To Brindle the pain in his heart was unbearable. To watch from the shadows the sadness of his granddaughter was more than he could stand. Quietly he slipped out of sight knowing that Sirhan was right though he hated to admit it. All he could think of was getting Mira away from Jaxe and the lasting memory of his death. The dwarf king had stayed his hand reminding him that this would be the last chance for her to say her goodbye.
As he slowly made his way, and he cared not where, a cold wind tugged at the hem of his robe. A fitting eulogy to what had happened so far. He thought about his own relationship with Jaxe Blade. Truth be told, he never understood how the man could manage to get himself into the predicaments he did. It seemed that at every turn he was caught in some kind of death struggle. And to Brindle's utter amazement he managed to survive them all.
After a moment he realized he'd wandered a distance away from the camp. He didn't want to leave Mira there too long and as he was about to turn, in the distance he heard Timber growl. Bending at the waist he saw the cat's crouching form.With a scowl, Brindle shook his head and stomped his way forward muttering all the while.
"Darn cat, what have you found this time?"
Wayward Adventures
Moderators: Kaylin, Gabriel Ravenlock
Re: Wayward Adventures
She didn't really know if she could face burying Jaxe and in fact, she couldn't even look at him. Though her lips closed her tongue moved, attempting to find words without seeming she was about to break down into tears. Which wasn't far from the truth. The pain was a deep ache that screamed to be released. A deep pain that was even far more painful than the death that tore through her at a slow crawl. "Sirhan..I will leave that to your care. I will see how Mira and Brindle is."
She was curious as to why it looked like Brindle was getting ready to leave. Was it that he knew of their leave even before she did? She didn't know if the words passed between Sirhan and Brindle. Before the dwarf could argue, or get her in some way to face the fact that Jaxe was truly dead, she moved with sharp steps towards Brindle.
Out of the corner of her gaze, she watched Mira leave the side of Jaxe and a faint hint of a smile tugged her lips. Mira was such a strong young girl. She would grow into a fine woman one day. The smile faded as she grew closer to Brindle, the elder used more or less as an excuse. There was still the problem of her sickness. The mage seemed to get the idea but should she verbally share it with Sirhan?
"Brindle..?" Her voice spoke light to gain the elder's attention without spooking him. A slow blink when he all but barked at Timber and her gaze turned to the trees. "Do you think he's found trouble?"
Without waiting for an answer she started to wander off in order to find the swampcat. Mira needed the creature there with her. Even if the creature didn't trust her she would scold it to the child's side.
She was curious as to why it looked like Brindle was getting ready to leave. Was it that he knew of their leave even before she did? She didn't know if the words passed between Sirhan and Brindle. Before the dwarf could argue, or get her in some way to face the fact that Jaxe was truly dead, she moved with sharp steps towards Brindle.
Out of the corner of her gaze, she watched Mira leave the side of Jaxe and a faint hint of a smile tugged her lips. Mira was such a strong young girl. She would grow into a fine woman one day. The smile faded as she grew closer to Brindle, the elder used more or less as an excuse. There was still the problem of her sickness. The mage seemed to get the idea but should she verbally share it with Sirhan?
"Brindle..?" Her voice spoke light to gain the elder's attention without spooking him. A slow blink when he all but barked at Timber and her gaze turned to the trees. "Do you think he's found trouble?"
Without waiting for an answer she started to wander off in order to find the swampcat. Mira needed the creature there with her. Even if the creature didn't trust her she would scold it to the child's side.
Re: Wayward Adventures
.....Ten days prior.....
A door servant by the name of Avent stepped clear of Garland's shadow as he walked past. Still bowing, he saw the soldier disappear around the corner with a rather brisk step to his often measured gait. A deep frown as he immediately knew that something was terribly wrong. Quietly he closed the door wishing that somehow the brightness of the day could penetrate the cloud of gloom that the armsmaster had brought with him.
The palace was a place of the honor among men. Tall and imposing from a distance above the storehouses and homes within the kingdom, it stood as a memory of hope should despair come calling at the doorstep of Armengar. Broad and spacious with its walls lined with colorful paintings, massive marble pillars that stood the testament of time, and colorful pennants that flapped lazily in the breeze atop the four spiraling towers that overlooked the palace.
All this was a postmark to the marching figure of Garland as he made his way toward the east end of the palace. Serving men and women casually went about their business of changing linen and cooking for those that would be attending the meeting. All noticed the passing armsmaster and gave him a wide birth seeing the scowl on his rugged face.
Once he passed, all watched as he vanished from view.
~
A shout went up alerting those on the battlements to take heed and look to the east. Pikemen and archers manning their posts wondered what it was that they were witnessing. In the distance something was coming along the main road toward the gates of Armengar. The sound of running would soon follow, and suddenly along the rampart came the arrival of the Watchman.'
His cape snapping against his headlong charge, gloved hands would shake free his spyglass. Dropping to knee along a carved ledge high above the ground and looking out over the open plain a puzzled expression would be replaced by a shout for the messenger. Soon, a young man appeared dressed in simple clothes, his face eager in anticipation what news he would have to deliver to the prince.
The Watchman spoke quickly while gesturing and after a moment the messenger was off. Taking the stone steps two at a time leading down to the courtyard, a guard was waiting holding leather reins to a horse ready to ride. Gaining the saddle, the youth pressed his heels to geldings flanks and was soon galloping up along the road toward the palace, his face flushed with excitement.
~
All waited as patiently as possible for the prince to enter the chamber. Several men of the city counsel were in attendance representing their local districts. All looked uncomfortable seeing as they were dressed in formal attire. All had been escorted to the main tower, the tallest of the four.
It's floor of polished cherrywood, the long table carved of intricate design in strong oak. The high backed chairs where great minds had made important decisions were now lined with men of not worthy of their seating. All that but a select few. Albrey LaMey, who was the head healer of the kingdom. A tall man who's skills at herbs and teas was well renowned. He sat silently, eyes closed and fingers interlocked. His white hair set to a ponytail that lounged over of robe of the deepest purple.
Braun Telly, a tough looking man broad of shoulder and smelling of the sea, sat across the table. His hair as black as ink matching the steely gaze of his eyes that missed little. Thick arms bristling with muscle flexed with every subtle movement. He was the Harbor Master and it was his job, with his men, to guard the docks from any ship and its crew that sought mischief or did not have the proper credentials to put to port.
But there was yet one other who had yet to appear...
~
Prince Arlin sat quietly, his back pressed against the padded brown leather of his chair, his boots propped up against the warmth of the hearth as he found kinship with a glass of wine. Youthful in appearance, his eyes reflected the tepid flames that had all but done away with several pieces of wood.
Thoughts of his father filled him with mixed emotions. There were the times they had gone hunting, Arlin just a lad when he was given his first bow by Garland. Strong and perfected by the armsmaster, it had taken sometime to get used to. He remembered the proud look on the king's face when he snared his first rabbit.
Then there was the memory of his mother wailing away in grief at the revelation that his father had been killed on the field of battle. Lost as he defended those laying at his side, most already dead, but refusing to let the horrors touch them. Arlin had had to grow up faster than he would have liked.
That memory was still fresh in his mind...as if it had happened yesterday.
