“Oh,” Sirène mouthed simply. She was surprised by Lothor’s acceptance of her offer – few humans she had ever met liked the delicate flavours and small portions of elven cousine – and surprised further by his wish for her to sit beside him. It seemed an odd mix as she sat on the barstool – an elf clad in an elegant robe of dove-grey suede and silk, and a human armoured in beaten plate.
A long moment of silence followed. She was unsure of what to say. Sirène delicately sipped at her soup, happy for the distraction.
“There’s nothing I can say to comfort you, you know,” she added at last. “I am not old for my kind, but old enough to remember cities that now lie in ruin, whole forests murdered, and faces upon faces of people I knew … who I loved … and who are now dead and forgotten….”
She paused. “Onlye i-estel edain, u-chebin estel lye; We give hope to men, we keep none for ourselves.”
After Cor had cast a healing spell on Weaver, Cor was pleased to see that Weaver was able to stand. "There ya go lad!" Cor smiled, "Great to see you back on your feet." Cor turns towards Amara and Aliya. "This is Weaver. He helped us out several times." After a brief discussion, the group headed back to the manor.
At the Manor
As Cor opened the door and entered the room, he paused and turned to Weaver, Amara and Aliya, "So this is where we are staying for now, and you are more then welcome to stay here too." He then gestured for them to enter. "The dining room is right over there," Cor pointed towards it. You can get yourself something to eat. Once you've all eaten, we can meet the rest of the group." Cor smiled. Despite all the loss over the recent days, it was nice to be finally able to relax, even if they all had to be ready for another attack.
A short time later...
After introducing Amara and Aliya to other members of the party, Cor was seated near Weaver and Ultok. Ultok, true to his word, was listening to Weaver explain what he did on the outside of the wall. Suddenly, part way through the story, Weaver exclaimed,"'The wolf!' He then suited up in his armor and made himself ready. 'If I might have a guide to the whole in the wall? I heard tell the wolf still lives and might be in need of my help,' he then looked to Cor, for he knew none of the other healers. 'He might be in need of your help also and you know this beast, for a short time you traveled with her who calls him by name.' Weaver then began to shift his weight from one foot to the other as a boy would waiting for a spoon of honey on a bit of fresh bread.
Cor replied, "Aye, if he needs help, it is probably best that we go and find him." Cor stood up, and was ready to go and find the wolf.
Cor stood and was ready to go. Weaver smiled and then looked toward Uthlok as if to say 'well?' When Weaver suddenly stopped.
He slapped his head only once when he realized the pain that still accompanied the bumps and scrapes. 'Ouch!' there was a chuckle from some one in the small party that was there. 'For give me my manners. Now that I am full of food, have kept my word with Master Ulthok may I now meet these two.'
He wheeled around and stood in all the courtly manner he could muster, gave a low bow, 'Greetings ladies.' He stepped up and made ready to receive a hand of one of them. Amara offered hers up first with an odd look on her face. Weaver took it and placed the back of it to his forehead, 'It is my pleasure to meet a she elf of the spirit.' He then stepped back and sniffed and looked at Aliya, 'You, good Lady Aliya smell of the arcane. He then sniffs again but I smell muck and mud too. I would be willing to say you walk the world of both the arcane and have some skill with a blade.' He then looks at the two closely, 'You two are closer than most but not as close as some.' He then bowed low again, 'it is a great honor to finally meet the two of you properly.'
OOC: if I took liberties that offend either of you two ladies please let me know, I will edit.
18 HOURS LATER For the party the end of the battle within the Manor’s walls were only a prelude to a battle-filled day. With the destruction of the outer wall, a wave of Black Robed led Orcs’s Goblins, Bugbears and many more creatures of evil rushed forward. Meant to take the fortress by surprise, the interior attacks a series of deadly diversions, they instead found a readied force of arms facing them. If not for the warning of a single unidentified person this attack would have easily breached its way to the inner walls and the heart of the fortress beyond. The next twelve hours was among the fiercest fighting to date as Man, Elf, Dwarf and the party along with various members of the good races fought this dark wave to a halt, then a retreat.
