smile, toasting them with her mug of coffee.

"Yes! More pancakes! And a toast! To new companions in the fight for justice and to temporary farewells that may soon blossom into happy returns!" Jim held his mug out as well.

"Here, here!" Gren said, agreeing.

Hearing the word pancakes in the back, Varushka let out an "Oh!" and hurried back in with another steaming plate. "My, you all must be famished this morning!"

Noira clunked her mug against her companions', and winked at Varushka. "Fighting evil is hungry work."