She died soon after of a broken heart. Buried now both of them in a the courtyard paraded around by flowers and overshadowed by willow trees.
How he missed them.
A teenager then when the war came to its conclusion. The Dark Horde had been defeated and imprisoned behind the Veil. Sirhan and his dwarven fighters returned to Black Rock having fought courageously and gained more honor among the Races. King Elless of the elves, his fighters having inflicted great losses but suffering them as well. In doing so he swore should another battle come to the Realm, he would protect the Willows and nothing more.
And then there was the 'Circle of the Rose'. Some of those who sought greater power had inadvertently created the Dark Horde. A inner battle that brought about the destruction and the aftermath of the Jagged Peaks. Even now there was great distrust of anyone who spoke of the mages.
But time was growing short. Finishing what remained of his wine, Prince Telwen Arlin set the goblet down and stood. Watching the last of the hearth's flames fade made him wonder at his own fate. Peace had been the norm of the Realm for many a year, so much so that he had recently thought of traveling. But that all seemed a distant memory now.
Walking over to a table, on it's surface was a long wooden box, it's lid placed by to one side. Inside, the dark velvet lining was empty. Then the prince looked at the unrolled parchment laid flat to be easily read.
It matched the one that his father had recieved years ago.
It was in writing of the 'Old One'...and it's invitation was a invitation to War.
A door servant by the name of Avent stepped clear of Garland's shadow as he walked past. Still bowing, he saw the soldier disappear around the corner with a rather brisk step to his often measured gait. A deep frown as he immediately knew that something was terribly wrong. Quietly he closed the door wishing that somehow the brightness of the day could penetrate the cloud of gloom that the armsmaster had brought with him.
The palace was a place of the honor among men. Tall and imposing from a distance above the storehouses and homes within the kingdom, it stood as a memory of hope should despair come calling at the doorstep of Armengar. Broad and spacious with its walls lined with colorful paintings, massive marble pillars that stood the testament of time, and colorful pennants that flapped lazily in the breeze atop the four spiraling towers that overlooked the palace.
All this was a postmark to the marching figure of Garland as he made his way toward the east end of the palace. Serving men and women casually went about their business of changing linen and cooking for those that would be attending the meeting. All noticed the passing armsmaster and gave him a wide birth seeing the scowl on his rugged face.
Once he passed, all watched as he vanished from view.
~
A shout went up alerting those on the battlements to take heed and look to the east. Pikemen and archers manning their posts wondered what it was that they were witnessing. In the distance something was coming along the main road toward the gates of Armengar. The sound of running would soon follow, and suddenly along the rampart came the arrival of the Watchman.'
His cape snapping against his headlong charge, gloved hands would shake free his spyglass. Dropping to knee along a carved ledge high above the ground and looking out over the open plain a puzzled expression would be replaced by a shout for the messenger. Soon, a young man appeared dressed in simple clothes, his face eager in anticipation what news he would have to deliver to the prince.
The Watchman spoke quickly while gesturing and after a moment the messenger was off. Taking the stone steps two at a time leading down to the courtyard, a guard was waiting holding leather reins to a horse ready to ride. Gaining the saddle, the youth pressed his heels to geldings flanks and was soon galloping up along the road toward the palace, his face flushed with excitement.
~
All waited as patiently as possible for the prince to enter the chamber. Several men of the city counsel were in attendance representing their local districts. All looked uncomfortable seeing as they were dressed in formal attire. All had been escorted to the main tower, the tallest of the four.
It's floor of polished cherrywood, the long table carved of intricate design in strong oak. The high backed chairs where great minds had made important decisions were now lined with men of not worthy of their seating. All that but a select few. Albrey LaMey, who was the head healer of the kingdom. A tall man who's skills at herbs and teas was well renowned. He sat silently, eyes closed and fingers interlocked. His white hair set to a ponytail that lounged over of robe of the deepest purple.
Braun Telly, a tough looking man broad of shoulder and smelling of the sea, sat across the table. His hair as black as ink matching the steely gaze of his eyes that missed little. Thick arms bristling with muscle flexed with every subtle movement. He was the Harbor Master and it was his job, with his men, to guard the docks from any ship and its crew that sought mischief or did not have the proper credentials to put to port.
But there was yet one other who had yet to appear...
~
Prince Arlin sat quietly, his back pressed against the padded brown leather of his chair, his boots propped up against the warmth of the hearth as he found kinship with a glass of wine. Youthful in appearance, his eyes reflected the tepid flames that had all but done away with several pieces of wood.
Thoughts of his father filled him with mixed emotions. There were the times they had gone hunting, Arlin just a lad when he was given his first bow by Garland. Strong and perfected by the armsmaster, it had taken sometime to get used to. He remembered the proud look on the king's face when he snared his first rabbit.
Then there was the memory of his mother wailing away in grief at the revelation that his father had been killed on the field of battle. Lost as he defended those laying at his side, most already dead, but refusing to let the horrors touch them. Arlin had had to grow up faster than he would have liked.
That memory was still fresh in his mind...as if it had happened yesterday.
She died soon after of a broken heart. Buried now both of them in a the courtyard paraded around by flowers and overshadowed by willow trees.
How he missed them.
A teenager then when the war came to its conclusion. The Dark Horde had been defeated and imprisoned behind the Veil. Sirhan and his dwarven fighters returned to Black Rock having fought courageously and gained more honor among the Races. King Elless of the elves, his fighters having inflicted great losses but suffering them as well. In doing so he swore should another battle come to the Realm, he would protect the Willows and nothing more.
And then there was the 'Circle of the Rose'. Some of those who sought greater power had inadvertently created the Dark Horde. A inner battle that brought about the destruction and the aftermath of the Jagged Peaks. Even now there was great distrust of anyone who spoke of the mages.
But time was growing short. Finishing what remained of his wine, Prince Telwen Arlin set the goblet down and stood. Watching the last of the hearth's flames fade made him wonder at his own fate. Peace had been the norm of the Realm for many a year, so much so that he had recently thought of traveling. But that all seemed a distant memory now.
Walking over to a table, on it's surface was a long wooden box, it's lid placed by to one side. Inside, the dark velvet lining was empty. Then the prince looked at the unrolled parchment laid flat to be easily read.
It matched the one that his father had recieved years ago.
It was in writing of the 'Old One'...and it's invitation was a invitation to War.
Re: Wayward Adventures
The door to the counsel chamber opened dismissing the irritations of those sequestered as all eyes turned to regard those entering the room. Prince Talwen and two others that followed. Each were tall and slender, golden hair pulled back and tapered with a black leather band. There would no mistaking the almond shaped eyes or the ferocity of their green gaze as they gave measure to each man seated.
All those in attendance began to rise but was quickly dismissed by a 'no-need hand gesture from the prince.
"Please be seated."
Chairs were scooted close to the table and fingers interlocked while awaiting what word of this pressing need for the meeting. Rumors had run amok but few would give in to actually guessing. All knew that a call of the High Counsel consisted of planning and preparations for war. But there had been peace in the Realm. A patchwork of lands and kingdoms, of seas and islands, most still unknown to Armengar.