The day had started off as usual, a night of drinking and gambling followed by a day of mostly sleeping and snoring. But suddenly things changed; the alarms began to sound and word of the walls being breached spread quickly. As men rushed to meet the wave of Orcs, Goblins, and other evil beasts a small bristling figure lead the way and charged into the wall of creatures a large dwarven battle axe cutting a deadly swath through the invaders.
Bareel Axehand waded into the fray, his voice loud as he began to sing; his song one of heroism and battle lust. His lyrics, though obviously of dwarven battles, enticed the fortress men to join in (***shouted***), which they soon did to bolster their own courage:
”We sing the song
Of the underhalls
Of warriors strong
When duty calls
Our goblin foes straight down we'll MOW
Shout louder lads
***DEATH FROM BELOW***
We sing the song
Of dwarven king
Of warriors strong
His praises sing
The goblin foe shall suffer WOE
Shout louder lads
***DEATH FROM BELOW***
We sing the song
Of battles won
Of warriors strong
When duty's done
Who'll lift their ales and clammor HO!
Shout louder lads
***DEATH FROM BELOW***
We sing the song
Of fallen kin
Of warriors strong
Who die and grin
In the face of death and as they go
Shout louder lads
***DEATH FROM BELOW***
With Bareel leading the way, the fortress men soon fell in behind him forming a fighting wedge with the ‘spiky’ dwarf at the apex; the foes before them fell like wheat before the scythe. After many hours of fighting and many men having replaced those that fell, the dwarf whose armor bristled with spikes covered in blood and even a few body parts waded out of the carnage to paused to look around and saw no more enemies nearby to kill. He turned to look into the distant and the only enemy he saw was few and far away retreating back to their lines.
As Bareel allowed the battle lust to fade, his muscles became weary; slinging his axe he looked around at the few men still standing with him. He grinned at them as he reached up and picked an Orc arm from the spikes of his shoulder pad; how had that gotten there. He felt a slight weight on his back; one of the men standing with him helped him to pull a whole impaled Kobold from his back. He nodded to the men around him as they all came up to him and thanked him for fighting with them today; to a man they knew that if he hadn’t been there with them they would not have survived.
With promises of rounds of drinks later, Bareel turned and walked back towards his room. He knew that when he got there he would have to clean up a little bit. Though the blood didn’t bother him, he actually liked it, most people frowned upon him tracking it all around their houses and dirtying their floors and furniture. He felt like a drink, but for now he was exhausted and felt like sleeping, drinking would come later.
TWO DAYS LATER
Bareel sat drinking, as was his usual pastime when not engaged in adventure and combat. He detested this sitting around and waiting for things to happen; he had been enraged to find out that there had been a battle at the Manor where the other members of the party had been staying and he had missed it. He had declined to stay at the Commanders House; he much preferred the company of a Tavern with an endless supply of ale to a stuffy household with servants and such.
After the battle, he had checked in with Cor, the leader of the group, and let him know that he was still willing to go with them if they needed him. Of course as long as there was battle to be done; he didn’t want any more of this sitting around waiting. Bareel wasn’t sure why he threw in with this bunch, maybe it was the feeling he had that they had a knack for finding trouble and he might be of use to them when they did.
For now he was at a Tavern not far from the Commander’s Manor where the group resided; he drank during the evenings, gambling a little when he had the coin and the luck, and during the days mostly he slept. He was waiting for another battle to break out, or for Cor to summon him that they might be headed out on another mission. Killing was what he did, and did well; he wouldn’t pass up an opportunity for more when it came.