As far as the dwarven nation and the kingdom of Willow, a seamless thread of peace had come into existence. The rigors of the Bleak War had taken a toll and many had been comforted by the protective barrier of the Veil. Though not all. Sir Thaddas Garland had been one. Even in that fateful day as the army of the elves could be seen heading away from the battlefield carrying their dead, he'd shaken his head as a dark cloaked figure stood close by.
"We will be back," the armsmaster muttered, his body peppered in sweat and splotches of blood.
Zachery Roe remained silent, his visage as dark as the stains now covering the grasses. Through great pains he had imprisoned the Dark Horde. A massive shield that covered the entire breath and length of the Jagged Peaks. It had taken nearly all he had and at this moment, he felt closer to death than he had ever had. Garland's words hung in the air like the unbearable heat of the day, merciless and tinged with the coppery scent of spilled blood.
Truth be told, it was the Circle of the Rose that had brought about this madness. Men gifted, but with the gift came the beckoning fingers of power and greed. There were those that could not resist its soothing call and in doing so sought to gain rule over the Realm and those within its borders. That's when citizens began disappearing. Drunkards thieves and brawlers who began to mysteriously vanish from towns and villages.
Soon thereafter there were strange sightings at the falling of twilight. Then came the scenes of death on deserted streets and in various cities and countrysides. He himself having traveled to a distant land, upon his return and subsequent investigation, it dawned upon him what had taken place.
It was soon that his arrival back at the temple of the Circle' was greeted with hostility. The stone pillars shook with the engagement of battle. A mage war is not a desirous one. Not all had gone along with the maddening scheme. And those stood at his side as threads of power and weaving caused the ground to tremble. At it's ending, the mountains that had been a portrait of green grass and vibrate flowers shadowed by lush forests had been reduced to a wasteland.
The landscape had been transformed into desolation. The canopy of leaves were replaced by ghostly limbs of trees devoid of life. The ground now hard and unforgiving from the immense purging of power from those seeking the upper hand. At its conclusion, all of who remained from the Circle of the Rose was Zachery Roe. Bloody but unbowed he knew from that moment on that he would have to pay a penance for those who had created the nightmares that now roamed the Realm.
Though he wished it finished, deep down he knew the fact of the matter.
He could only hope that Garland's words would not be a precursor of things to come.
All those in attendance began to rise but was quickly dismissed by a 'no-need hand gesture from the prince.
"Please be seated."
Chairs were scooted close to the table and fingers interlocked while awaiting what word of this pressing need for the meeting. Rumors had run amok but few would give in to actually guessing. All knew that a call of the High Counsel consisted of planning and preparations for war. But there had been peace in the Realm. A patchwork of lands and kingdoms, of seas and islands, most still unknown to Armengar.
As far as the dwarven nation and the kingdom of Willow, a seamless thread of peace had come into existence. The rigors of the Bleak War had taken a toll and many had been comforted by the protective barrier of the Veil. Though not all. Sir Thaddas Garland had been one. Even in that fateful day as the army of the elves could be seen heading away from the battlefield carrying their dead, he'd shaken his head as a dark cloaked figure stood close by.
"We will be back," the armsmaster muttered, his body peppered in sweat and splotches of blood.
Zachery Roe remained silent, his visage as dark as the stains now covering the grasses. Through great pains he had imprisoned the Dark Horde. A massive shield that covered the entire breath and length of the Jagged Peaks. It had taken nearly all he had and at this moment, he felt closer to death than he had ever had. Garland's words hung in the air like the unbearable heat of the day, merciless and tinged with the coppery scent of spilled blood.
Truth be told, it was the Circle of the Rose that had brought about this madness. Men gifted, but with the gift came the beckoning fingers of power and greed. There were those that could not resist its soothing call and in doing so sought to gain rule over the Realm and those within its borders. That's when citizens began disappearing. Drunkards thieves and brawlers who began to mysteriously vanish from towns and villages.
Soon thereafter there were strange sightings at the falling of twilight. Then came the scenes of death on deserted streets and in various cities and countrysides. He himself having traveled to a distant land, upon his return and subsequent investigation, it dawned upon him what had taken place.
It was soon that his arrival back at the temple of the Circle' was greeted with hostility. The stone pillars shook with the engagement of battle. A mage war is not a desirous one. Not all had gone along with the maddening scheme. And those stood at his side as threads of power and weaving caused the ground to tremble. At it's ending, the mountains that had been a portrait of green grass and vibrate flowers shadowed by lush forests had been reduced to a wasteland.
The landscape had been transformed into desolation. The canopy of leaves were replaced by ghostly limbs of trees devoid of life. The ground now hard and unforgiving from the immense purging of power from those seeking the upper hand. At its conclusion, all of who remained from the Circle of the Rose was Zachery Roe. Bloody but unbowed he knew from that moment on that he would have to pay a penance for those who had created the nightmares that now roamed the Realm.
Though he wished it finished, deep down he knew the fact of the matter.
He could only hope that Garland's words would not be a precursor of things to come.
Re: Wayward Adventures
Brindle nearly jumped out his slippers when he heard Kaylin's voice. He turned, cheeks flushed as he flapped his arms in consternation.
"What are you trying to do? Kill me?! Don't you know not to sneak up on a old man like that?"
"Trouble?", he replied to answer to her question, "With him who knows..."
Brindle watched as Kaylin didn't stay to listen. She saw Timber as well and heard him growl but both of them couldn't make out what all the fuss was about. White brows dipping in frustration, he followed not knowing what they would find, but the way things had been going of late, he doubted it would be good...
"What are you trying to do? Kill me?! Don't you know not to sneak up on a old man like that?"
"Trouble?", he replied to answer to her question, "With him who knows..."
Brindle watched as Kaylin didn't stay to listen. She saw Timber as well and heard him growl but both of them couldn't make out what all the fuss was about. White brows dipping in frustration, he followed not knowing what they would find, but the way things had been going of late, he doubted it would be good...
Re: Wayward Adventures
He dared not to move.
Sir Garland though would not break the locked gaze between he and the large cat. It's sleek black fur rippled with the threat to pounce should he flinch. He was a soldier and knew how to size up a opponent. And although he had his men at his back, he realized that their attempt at his rescue would surely be the cause his death.
He had broken his own rule. In a moment of uncertainty he'd let old memories and the recent turn of events lull him away from the moment and now he would likely pay for it with his life. Still, he kept his face a mere inches from the rows of sharp teeth that gleamed with purpose and deadly intent.
And in that instant he captured a sight out of the corner of his eye. It was one hard to believe. The appearance of a young woman as she dipped below a branch and came to stand with her hands on her hips. He could only imagine the look on her face. Nothing, he supposed, like his own.
Wonders never ceased to amaze him.
Sir Garland though would not break the locked gaze between he and the large cat. It's sleek black fur rippled with the threat to pounce should he flinch. He was a soldier and knew how to size up a opponent. And although he had his men at his back, he realized that their attempt at his rescue would surely be the cause his death.
He had broken his own rule. In a moment of uncertainty he'd let old memories and the recent turn of events lull him away from the moment and now he would likely pay for it with his life. Still, he kept his face a mere inches from the rows of sharp teeth that gleamed with purpose and deadly intent.
And in that instant he captured a sight out of the corner of his eye. It was one hard to believe. The appearance of a young woman as she dipped below a branch and came to stand with her hands on her hips. He could only imagine the look on her face. Nothing, he supposed, like his own.
Wonders never ceased to amaze him.
Re: Wayward Adventures
Brindle's choice of words were ill-chosen but she made no attempt to fuss at him over it. They needed to move soon and with Timber growling at something, probably a rabbit for dinner, she needed the cat with Mira to comfort the child.
Weaving through the foliage she muttered under breath. Palm pressed to a branch to nudge it out the way it was held so as not to slap back onto the old man who followed. Once he had passed she continued on, dipping under another branch as she spied the large beast of a feline. Low and behold the subject of its guard.
It wasn't what she was expecting and yet it didn't surprise her. Palms settled onto the slope of her hips, elbows turned out in an akimbo stance. The sight was just to be taken in for a time. Part of her ached to tell the feline to have his way with the man but to make it quick. Again, they needed to move out. Time was of the essence.
Slowly her lips parted and her voice echoed from the barely parted tiers. "Who are you and why are you spying? Best be quick with your answer before the feline decides you are worthy of dinner."
As she spoke her dark gaze swept over the man, taking in his attire and what would note him as a battle fairing figure. A warrior. While she waited for her answer she dipped her head faintly. Enough to keep her gaze from being tracked as she glanced around their surroundings. He couldn't be alone, could he? Suddenly alarms went up at the possibilities of attack. Mira and the dwarf were alone. Slowly her body shifted and she started to move into a more strategic position near Brindle as if she were to protect him from whatever may befall them.
After Jaxe's death, the sight of a new being was not one she was quite welcoming. She was suspicious of this man and it seems that the swampcat was just as..
Weaving through the foliage she muttered under breath. Palm pressed to a branch to nudge it out the way it was held so as not to slap back onto the old man who followed. Once he had passed she continued on, dipping under another branch as she spied the large beast of a feline. Low and behold the subject of its guard.
It wasn't what she was expecting and yet it didn't surprise her. Palms settled onto the slope of her hips, elbows turned out in an akimbo stance. The sight was just to be taken in for a time. Part of her ached to tell the feline to have his way with the man but to make it quick. Again, they needed to move out. Time was of the essence.
Slowly her lips parted and her voice echoed from the barely parted tiers. "Who are you and why are you spying? Best be quick with your answer before the feline decides you are worthy of dinner."
As she spoke her dark gaze swept over the man, taking in his attire and what would note him as a battle fairing figure. A warrior. While she waited for her answer she dipped her head faintly. Enough to keep her gaze from being tracked as she glanced around their surroundings. He couldn't be alone, could he? Suddenly alarms went up at the possibilities of attack. Mira and the dwarf were alone. Slowly her body shifted and she started to move into a more strategic position near Brindle as if she were to protect him from whatever may befall them.
After Jaxe's death, the sight of a new being was not one she was quite welcoming. She was suspicious of this man and it seems that the swampcat was just as..
Re: Wayward Adventures
The prince took his seat at the head of the table shadowed by the two who followed. Studious eyes followed and the heat of their gaze was obvious. Questions yet unanswered were waiting to be forwarded. And they would continue to grow as Arlin gave a nod to the elf standing to his to his right.
A measured stride carried him out of the room. Many watched with curious glances. Then, a short time later came his his return and he did not come back empty handed. The prince reached out for the long angular box presented to him. Setting it upon the table he removed the lid and set it aside. Nearly all seated leaned forward. There were the few exceptions. Sir Garland's expression mirrored a man who had suddenly digested something bitter. Albrey LaMey sighed deeply accompanied by his fingers tightening on the edge of the table.
They knew.
They had played very important roles in the Bleak War.
For those others that had lived through the war, there had been the pressing need to forget. Should they not, there would be many sleepless nights. So even now they did not realize that the box they now examined from a distance was the exact duplicate of the one delivered when his father ruled as king.
The rolled parchment was gathered and held out for all to see. Prince Arlin then let his gaze circle the table wanting to make sure he had their attention, and indeed he did. There would no easy way to put it. The nightmares would become reality once more.
"This is a message sent from the Old One."
Shouts erupted from those seated. The room's crystal glasses nearly vibrated from the choruses of disbelief. Arlin sat back finding sanctuary against the soft leather padding of his chair. Fingers pressed together in a temple, he would wait out the storm...there was little else he could do. The moment called for venting out the impossibility of what had just been said.
He caught eyes with Garland. The commander of the Steel Lions' sat, his fingers slowly drumming along the polished surface of the table. There was forged steel in his gaze, his face set in a fierceness that the prince had seldom seen. Already he was preparing himself for what was coming.
As the heat of the moment continued on unabated, a guard set outside of the chamber, peeked in. A acknowledgment passed as suddenly a young man entered. The youth at first seemed taken aback by the shouting, but noticing the prince waiting, raised his chin and hurried forward.
The messenger paused briefly recognizing the two towering elves standing on either side of the prince's chair. Tight smiles were passed down from both. Prince Arlin leaned forward and listened while words were whispered. Then, from one of his pants pocket, a silver coin was retrieved and placed in the young man's hand. A look of delight as it was looked it over. A word of thanks before he bounded toward the door and out of the room.
Arlin settled back, his eyes marking the men of the Counsel and wondering when they would tire out. Deciding that now was the time, he raised his hand. Immediately all fell silent. Taking his own lean forward he spoke in the sudden stillness.
"It seems that the Veil instituted by Zachery Roe is failing." He raised his hand quickly against the building tide of questions ready to be tossed his way.
"I have not the answers as to the why. All I know is that the Old One has sent me a message informing me that those of the Dark Horde that survived will soon escape. That means, gentlemen, that we must prepare for the inevitable, and the possibility of war."
It was if the life had been sucked out of the room. Many had come in with their backs held straight. Now some were slumped over, eyes distant having been pried away from the present to revisit the past. How could they go back to their districts and give the news? There would be the immediate questions of how, followed by fear.
In the passing years many that survived the Bleak War had passed on. But, there were those that still remained and the stories that were told were a reality to those not having suffered through those dark times.
"Can this possibly be true?"
Tomas Gragler, a soldier once but now a prosperous farmer asked the question. What he had endured was obvious by the many crags in his face. Eyes that had seen too much seemed tired and lacking that spark of life. He was now one sitting in dejection. Wisps of gray hair curtaining a bald scalp. Grangler had the look of a man ready to dig his own grave.
"I knew this would happen."
All eyes turned to the one who'd spoken. Sir Garland, his voice strangely hushed, was looking at his own reflection in the high shine of the table.
"I warned the mage. I knew standing on that hill that day watching the corpses of the Dark Horde rotting in the sun, that this wasn't the end of it." He then looked up. "A soldier knows when a battle is truly over."
Suddenly, one of the doors to the Counsel Chamber opened bringing with it the Watchman' and a man looking the worse for wear. Some who had been sitting stood, watching and wondering at the man's dirty clothing. Who would come see the prince in such disarray?
The sentinel raised a gloved fist over his heart, a signal of loyalty to the prince and to Armengar. The prince stood returning it evenly and once finished, turned his attention to the newcomer.