(OOC: A little intro post from me. Though Bareel is known to the group, he hasn’t been around it seems since the group came to town. So kind of post to cover where he was and what he has been up to during the last encounter. No big surprises really huh? Thank you all for the welcome to the game, I am a little rusty but think I can contribute to the adventure, especially when the fightin’ starts. )
Alyia followed after Cor as they were lead across the camp, she still cursed under her breath at the head cleric. she had gotten an answer that was enough to suffice her in that precautions were being taken but it chaffed Alyia the way the cleric had stated it like common knowledge. "condescending @#*[email protected]$&" she muttered to herself an glowered at nothing in particular, but her looks softened as she saw the page boy she had used to relay messages with the day before. Remembering a large cask of ale she had won over a bar bet, sending a page to get it from her tent. she walked back to the group and grinned as two burly pages struggled to haul the large keg to the manor house. she'd have to play drinking games more often with the men of the 4th division, it was quite lucrative. she reminded herself to offer both the pages a large flagon of the drink as thanks for their toil.
Cor had quickly showed them around the little manor house and offered them food before introducing them to the rest of the party. Alyia smirked as her stomach rumbled at the smell of stew and the faint whiff of mushroom soup. Slinking into the kitchen she grabbed a bowl of stew and quickly ate before moving into the commons room for introductions. the pages had left the keg in the kitchen so she tapped it and quickly filled a tankard for each of the lads then proceeded to down a tankard herself, the soft honey and barley beer was of good quality. wiping her mouth as Amara both chided her on her lack of manners. Alyia shrugged and stuck her tongue out childishly at her half-sister.
the others were seated and conversing the half elf seated between Cor and Ulthok gestured exuberantly before springing up and wheeling around and stood giving a low bow.
"'Greetings ladies." He stepped up and made ready to receive a hand of one of them.
Amara offered hers up first with an odd look on her face. Weaver took it and placed the back of it to his forehead, 'It is my pleasure to meet a she elf of the spirit.'
He then stepped back and sniffed and looked at Alyia, 'You, good Lady Alyia smell of the arcane. He then sniffs again but I smell muck and mud too. I would be willing to say you walk the world of both the arcane and have some skill with a blade.'
Alyia smirked at the half elf . " a nose like that could get a man in trouble. I wouldn't sniff to close just yet, ya might damage something. I've not had a good bath for a day before the attack and have spent the last day at hard labor shoring up defenses. I'd hate to imagine that I’d smell much better up close then a bugbear's does."
He then looks at the two closely, 'You two are closer than most but not as close as some.' He then bowed low again, 'it is a great honor to finally meet the two of you properly.'
Alyia grinned and winked at the half elf. " I’m honored to make your acquaintance as well weaver." Alyia slid past weaver motioning to core, Ulthok and the rest that the keg in the kitchen was tapped a free for all.
she quickly found a chair setting aside her sword belt she made herself comfortable, pulling a ball of yarn and needles from her cloak pocket she began to knit. Amara teased her about her "addictive" habit but Alyia laughed it off. though in truth she rarely had time lately and she found that anytime she could sit long enough for a round or two, seemed almost meditative and relaxing. but mostly kept her from draining the keg herself.
(OOC: feel free to ask Alyia questions ect for conversation and i'll reply in the next post ect.)
Amara followed Cor across camp, hearing her sister curse towards the head cleric and shook her head. Her eyes narrowed slightly when her sister ordered two pages away and sighs softly knowing exactly what her half-sister was after.
Looking around the manor house she glanced at the members and smiled sheepishly as her stomach mimicked Alyia’s. Being slower than her sister she got herself a bowl of stew and ate quickly before moving after the half-elf. She sighed chiding her softly about her manners, or lack of. Shaking her head at Alyia’s childish antics before she quickly heard a new voice. Greetings ladies. Amara gave him an odd glance before offering her hand to the half elf. ”It’s my pleasure to meet a she elf of the spirit.”
Amara smiled softly, “The pleasure is all mine I assure you.” She looked around her for a moment taking in all she could, the conversation of her half-sister drifting to her ears, ”A nose like that could get a man in trouble. I wouldn’t sniff too close just yet, yah might damage something. I’ve got had a good..” She quickly turned to her sister just as Alyia was finishing her sentence,
“Now sister, be nice to the new people, we don’t want to scare them off too quickly yes?”