"Welcome to the Counsel." From the man's clothing it was obvious he wasn't a citizen of the kingdom.
"Thank you." His voice was uneven and he shivered though the room was warm.
There were glances from those in the room, one to another, some continuing to stand. With the latest news from the prince, one could only wonder as to the traveler and his sudden appearance. Why was he here and what news was he carrying? Could the Veil have already fallen?
The elven guards watched in silence taking notice that the man didn't possess a weapon. Truth be told, even if he did he didn't look the part to use it. They noticed the troubled look in his eyes. As if he'd seen something to terrible to voice.
Albrey LaMay who was the master healer of Armengar kept vigil over the man as well. There was something well beyond that of physical pain. He stood offering his chair. He and the Watchman sat him down gently. Pulling a small vial from his pocket, the healer persuaded him to drink but to drink slowly.
After a moment a robust color came back to the traveler. Nodding his gratitude, he looked up at Prince Arlin. For some unknown reason tension filled the room. Even Garland now stood as others who'd maintained their chairs did likewise joining those already standing.
"I bring news highness from the east. Many of those in our village are dead, quite a few hurt. Who we could carry we brought with us."
Some of the counsel members stiffened. Then it had already happened. The Veil was no more.
Arlin though, did not jump to so quick a conclusion. "Speak on."
The man's eyes widened as if reliving the moment, his hand reaching out to take hold of the prince...
"Kahlim the Great...he lives!"
In the following silence, one could almost hear the rapid beating of each man's heart.
A measured stride carried him out of the room. Many watched with curious glances. Then, a short time later came his his return and he did not come back empty handed. The prince reached out for the long angular box presented to him. Setting it upon the table he removed the lid and set it aside. Nearly all seated leaned forward. There were the few exceptions. Sir Garland's expression mirrored a man who had suddenly digested something bitter. Albrey LaMey sighed deeply accompanied by his fingers tightening on the edge of the table.
They knew.
They had played very important roles in the Bleak War.
For those others that had lived through the war, there had been the pressing need to forget. Should they not, there would be many sleepless nights. So even now they did not realize that the box they now examined from a distance was the exact duplicate of the one delivered when his father ruled as king.
The rolled parchment was gathered and held out for all to see. Prince Arlin then let his gaze circle the table wanting to make sure he had their attention, and indeed he did. There would no easy way to put it. The nightmares would become reality once more.
"This is a message sent from the Old One."
Shouts erupted from those seated. The room's crystal glasses nearly vibrated from the choruses of disbelief. Arlin sat back finding sanctuary against the soft leather padding of his chair. Fingers pressed together in a temple, he would wait out the storm...there was little else he could do. The moment called for venting out the impossibility of what had just been said.
He caught eyes with Garland. The commander of the Steel Lions' sat, his fingers slowly drumming along the polished surface of the table. There was forged steel in his gaze, his face set in a fierceness that the prince had seldom seen. Already he was preparing himself for what was coming.
As the heat of the moment continued on unabated, a guard set outside of the chamber, peeked in. A acknowledgment passed as suddenly a young man entered. The youth at first seemed taken aback by the shouting, but noticing the prince waiting, raised his chin and hurried forward.
The messenger paused briefly recognizing the two towering elves standing on either side of the prince's chair. Tight smiles were passed down from both. Prince Arlin leaned forward and listened while words were whispered. Then, from one of his pants pocket, a silver coin was retrieved and placed in the young man's hand. A look of delight as it was looked it over. A word of thanks before he bounded toward the door and out of the room.
Arlin settled back, his eyes marking the men of the Counsel and wondering when they would tire out. Deciding that now was the time, he raised his hand. Immediately all fell silent. Taking his own lean forward he spoke in the sudden stillness.
"It seems that the Veil instituted by Zachery Roe is failing." He raised his hand quickly against the building tide of questions ready to be tossed his way.
"I have not the answers as to the why. All I know is that the Old One has sent me a message informing me that those of the Dark Horde that survived will soon escape. That means, gentlemen, that we must prepare for the inevitable, and the possibility of war."
It was if the life had been sucked out of the room. Many had come in with their backs held straight. Now some were slumped over, eyes distant having been pried away from the present to revisit the past. How could they go back to their districts and give the news? There would be the immediate questions of how, followed by fear.
In the passing years many that survived the Bleak War had passed on. But, there were those that still remained and the stories that were told were a reality to those not having suffered through those dark times.
"Can this possibly be true?"
Tomas Gragler, a soldier once but now a prosperous farmer asked the question. What he had endured was obvious by the many crags in his face. Eyes that had seen too much seemed tired and lacking that spark of life. He was now one sitting in dejection. Wisps of gray hair curtaining a bald scalp. Grangler had the look of a man ready to dig his own grave.
"I knew this would happen."
All eyes turned to the one who'd spoken. Sir Garland, his voice strangely hushed, was looking at his own reflection in the high shine of the table.
"I warned the mage. I knew standing on that hill that day watching the corpses of the Dark Horde rotting in the sun, that this wasn't the end of it." He then looked up. "A soldier knows when a battle is truly over."
Suddenly, one of the doors to the Counsel Chamber opened bringing with it the Watchman' and a man looking the worse for wear. Some who had been sitting stood, watching and wondering at the man's dirty clothing. Who would come see the prince in such disarray?
The sentinel raised a gloved fist over his heart, a signal of loyalty to the prince and to Armengar. The prince stood returning it evenly and once finished, turned his attention to the newcomer.
"Welcome to the Counsel." From the man's clothing it was obvious he wasn't a citizen of the kingdom.
"Thank you." His voice was uneven and he shivered though the room was warm.
There were glances from those in the room, one to another, some continuing to stand. With the latest news from the prince, one could only wonder as to the traveler and his sudden appearance. Why was he here and what news was he carrying? Could the Veil have already fallen?
The elven guards watched in silence taking notice that the man didn't possess a weapon. Truth be told, even if he did he didn't look the part to use it. They noticed the troubled look in his eyes. As if he'd seen something to terrible to voice.
Albrey LaMay who was the master healer of Armengar kept vigil over the man as well. There was something well beyond that of physical pain. He stood offering his chair. He and the Watchman sat him down gently. Pulling a small vial from his pocket, the healer persuaded him to drink but to drink slowly.
After a moment a robust color came back to the traveler. Nodding his gratitude, he looked up at Prince Arlin. For some unknown reason tension filled the room. Even Garland now stood as others who'd maintained their chairs did likewise joining those already standing.
"I bring news highness from the east. Many of those in our village are dead, quite a few hurt. Who we could carry we brought with us."
Some of the counsel members stiffened. Then it had already happened. The Veil was no more.
Arlin though, did not jump to so quick a conclusion. "Speak on."
The man's eyes widened as if reliving the moment, his hand reaching out to take hold of the prince...
"Kahlim the Great...he lives!"
In the following silence, one could almost hear the rapid beating of each man's heart.
Re: Wayward Adventures
And as it was...the woman wasn't alone.
Her voice was demanding but her movements supple. There would be no denying the look in her eyes. She was a woman that demanded answers.