Her eye twitch as Alyia brought out yarn and needles from her pocket, “Again with that Alyia? Really? You don’t do that enough already?” Her tone teasing and was pleased when Alyia simply laughed off the jibe.
Sitting next to her sister Amara stared at her hands in quiet thought.
Weaver watches as the two ladies take their seats and fall still. He is deeply contemplating what the two ladies said to him. Uthlok catches this sudden stillness in Weaver and simply pokes Cor and points to Weaver as if to say, 'watch.'
Weave's head moves downward and to the left as his eyes look at something that is not there. He whispers, 'How would I know if she mocks me?... Yes I know I smell like them now.' Weaver then looks up and motions over toward the Lady Alyia and continues, 'well all but that one, she smells the less offensive of us all.' Weaver looks up at Cor, 'The keg! Uthlok, Cor as the good Lady Alyia has offered. Do any need more filler?' he grabs his own stein and heads to the Kitchen. 'Uthlok, do you recall the pipe weed from the mountain feast we had? I wonder if you have any more.'
Just as Weaver reaches the door he turns. Cor and Uthlok are still holding their mugs. 'This is why I make a better bard then a servant.' Quickly retrieving the mugs he turns to the ladies, 'Speaking of being a bard, do you two like music? You see I have several small wooden flutes,' Weaver fumbles with the three mugs as he reaches for several leather pieces around his neck.
Cor clears his throat. Weaver stops and looks at the dwarf. He is pointing to the mugs. 'Oh! Yes.' Weaver takes the two from the ladies, if they need refilling.
As he walks by the table of the Lady Sirene and Sir Lothor he begins to reach for their mugs when eyes from the Lady Sirene gave him a most clear message, 'NOT JUST YET!'
Weaver stumbles back a bit and a snicker is heard from the other side if the room. He smiles back a sorry and heads toward the kitchen, 'You see it is these walls. I have not had enough of...' Weaver's sound fades as he moves to the kitchen.
Compared to the fever rush of battle this ‘lull’ was almost a vacation of sorts. With no attacks against the two remaining walls, other then the normal bombardment of rocks and stones, it almost seemed the enemy before Craggian Core was waiting for something. But what?
As the height of the last two walls were increased and strengthen by numerous castings of Walls of Stone and Iron. The forces in defense, all from many different lands, readied themselves by training side by side. In much the same way did party continue to seek a closer bond between themselves and the newest members. They talked, perhaps flirted, relaxed and even trained to some degree as the days wore on. A short visit of Barreel Axehand to the Manor gave clear notice that he was ready to join the party if needed. The Dwarf Berserker obviously in need of a fight other then that gained in a bar.
As more days began to pass a dark, sky moved over the battlefield below and it began to rain. Normally rain, even out of season, was nothing to fear but this rain seemed different.
Somehow, the rain drops heavy, the mist in the mornings clingy, the rain somehow just wrong. The rain for the next 4 days almost non-stop water everywhere and in everything. A lake of puddles and pools of water causing more then one unsuspecting person to take a false step to drown beneath their false depths. In each such death there were no witnesses to tell what had truly happened and fear began to run as the rumors mounted. The water of the rain alive, the water of the rains cursed. The water of the rain a spell of the Black Robes meant to slowly poison and kill.
Then after a week, the rain stopped and the sun was seen once more and the people were happy as the water left from the rains began to dry up. However many of those of the upper tier of command assigned to defend and hold Craggian Core could only wonder if the sun and the clouds of white so thick hid the coming of a much bigger, much more evil storm.
(DM OOC: Ok my post for this Sunday is up good posting and interacting so far peoples so please keep it up. Ok my last post before my 3-week break will be on this coming Sunday the 3rd. However even though I will not be posting till Sunday the 23rd of June please consider Trilogy as a free form game and continue to post among yourselves.