Was this her pet? Slowly from the shadows soldiers appeared, hands holding tightly to drawn swords. Timber's eyes marked each one returned by a hiss of defiance.
Kaylin voiced a warning and took up a defensive position as Brindle appeared behind her. What was it now!? Cautiously he placed a hand on her shoulder rising up enough to take a look. White brows arched upward in obvious surprise.
"Sir Garland?"
The soldier blinked at the voice...
"Brindle?"
Kaylin's expression must have been one of complete confusion. Especially when she saw the elder step out and do a little jig. He giggled like a child and then turned, slapping his thigh in the process.
"It IS you!"
Timber then gazed at Garland. A flicker of remembrance perhaps in those golden eyes? The swampcat sniffed once..then twice, the armsmaster feeling his black leathers being pulled with the intensity. Suddenly, he sat back on his haunches along with a yawn though his eyes never leveled off from the soldiers.
The elder ran and embraced the bear of a man as he came to his feet. After a moment they both began laughing, Garland returning the affectionate hug. Standing him at arms length, he shook his head.
"I thought I'd never see the likes of you again."
"Or I you," replied the elder.
Without turning around, he issued the order to sheath swords to his men. Those standing behind him were now more confused then before. Their expression a mirror of the one Kaylin wore, but they did as commanded.
Garland then looked at Timber remembering the last time he'd saw the cat. It had grown even more. That in itself was terrifying. The passing years had been plentiful, so much so that he hadn't recognized him. It was obvious Timber had forgotten as well. Silently he was thankful for Brindle's sudden and unexpected arrival.
He might as well be dead otherwise.
The elder's brow arched suddenly. "What are you doing here?"
"Trying not to be the cat's dinner." Garland gave a wink in Kaylin's direction and from her look, she seemed anything but amused.
Clearing his throat suddenly, he ran a hand over his chestnut colored beard. "Prince Arlin sent me. The Old One sent him a letter, and it consisted more of just those we were sent to find. No names mind you, just that help would be needed. I'm surprised to find just the three of you..."
It then dawned on him that Timber never went anywhere without the girl Mira.
Garland's voice deepened when he asked where Brindle's granddaughter was. A bit of alarm at the possibility that something had happened to her.
"No,no...she's...", the elder's voice trailed off. "She's back at the campfire."
Something in his voice caused him a bit of alarm. "What is it, what's happened?'
Brindle pushed back the lump rising in his throat. A mist was threatening his ability to see as he turned away and headed to where Kaylin stood. "Come back to the camp, you and your men. We will discuss what has transpired there."
Sir Garland could hear the pain of sadness in his voice. Something terrible had happened and he was unable, or unwilling to speak about it.
"Bring the horses," he ordered as he fell into tow.
Soon they came to stand before the young woman. "This, this is Kaylin."
There was a twinkle in the old man's eye that had been missing for sometime. She knew not the history of the two but saw more of a step in the elder than she could remember.
The armsmaster held out his arm waiting for the warrior's grip. He could see it in her eyes. Somewhere within that lithe frame was a hidden strength and he guessed, much more.
Her voice was demanding but her movements supple. There would be no denying the look in her eyes. She was a woman that demanded answers.
Was this her pet? Slowly from the shadows soldiers appeared, hands holding tightly to drawn swords. Timber's eyes marked each one returned by a hiss of defiance.
Kaylin voiced a warning and took up a defensive position as Brindle appeared behind her. What was it now!? Cautiously he placed a hand on her shoulder rising up enough to take a look. White brows arched upward in obvious surprise.
"Sir Garland?"
The soldier blinked at the voice...
"Brindle?"
Kaylin's expression must have been one of complete confusion. Especially when she saw the elder step out and do a little jig. He giggled like a child and then turned, slapping his thigh in the process.
"It IS you!"
Timber then gazed at Garland. A flicker of remembrance perhaps in those golden eyes? The swampcat sniffed once..then twice, the armsmaster feeling his black leathers being pulled with the intensity. Suddenly, he sat back on his haunches along with a yawn though his eyes never leveled off from the soldiers.
The elder ran and embraced the bear of a man as he came to his feet. After a moment they both began laughing, Garland returning the affectionate hug. Standing him at arms length, he shook his head.
"I thought I'd never see the likes of you again."
"Or I you," replied the elder.
Without turning around, he issued the order to sheath swords to his men. Those standing behind him were now more confused then before. Their expression a mirror of the one Kaylin wore, but they did as commanded.
Garland then looked at Timber remembering the last time he'd saw the cat. It had grown even more. That in itself was terrifying. The passing years had been plentiful, so much so that he hadn't recognized him. It was obvious Timber had forgotten as well. Silently he was thankful for Brindle's sudden and unexpected arrival.
He might as well be dead otherwise.
The elder's brow arched suddenly. "What are you doing here?"
"Trying not to be the cat's dinner." Garland gave a wink in Kaylin's direction and from her look, she seemed anything but amused.
Clearing his throat suddenly, he ran a hand over his chestnut colored beard. "Prince Arlin sent me. The Old One sent him a letter, and it consisted more of just those we were sent to find. No names mind you, just that help would be needed. I'm surprised to find just the three of you..."
It then dawned on him that Timber never went anywhere without the girl Mira.
Garland's voice deepened when he asked where Brindle's granddaughter was. A bit of alarm at the possibility that something had happened to her.
"No,no...she's...", the elder's voice trailed off. "She's back at the campfire."
Something in his voice caused him a bit of alarm. "What is it, what's happened?'
Brindle pushed back the lump rising in his throat. A mist was threatening his ability to see as he turned away and headed to where Kaylin stood. "Come back to the camp, you and your men. We will discuss what has transpired there."
Sir Garland could hear the pain of sadness in his voice. Something terrible had happened and he was unable, or unwilling to speak about it.
"Bring the horses," he ordered as he fell into tow.
Soon they came to stand before the young woman. "This, this is Kaylin."
There was a twinkle in the old man's eye that had been missing for sometime. She knew not the history of the two but saw more of a step in the elder than she could remember.
The armsmaster held out his arm waiting for the warrior's grip. He could see it in her eyes. Somewhere within that lithe frame was a hidden strength and he guessed, much more.
Re: Wayward Adventures
The Willows ~
The long shadows of the forest drew upon the standing figure lounging against the balcony doors that overlooked the great mass of elder trees that grew to great heights. Sunlight dappled against the canopy of thick leaves allowing few of the glowing beams to find the ground below.
Along thick branches homes and shops were built. A network of ladders and steps connecting one district to another. This was the stronghold of the elves, the sanctuary of the Willows.
King Elless stood draped in little more than a white robe. Morning came early and his sleep was not one of comfort. Quietly he awoke and found himself looking out over the forest kingdom with more than a few unanswered questions.
The elves were a race that was part of nature itself. They were attuned to the subtle vibrations that came from the heart of earth. That was why he found himself edged with worry. For years there had been peace in the Realm. Ever since the great battle of the Bleak War he swore that should ever the elves be called upon again, he would shun the request.
Lifting a cup of steaming tea he took a sip letting the warmth of the sun comfort him. It was years before the elves could recover the loses of those who had died on the battlefield. They were not like Men. The birthing of children was easy for them. With elves, it took time for there were certain periods when the women were fertile. And those cycling times came season by season.
And for some unexplainable reason lately, the great tress of the Willows were uneasy. He could feel the strain of their uncertainty. Something was amiss. A thought came into play. Obviously the Willows themselves were well protected so whatever was happening was happening on the 'Outside'.
"Husband?"
"And I thought I had done a masterful job of not waking you."
The king turned to see the lounging figure of the queen stirring beneath the bedsheets. She was radiantly beautiful. Long strands of black hair cascading as a ebony waterfall over her shoulders. The jade green eyes sparkled with gold captivated all who beheld them.
"You did not wake me, it was your absence from my side." She purposely let the blanket slip down low enough to entice his eyes away from what was causing him worry.
With a chuckle he set down the cup of tea on a table and made his way back to the bed. Slipping beneath the covers being held out for him, the king kissed his queen lovingly on the forehead.
"You know me too well," his whispered, his lips brushing her ear.
"And that is such a bad thing?," she teased.
There would be little need for further conversation that day.
The long shadows of the forest drew upon the standing figure lounging against the balcony doors that overlooked the great mass of elder trees that grew to great heights. Sunlight dappled against the canopy of thick leaves allowing few of the glowing beams to find the ground below.
Along thick branches homes and shops were built. A network of ladders and steps connecting one district to another. This was the stronghold of the elves, the sanctuary of the Willows.
King Elless stood draped in little more than a white robe. Morning came early and his sleep was not one of comfort. Quietly he awoke and found himself looking out over the forest kingdom with more than a few unanswered questions.
The elves were a race that was part of nature itself. They were attuned to the subtle vibrations that came from the heart of earth. That was why he found himself edged with worry. For years there had been peace in the Realm. Ever since the great battle of the Bleak War he swore that should ever the elves be called upon again, he would shun the request.
Lifting a cup of steaming tea he took a sip letting the warmth of the sun comfort him. It was years before the elves could recover the loses of those who had died on the battlefield. They were not like Men. The birthing of children was easy for them. With elves, it took time for there were certain periods when the women were fertile. And those cycling times came season by season.
And for some unexplainable reason lately, the great tress of the Willows were uneasy. He could feel the strain of their uncertainty. Something was amiss. A thought came into play. Obviously the Willows themselves were well protected so whatever was happening was happening on the 'Outside'.
"Husband?"
"And I thought I had done a masterful job of not waking you."
The king turned to see the lounging figure of the queen stirring beneath the bedsheets. She was radiantly beautiful. Long strands of black hair cascading as a ebony waterfall over her shoulders. The jade green eyes sparkled with gold captivated all who beheld them.
"You did not wake me, it was your absence from my side." She purposely let the blanket slip down low enough to entice his eyes away from what was causing him worry.
With a chuckle he set down the cup of tea on a table and made his way back to the bed. Slipping beneath the covers being held out for him, the king kissed his queen lovingly on the forehead.
"You know me too well," his whispered, his lips brushing her ear.
"And that is such a bad thing?," she teased.
There would be little need for further conversation that day.
Re: Wayward Adventures
Oh, the growl that came from her depth could have matched the swamp cats when she noticed that they were all but surrounded. Ivory hilted knives were drawn and held firm even after Brindle attempted to ease her. There was a brief look of surprise when the elder did his jig. Seriously, what the hell was up with him? Raising her chin she watched, the blade of the knives dipped to rest against her lower arm and hilt pointed downward in a ready pose.
They were watched in silence and Garland was given a blank look when he winked her way. Anything but amused by his words and action. In fact, she simply stood there poised to attack if need be and only when they started to approach did a single dagger tilt away from her arm and slipped back into place.
A brief glance shot towards Brindle when he introduced her then she looked back towards the man. Her hand not extended but she did give a brief dip of her head. Then back to Brindle, her chocolate gaze settled. "We need to move."
The earth moaned under her feet as she turned on her heels and started back to camp. Motions swayed her form like a cat stalking towards its prey, ever silent and graceful. If she was withdrawn before Jaxe's death she was plenty more of that now. Indeed she had shelled away, waiting for her death and not wanting to get close to anyone..
As she approached the camp she slowed, attempting to seem as if she were waiting for the others. She knew Brindle would be following but the others..
More allies? And who was this Prince Arlin that was spoke of? Her standings were uncomfortable and she really didn't want to enter the camp and see the body of Jaxe again. It ached to see his peaceful form. And the sight itself drained her. Made her tired. And it reminded her that she had a duty to do..
Slowly her gaze drifted towards the veil, the other knife finally slipped into its place at her belt and skin. Reaching up her hair was unbound and released to her shoulders. Drained and tired she combed back the strains while thinking. Where was the dwarf? They needed to move..Needed to go so that she could rest even if a smudge before the mage returned..
She would need all her strength before the darkness claimed her. Or the enemy.
They were watched in silence and Garland was given a blank look when he winked her way. Anything but amused by his words and action. In fact, she simply stood there poised to attack if need be and only when they started to approach did a single dagger tilt away from her arm and slipped back into place.
A brief glance shot towards Brindle when he introduced her then she looked back towards the man. Her hand not extended but she did give a brief dip of her head. Then back to Brindle, her chocolate gaze settled. "We need to move."
The earth moaned under her feet as she turned on her heels and started back to camp. Motions swayed her form like a cat stalking towards its prey, ever silent and graceful. If she was withdrawn before Jaxe's death she was plenty more of that now. Indeed she had shelled away, waiting for her death and not wanting to get close to anyone..
As she approached the camp she slowed, attempting to seem as if she were waiting for the others. She knew Brindle would be following but the others..
More allies? And who was this Prince Arlin that was spoke of? Her standings were uncomfortable and she really didn't want to enter the camp and see the body of Jaxe again. It ached to see his peaceful form. And the sight itself drained her. Made her tired. And it reminded her that she had a duty to do..
Slowly her gaze drifted towards the veil, the other knife finally slipped into its place at her belt and skin. Reaching up her hair was unbound and released to her shoulders. Drained and tired she combed back the strains while thinking. Where was the dwarf? They needed to move..Needed to go so that she could rest even if a smudge before the mage returned..
She would need all her strength before the darkness claimed her. Or the enemy.
Re: Wayward Adventures
The way upward seemed endless. Perhaps it was because he was tired. There could be many reasons, but as it was, Zachery Roe found the climb to the upper floor of the 'Cathedral' draining. The winding stone steps continued, disappearing into the shadows.
The mage carried with him the weight of the Realm and he wondered if he would be up the task. Finally, having arrived at the upper floor, he stood before a closed door as old and ancient as the tower itself. Closing his eyes he whispered.
Symbols engraved in the stone above the door's archway began to glow and soon the sound of a lock being released could be heard. Slipping inside he closed the door and relocked it. The room was circular with a great many bookshelves and old tomes, many having gathered dust over the centuries.
These had once been housed at the Circle of the Rose.
In the middle of the room was a single wooden study table and chair. On it's chipped surface were parchments, most having already been read, a few still sealed. It was to this table that Zachery made his way and took a seat. A man feeling the loneliness of his duty.
After a moment of introspection, he reached for a open tome and froze. There was a strange tingling sensation on the palm of his hand and then the other. A questioning look followed as he tried to understand what was happening.