On another serious matter, I just realized tonight it has been exactly 1 month since Brianna’s has posted anything on the Inn. Her last post on the Inn was her Trilogy combat post on April 28th of last month. I will try to contact her and see if she is ok as this is very unlike her. If any of you see her on the Inn let me know right away. Thanks.)
Posted on 2013-05-27 at 04:47:00.
Edited on 2013-05-27 at 04:50:22 by TannTalas
Bareel banged the empty mug down on the table sending other empty mugs crashing to the floor; patrons in the tavern looked up briefly but seeing the source of the ruckus they went back to their own drinking. The dwarf had been in a foul mood lately, this confounded rain had been going on or a week now and it seemed the enemy wasn’t about to launch an attack during this deluge. He was bored, and that was bad. He enjoyed drinking but drinking was best done after a hard battle with many fallen enemies behind him.
When bored he had a short temper, more so than usual, and had gotten into a few altercations with local troops. He might tussle with the locals, but it was strictly non-weapon and no serious injuries; after all he would fight besides these men later. It was more of a friendly competition between warriors; something to pass the time until the next battle came along.
When the rain finally stopped, Bareel ventured outside again; the tavern was glad as their supply of ale was running very low. The dwarf had avoided the rain after the first couple of days, not only had the water been too deep for him but the rain washed away all the blood and grime that inhabited his hair and beard. He hadn’t been this clean in far too long; he almost felt naked without his trademark fearsome presence.
Donning his armor, for the first time in a week, Bareel had left the Tavern and ventured to the walls which had been repaired via magic. There he went up on some of the battlements and gazed out over the field towards where the enemy waited. He didn’t see any creatures advancing yet; from the look of the muddy fields he doubted many would be coming anytime soon. He gripped his battle axe tightly, clenching his fists and gritting his teeth at the prospect of more time sitting around ‘waiting’. He longed for some action; his blood boiled for the desire to kill. He didn’t know how much longer he could sit and do nothing.
(OOC: In case anyone wishes to interact with Bareel, he is now out at the wall. )
Cor stood ready to leave as Weaver introduced himself to Alyia and Amara. Cor cleared his throat, trying to tactfully remind Weaver about manners. Weaver, getting the message, asked if everyone wanted their cups filled up. Cor shook his head, as his cup was still fairly full, and he watched Weaver dart out of the room. Cor took another drink form his mug, as Weaver backed back into the room slowly with some snickers accompanying him. Apparently, Weaver was still not too used to being in an urban area. Cor chuckled quietly again, then he took another drink from his mug. It was nice to have Weaver back, especially after recent events.
(OOC: Sorry Archangel, I will try to get Cor to the walls later!)
The mage had taken the time to rest a bit and to visit the kitchen. Entering the kitchen the smells of baking filled the room as setting out cool were apple pies, apple tarts and apple dumpling. The cooks had thought the Fairy Dragon had been a cute pet, but after the Bhut attack they saw how she took Ulthok request to protect them seriously. That long day of battles outside she had kept appearing and vanishing as if on guard, checking on their well being. They could sense there was more to this creature than butterfly wings and they wanted to repay the little protector.
There on the sideboard, asleep in an empty pie pan his companion lay while the staff watched over her. Nodding to the staff Ulthok started to gathered a plate of food for himself. The head cook took his plate and led him to the dinning table. “Master Ulthok….. you will need not lift a plate while you stay here. You and your friends risked your lives here to help us and you left us in marvelous hands …or claws. Miss Peri shall have her pies every day, thank you Master Ulthok.” The Halfling knew that hospitality was great gift from staff and it would rude to not acknowledge the gesture. The Mage bowed deeply to the staff, “ It is our honor to serve those that serve, thank you for caring for us.” From there the evening flowed with food and drink.