His mind went back to the Veil, his entrance into the Jagged Peaks and his confrontation with the Dark Horde. Rubbing his palms together he realized they had been tainted. But hadn't come into contact with anything but....
Zachery Roe stood quickly sending his chair toppling to the floor. Understanding came quickly. He'd been so consumed by his anger that he missed the trap that had been set.
In his weakened state there was no way he could possibly return to the Veil.
There was no way to give warning to the others....
The mage carried with him the weight of the Realm and he wondered if he would be up the task. Finally, having arrived at the upper floor, he stood before a closed door as old and ancient as the tower itself. Closing his eyes he whispered.
Symbols engraved in the stone above the door's archway began to glow and soon the sound of a lock being released could be heard. Slipping inside he closed the door and relocked it. The room was circular with a great many bookshelves and old tomes, many having gathered dust over the centuries.
These had once been housed at the Circle of the Rose.
In the middle of the room was a single wooden study table and chair. On it's chipped surface were parchments, most having already been read, a few still sealed. It was to this table that Zachery made his way and took a seat. A man feeling the loneliness of his duty.
After a moment of introspection, he reached for a open tome and froze. There was a strange tingling sensation on the palm of his hand and then the other. A questioning look followed as he tried to understand what was happening.
His mind went back to the Veil, his entrance into the Jagged Peaks and his confrontation with the Dark Horde. Rubbing his palms together he realized they had been tainted. But hadn't come into contact with anything but....
Zachery Roe stood quickly sending his chair toppling to the floor. Understanding came quickly. He'd been so consumed by his anger that he missed the trap that had been set.
In his weakened state there was no way he could possibly return to the Veil.
There was no way to give warning to the others....
Re: Wayward Adventures
Sirhan looked down on the body of Jaxe. The weapons master finding what he longed for. Peace at last. The dwarf king was on his knees, the grave dug and the body placed. His gruff exterior softened, strong hands caked with dirt as he toiled the soil without a shovel.
Not far away the glow of the Veil pulsed with a life. How long that life would last was anyone's guess and above all things, he knew that they could delay no longer. The burial ground he decided on was a short distance from the camp. Perhaps, when all was said and done, he would return and carry Jaxe's remains back to Black Rock.
There he could be laid to rest in honor.
A glance found the small clearing deserted. He knew it was not for the lack of caring, it was indeed the opposite. The pain was too great even for him. Silently he promised that that pain would be returned to the Dark Horde.
After saying a dwarven prayer Sirhan gathered a handful of dirt and poured it slowly into the grave.
That gesture would be returned by a clawed hand reaching up to grab his throat...
Not far away the glow of the Veil pulsed with a life. How long that life would last was anyone's guess and above all things, he knew that they could delay no longer. The burial ground he decided on was a short distance from the camp. Perhaps, when all was said and done, he would return and carry Jaxe's remains back to Black Rock.
There he could be laid to rest in honor.
A glance found the small clearing deserted. He knew it was not for the lack of caring, it was indeed the opposite. The pain was too great even for him. Silently he promised that that pain would be returned to the Dark Horde.
After saying a dwarven prayer Sirhan gathered a handful of dirt and poured it slowly into the grave.
That gesture would be returned by a clawed hand reaching up to grab his throat...
Re: Wayward Adventures
Beneath the Jagged Peaks in it's connections of endless tunnels a cavernous room was occupied by dark denizens. Shapes of every shape and size moved in a quagmire of heavy breathing, growls and flapping of wings.
In their midst was a throne carved out of the black rock of the mountain. And seated upon it was dark shape that resisted the light from the room's bracketed torches. Only the crimson eyes could be seen glowing like glowing embers in a roaring fire.
It commanded and demanded, and those of the Dark Horde feared it's power. Already it had done something that the one who once had mastery had failed to do.
A knarled hand held out a onyx sphere that glowed and in it's depths was a figure that brought about a dark symphony of glee...
...imprisoned inside was the weapons master, Jaxe Blade.
In their midst was a throne carved out of the black rock of the mountain. And seated upon it was dark shape that resisted the light from the room's bracketed torches. Only the crimson eyes could be seen glowing like glowing embers in a roaring fire.
It commanded and demanded, and those of the Dark Horde feared it's power. Already it had done something that the one who once had mastery had failed to do.
A knarled hand held out a onyx sphere that glowed and in it's depths was a figure that brought about a dark symphony of glee...
...imprisoned inside was the weapons master, Jaxe Blade.
Re: Wayward Adventures
Slowly her head rocked back and her eyes closed. Listening to Brindle and the man, Garland, not far away laughing and carrying on as they approached. For some strange reason, it made her think of Ronin. Someone of the past to return to and share such laughter. Such happiness even if for a brief moment. A comfort and friend..
Guilt suddenly filled her. Would Ronin hate her for not returning? At this point, she knew very well that returning was impossible. More of a frown settled on her lips as her head rocked forward in shame.
It seemed she failed all those she cared for. No matter her choice it was always wrong. At least Ronin was safe. Which only added to her guilt of not being able to protect Jaxe. Figures she'd fall for a guy who wanted to find death and the 'most fun' way possible.
A slow blink settled her eyes. Had she really fallen for him? Throughout the course of everything it sort of had snuck up on her. Was it because of that the pain of his loss was so great? Why now, even after Mira had been saved, she was still here. Still striving to do well by Jaxe? Was he really the reason she was there?
Her brows suddenly started to knit at her trail of thoughts and she hissed. why was he still in her thoughts!?! He was dead!
He was dead and she had a duty. Even if it was a duty he set before her. He actually set his trust in her and she would live up to that trust even if he wasn't there.
A slow sigh escaped her. Stepping forward she finally decided to say goodbye to Jaxe though she in no way was brave enough to say those three little words that Mira spoke so affectionately. Mira was far braver...
With silence and grace, she approached the dwarf, flanking his back. In his position, she could only guess what he was doing.
Burying he who was Legend.
Guilt suddenly filled her. Would Ronin hate her for not returning? At this point, she knew very well that returning was impossible. More of a frown settled on her lips as her head rocked forward in shame.
It seemed she failed all those she cared for. No matter her choice it was always wrong. At least Ronin was safe. Which only added to her guilt of not being able to protect Jaxe. Figures she'd fall for a guy who wanted to find death and the 'most fun' way possible.
A slow blink settled her eyes. Had she really fallen for him? Throughout the course of everything it sort of had snuck up on her. Was it because of that the pain of his loss was so great? Why now, even after Mira had been saved, she was still here. Still striving to do well by Jaxe? Was he really the reason she was there?
Her brows suddenly started to knit at her trail of thoughts and she hissed. why was he still in her thoughts!?! He was dead!
He was dead and she had a duty. Even if it was a duty he set before her. He actually set his trust in her and she would live up to that trust even if he wasn't there.
A slow sigh escaped her. Stepping forward she finally decided to say goodbye to Jaxe though she in no way was brave enough to say those three little words that Mira spoke so affectionately. Mira was far braver...
With silence and grace, she approached the dwarf, flanking his back. In his position, she could only guess what he was doing.
Burying he who was Legend.
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