The mood had been quiet as the party dined. Sirene and Lothor shared a bit time and Cor introduced the new members to the party. The new mage offered up keg of ale and invited the group to enjoy. Weaver had been away from group and seemed to be still a bit ill at ease. But the bard was a bard so he pressed on. ”The keg! Uthlok, Cor as the good Lady Alyia has offered. Do any need more filler? Uthlok, do you recall the pipe weed from the mountain feast we had? I wonder if you have any more.' Just as Weaver reaches the door he turns. Cor and Uthlok are still holding their mugs. 'This is why I make a better bard then a servant.' retrieving the mugs he turns to the ladies, 'Speaking of being a bard, do you two like music? You see I have several small wooden flutes,' weaver fumbled with the mug and flutes and such.
Watching the poor fellow Ulthok had to chuckle, “Oh Master Bard if you can just get those mugs filled you will indeed be rewarded the mellow smoke you desire…. I happen to have a bit here with me and seeing you have rejoined us I’ll be sure you have a pouch full of your own.”
Posted on 2013-05-30 at 02:16:55.
Edited on 2013-05-30 at 16:27:32 by Odyson
Brianna Not Dragon Mistress Karma: 105/32 2282 Posts
TImmediately after the fight was over rayne pspped up from the ground. "well done, Valeene, great shots, I could have shot that Bhut no better than that. Rayne complemented the wand waving Valene. Now is everyone Okay?"
Rayne heard Cor call out. "Rayne is here and fine and so is Valene, I was headed up to check on Althena when these monster appeared." I will go check up on here and report back to you Cor? Where will we gather?" rayne races to Althenaps room to check on her.
Coming back down she looked for Cor and the rest of their company. "All right those who still need healing front and center," she said as she walked into the room, She paused as she saw a new face. With heavy harmor gleaming, tabard and holy symbol., she was a paladin or knight or both.
rayne moved over quickly to the new woman and extends her hand, "Greetings I am Rayen Fireheat. It was lucky for us you dropped in at am opportune moleast. Are you bringin a message or...? Tayne let the last words hang unginished hoping she would gain what information she could.
18 hours later.
Rayne came and went healing and heloing when her heals had run out. She meditated in the dargen each night but had to use incences and oils to help mask the smell of smoke and the acid other smeels of the overvrowded city that had just been attacks. Aeron proved useful though she did not work him overly much. ending him off to hunt though she figured pickings were slim, so she made sure he got plenty of meat scraps to supplement his diet. Rayne made sure to met with teh group in the morning for meals and in the evening.
The first morning agter the fight she spoke quiely but clearly enough to be heard. "You know we were caught off guard. We cannot afford to let that happen again. But for the timely arriveal of Lady Jessica and some heoric eggorts by all it might have gone badly. Any suggestions on how to better be on guard?"
Aliya enjoyed the frivolities of the even. Clapping, cheering and jeering along with the group trying no to tease weaver to much though the scent of the pipe weed made her a bit loose tongued though not as much as the ale had. slipping deep into her cups as the night went on, more then a little tipsy as she fell asleep that night.
the next couple of days she had the rest of her tent and gear brought to the manor house. trying not to make a nuisance of herself but needing to take stock of her spells and materials she moused herself into a far corner of the commons area and began to unpack bags, boxes, tomes, scrolls, shards, crystals, powders, and other trappings and dealings of the mage class. gingerly she placed a large fist shaped object down beside her knee, careful to keep it covered though the light from within seeped through the folded covering and emitted a soft glow even through the containing bag. it had been a most prized possession, an heirloom given to her by her grandfather. a gem that had continuous light cast upon it when her grandfather had first been an adventurer by his wizard master. the stone had at one point been as big as a large mans fist, but over time the spell had slowly consumed it leaving her with an orbed stone one could easily hold in ones palm yet larger then most stones. As she counted and repacked items organizing and repacking her backpack a large gust of wind rolled into the manor house carrying on it the scent of rain, making Alyia sigh.
day three of the rain Alyia sighed again this time in frustration. Curled up in a chair with a good sized tome cradled in her lap she tried to memorize a level three lightning spell the drone of the rain making her irritable. shutting the book she pull on a heavy wool cloak and stocked out into the rain, muttering to herself about needing a walk or exercise.
Alyia stalked along the encampment's streets, muddy rutty tracts of space between tents. She was quite grateful for the warmth and comfort of the manor house. finding herself at a makeshift training field beneath a recently repaired section of wall. she greeted the men sparring, a little rain never stopped soldiers, it only added a break in the monotony of routine. though the rumors of demon puddles thought the camp and cursed rain did chafe on her slightly.
setting her cloak aside to spar wooden practice swords with an older soldier, she rolled her shoulders and stretched as they chatted going through well practiced motions for each. Alyia grinned and feigned a swipe for his head with the wooden sword and made to kicked his feet from benith him, slipping in the mud she landed square on her back in the mud with a loud squishing thud. the old soldier roared with laughter as Alyia got up wringing the mud from her hair and bottom. she couldn't help but laugh with the rest of the men as most were covered in mud as well. the ranks broke an they began a small round robin tournament with a small pot of coin for the winner to buy everyone a round with afterwards.
that evening Aliya stumbled into the manor house still caked in now half dried mud and grinning like a child.
Posted on 2013-06-01 at 07:34:39.
Edited on 2013-06-01 at 07:37:02 by Astrid
Rest and recovery, working out the bumps and bruises
Weaver with a bit of ale in him and a pipe or two he plays his lute and founds the evening to be very delightful, as the evening moves on into night he fall into a place of solitude. With a steady flow of ale he goes back to a time of love lost and wondering the lands in search of things that could not be found. He found himself several times reaching for something on his back that was not there anymore. He lookes for scars long ago healed that were no longer there.
‘Am I who I was?’ he spoke. He knew there was a room for him somewhere in these walls of stone but he made a small place by the fire and drifted off to sleep.
The next day he calls for his things to be brought to him. He places them on the table and looks at them. It was them he noticed the Lady Alyia taking stock of her things and thought it was a good idea. He dumps his own things out and begins to place things is some sort of order. Anyone taking stock of Weaver’s things would thing, ‘What a load of rubbish.’ But the tattered change of clothing, bits of strings and rope, his bedding, some herbs and spices from place long ago traveled. To him it was his world, his life. He bundles up his things and packs his pack once more, ‘There ready to go if I am needed.’ He smiles.
The rest of that day he sits by a window and watches the rain. He longed to be out side these walls but knows that would be wrong. If he is needed he will be here.
The next few days are spent in sword practice, study, and pondering the lessons of his last few months out on the road. His evenings are spent in the main room of the manor playing songs, filling tankards, and being as helpful or as less of a bother to the staff as possible. From time to time he can be heard talking to himself in a manner that would presume he was talking to someone else. He was even seen to be praying from time to time.
OOC: Open to some role-playing if any in the party wish to ask a question or two or perhaps strike up a conversation.
Posted on 2013-06-01 at 20:14:53.
Brianna Not Dragon Mistress Karma: 105/32 2282 Posts
When Rayne walked into the room after being told Cor returned with new companions she was happy to see andfamiliar face of Weaver.
"Weaver, it is good to see you." Tayne said enthusiastically
Raynehe moved across the room with long strides and sat near him as he wove his tale of his time since his departure from the group. When He mentioned the Aolg. rayne responded.
"I will go with you to find your wolf. Did you summon him or was he a chance incounter?" Rayne felt that the actions of this wolf were more those of a camapnion.
"Well met, Lady Alyia and Lady Amara, welcome indeed. I am Rayne Fireheartt, Ranger and Clerid of Kith Jora.
Assessing what she ofserved of the two new comers, she was quite sure that these additions to their group would bee good ones. weaver was a known factor who had proven himself again and agiain.
Posted on 2013-06-02 at 23:10:16.
Edited on 2013-06-10 at 05:40:29 by Brianna